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English
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Published:
2020-08-22
Completed:
2023-03-09
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183,314
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42/42
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Paris Monsieur in Gotham

Summary:

Dahlia Wayne never believed in love at first sight.
Upon a chance encounter with a Parisian boy with bluebell eyes and his fair share of secrets however, she can’t help but second guess her previous assumptions on love.
[Genderbend Daminette/Maribat]
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[DISCONTINUED]

Notes:

I noticed that despite the numerous daminette/maribat fanfics, there aren’t many genderbend versions of those. I have a soft spot for genderbend characters, & I think it would be interesting to see how their dynamic would work out if that was the case which brings us here.
This is my first time writing a daminette/maribat +salt fanfic so I hope I don’t disappoint. I also hope I manage to keep a smooth flow of the story & the lore of both fandoms. Sorry if certain characters are OOC, I’ll try my best.
Many thanks to Silent_Radioactivity for inspiring me to write this. Sorry if I'm plagarizing you and I hope I'm not offending you in any way.
Also, pls note that not all the characters are genderbent. Only a few are as stated below.
Genderbent characters:
Marinette- Marcel/ Red Beetle
Chloe- Chris
Adrien- Adrianne/ Chat Noire
Damian- Dahlia

Everyone else remains the same. In this version, Lila is basically ‘besties’/'like sisters' with Adrianne. Their ‘friendship’ however is even worse/toxic than Chloe’s with Sabrina’s.
Lila harasses Marcel like she does with canon!Adrien but she isn’t above painting him as a bad guy while turning on the innocent crocodile tears either. Like in many other salt fics, Lila has also distanced Marcel with his class as she threatened him that if he didn’t become her boyfriend and bow down to her rule, she would make sure he has no friends at all.

Chapter 1: The (Not) Mugged Paris Boy

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Gotham City.

Home to some of the most dangerous criminals and villains to grace the planet; rough turf of the infamous Bat Family, the dark guardians of the the very city where crime beats like a consistent heart, especially when night creeps over the city, coiling its dark tendrils to suffocate the unfortunate and aid the criminals who seek to exploit.

It was also the city where one Marcel Dupain-Cheng was currently lost in.

Marcel sighed aggrievedly, glaring at his phone as though doing so would somehow make it turn back on and show him the goddamn GPS map so he could find some way to backtrack to the hotel.

His phone screen resolutely stayed blank.

Luck was not on his side…….then again, it hasn’t been for quite a while now.

He stuffed his hands into his pocket, eyes closing in frustration. He wasn’t surprised at this point but still, even now, he couldn’t stop the swell of hurtful disappointment at it all.

Three years.

Three years since he’s been chosen to wield the Ladybug Miraculous.

Three years since he’s taken up the mantle of Red Beetle.

Three years since Hawkmoth showed up and terrorized Paris, leaving its citizens and their emotional/psychological states hostage.

Three years since Lila showed up and sunk her claws into his class, trapping them in her web of lies.

Three years since she gave him the ultimatum of bowing down to her rule and becoming her ‘significant other’ (pfft, as if) or becoming another obstacle in her way.

Three years since…..she made due on her threat and made sure he’s lost his friends.

He shook his head to dispel that last thought.

No, that wasn’t true. He did have friends. Not many but genuine friends who cared; who truly stuck by him when things got rough, people he could trust to watch his back.

He felt his mouth quirk upwards a bit. But it quickly fell when he realized said friends were probably worried sick about him right now.

He felt Tikki give him a comforting pat from the inner pocket of his jacket. He was grateful he wasn’t truly alone out here at least.

Another gust of wind blew by, harshly reminding him just how chilly Gotham was at night. It didn’t help that his miraculous has made him more susceptible to cold.

Zipping up his maroon leather jacket (darn it, he knew he should’ve worn a hoodie instead) he glanced left and right, eyeing dark alleys where he could potentially transform……

And at the same time potentially get mugged or killed in.

Come on, this was Gotham for crying out loud! Sure, Paris wasn’t a safe haven either but still, at least it was a turf he was knew like the back of his hand.

…….merde, he just jinxed it.

This was proven when three men came out of a nearby alleyway. Judging by their shabby appearances and the way they carried themselves, they practically screamed danger.

“Hey little boy, you lost?” one of them asked gruffly.

Marcel didn’t answer but began to warily back away, keeping his eyes on them in case they made a move but using his peripheral to analyze possible escape routes.

First day here and he’s already getting mugged. Wow.

“We can help you get back home…for a small fee.” Another holding a pipe said, sticking out a hand.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing.

This caused him to scowl.

“You deaf or somethin? Hand over yer wallet brat or you’re dead.” The third one snapped, taking out a pocket knife.

Instantly, Marcel tensed and fell into a fighting stance. Instincts honed and reflexes sharpened from his experience as Red Beetle surfaced, instinctively taking lead.

Welp, at least he’ll have something to vent some of his frustrations out on.

