Captured in Time - MLB Félinette Fanfiction [DISCONTINUED]

Drowning in Puddles

     -In an event that took place this afternoon at l'Histoire, famous storyteller and photographer A. Agreste's real identity was revealed to be Félix Graham de Vanily. What's more shocking is that he is the cousin of none other than the artist name he used of the deceased...-

Marinette chewed on her thumb. She didn't notice the crowd that was still around them until Félix Graham de Vanily left the cafe, and she knew that she messed up, not only herself but also the guy.

     -The unconventional methods that the photographer used which labelled him as a 'stalker', by his own model Marinette Dupain-Cheng, has also been revealed. Marinette is a designer originally from Paris who worked closely with...-

She paced the room. Kicked an empty noodle cup that was on her floor. Glared at her television as it kept on droning, wanting for it to shut up but also kind of wanting to hear what's next. Surely there wasn't anything she could've done to prevent this, right? She was being human, getting angry, losing herself, and being normal right? Félix Graham de Vanily deserved all of that, right?

     -This scandal, since its occurrence, has been all over the local newspapers and as word spread, the photographer's exhibit Through The Eyes of A Lover has officially sold out and is currently under discussion for an extension as all of London wishes to see for themselves what had caused such an uproar in the photography industry...-

See? It's giving him all that he could ever want. Fame. Money. More money. More fame. It's okay, Marinette thought, she did nothing wrong.

     -The only question left to answer now is who really is Félix Graham de Vanily and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and what, more like, whose story are they trying to tell?-

Marinette groaned and she collapsed on the floor with a heavy sigh.

"FUCK YOU, FÉLIX GRAHAM DE VANILY." She exhaled, violently thrashing against her floor.

Her fist hits the foot of her center table and she yelped, painful stars shooting from her knuckles down her arms. Tears. Frustration. Anger and pain and regret washed her altogether and she turned over onto her stomach, yelling her heart out.

"I HATE. YOU. SO MUCH." Punched the floor.

"YOU'RE SO PRESUMPTUOUS." Punched the floor 2x. It made her fist hurt more. She whined.

"WHAT DOES THE WORLD HAVE AGAINST MEEEEE?!?!?!?!" More punches occurred until the blunette was nothing but a tired mess whose tears puddled the floor, and she knew none of it solved her problems, but it felt nice anyway.

Black.

"Chat?" She called.

Her voice returned to her in an echo, deeper, darker, distorted. It sounded like the static in a disconnected channel, like the whistle of the wind in an abandoned building. It sent shivers down her spine.

She took a step.

The sound of water rippling reverberated in the dark, growing louder and louder as if there was a big wave quickly approaching, ready to consume her whole.

Her breath caught.

She called his name again. The waves were so much closer.

Then she ran.

She ran and ran, but no matter the steps she took, no matter the breaths that were stolen from her in the desperate measure she took for survival, the waves were now roaring in her ears and each step that she took became more and more laborious until

Water.

Thick, dark, and murky water engulfed her.

She can't breathe.

She tried to gasp for air but the water filled her lungs and it seared her throat – it burned her body in a way that had her keening, thrashing about, her hands clawing at her throat.

"Oh, princess~"

She stopped.

She opened her eyes to see ice-blue eyes glaring at her.

The hands on her throat constricted. She wasn't choking herself.

White claws held her throat tightly, making nicks on her skin until she bled.

The tears escaped from her eyes, a strangled cry from her throat.

"Why do you run from me, my lady?"

Bubbles were all that left her mouth as she so desperately tried to pull free from the white shackles that kept her from freedom, and for a second it flashed black before it was white all over again.

"I'm- I'm not.."

"But you are," he hissed and she shook her head, and she felt lightheaded, everything becoming a blurry haze.

The ice-blue eyes drew closer from nothingness, and she began to make out the white mask that covered his face. The white hair, white mane that his hair was, the white belt, costume, boots. He flashed black again, and Marinette closed her eyes.

"Please stop." She breathed out.

"Stop lying to yourself, Marinette."

"I'm not! F-Félix did!"

"You killed me.

"Félix has nothing to do with all of this."

"SHUT UP!!!!" Marinette began to thrash about, trying to pry the clawing hands away from her throat as she began to feel her skin tear apart, as she tried to curl in on herself to protect herself from this violence.

"M'lady. It's time we accept the truth.

"You.

"Killed.

"Me."

Marinette woke up in a cold sweat, gaze meeting the wooden grains of her floorboard. It seemed to form a cat. She was breathing heavily. She didn't know why, but she couldn't bear to look at the cat so she turned over to her back.

Her phone chimed.

She felt disoriented, her normally grey ceiling not looking like a grey ceiling, the night had set, the room had grown dark. That must be why her grey ceiling was black.

Her phone chimed again.

She wanted to ignore it. It could be Félix. She didn't want to talk to Félix. Didn't want to be reminded of whatever that unsettling feeling was that she got from her dreams. Didn't want the-

The phone rang loudly.

She groaned.

Sitting up, Marinette took the phone and in a fit aggressively tapped the answer button and shouted, "Didn't I already tell you to leave??? I don't want anything to do with you anymore!!!"

Silence. She blinked and looked at the caller ID. Her heart dropped.

ABC Dude.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"