The man with the pocket knife charged forward first, lunging forward to stab him.

Marcel parried his wrist, knocking the knife away and slammed a palm fist strike to his exposed jaw, swiftly followed by a knife-hand strike to the windpipe.

The one wielding the pipe came next. He raised his pipe up and brought it down but Marcel caught his wrist. Twisting around, he tossed the guy over his shoulder.

The third one frantically eyed his two downed companions. Crap, they underestimated the kid.

Marcel’s eyes widened when he saw the third one whip a small revolver out, aiming it straight at him. The guy was evidently shaken up but that could backfire on him. Panic can make someone do very stupid decisions.

“Do-don’t move! Drop your wallet and back away! I’m warning you!” the third guy said.

Marcel put his hands up and slowly backed away.

“Ok…ok, I won’t hurt you. Put the gun down.” He tried to reason.

“Shut up!” he snapped.

“You should take your own advice.”

Another voice. Feminine but cold and sharp as a metal blade.

Marcel’s head shot up and the third mugger whipped his head around in time for a red projectile to hit him smack in the face, knocking him down.

A figure seemingly materialized out of the shadows and stood there, the nearby street lamps allowing Marcel to make out their features.

His eyes widened when he realized who it was.

A red armored vest with a ‘R’ emblazoned over the heart, black leggings and green steel reinforced combat boots with matching gloves and a sharp angular domino mask, black hooded cape with a yellow interior.

Robin.

Member of the Bat Family, one of the protectors/heroes/vigilantes of Gotham.

Said hero didn’t waste time tying the three muggers up.

“Thanks.” Marcel said, relaxing now that the danger had passed.

Robin glanced up at him.

“For saving me, I mean.” He gestured to the one who pointed the revolver at him. “He could’ve hurt me.”

“I think you’ve hurt them even worse. Not that that’s a bad thing.” She told him. Her voice reminded him of Kagami; it was collected like a river but carried an air of intense grace that effortlessly caught one's attention.

“Yeah well, still. You saved my life, thank you.” He told her again sincerely.

“No thanks needed. Even without my intervention, you fared decently on your own. ” She said.

Marcel couldn’t help but blush at the praise (he was getting praise personally from one of Gotham’s heroes!).

“…..judging by your accent, you’re not from around here.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I’m from Paris. Here on a class trip but I got separated from my class and my phone’s dead so I’m lost. Trying to find my way back to the hotel.” He replied.

Her brows furrowed, if the crinkling of her domino mask was anything to go by.

“Your teacher should’ve done a headcount. To lose a student in Gotham of all places is very irresponsible.” She criticized. “Where are you staying?”

“The Bella Donna Hotel.” He replied.

She nodded. “That’s not far from here, I can escort you there.”

“You’d escort me? I feel safer already.” He said and it’s true, he did. He couldn’t but feel more reassured to be in a place with someone as capable as her watching his back.

Nodding, she offered him her hand.

“Come on, we shouldn’t waste time further, Monsieur…..?” she asked.

“Marcel. Marcel Dupain-Cheng. Please, just call me Marcel.” He replied.

She nodded. “Let’s be on our way then, Marcel.”

Before he could reply, he squeaked in surprise when she wrapped an arm around his waist and shot her grappling hook.

Marcel yelped once more when the ground disappeared from under his feet and he found himself soaring through the air, swinging with Robin.

At this angle, he couldn’t help but admire the architecture of Gotham City. He felt a bit of excitement course through him at the prospect of exploring this new terrain himself.

“Having fun?” Robin asked, her lip quirked up ever so slightly in amusement.

“I can see why you guys enjoy this.” Marcel beamed.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the hotel. Not wanting anymore unnecessary attention, she dropped him off behind it.

“Thanks for the lift.” Marcel said.

“Again, no thanks needed. It’s nice to swing with someone who doesn’t scream bloody murder like a crazed cat.” Robin replied, recounting the times she had to do as such with the more….hysterical citizens.

“But still, it’s been an honor to meet you in person. You have my gratitude. Stay safe.” He said before turning around and jogging off.

When he glanced back, she was gone.

…….man, he wished he could pull off the disappearing act as easily as her.

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

Marcel blinked in surprise when he saw the class gathered in the lobby. Did they….wait here for him? Were they actually worried?

“Marcel!” Mme. Bustier cried out, hurrying over to fuss over him. “Where were you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mme. Bustier.” He lied. No need to mention the mugging incident and his encounter with Robin.

“Sorry for worrying you. I didn’t mean to get separated.” He added.

She released a breath of relief. “It’s alright, Marcel. You’re here and you’re fine now, that’s all that matters.”

‘Right, I matter so very much to you.’ He couldn’t help but think sarcastically, recalling the numerous times Mme. Bustier hadn’t taken his absence into account on school trips.

Suddenly a blonde blur tackled him.

“You nitwit! We were worried sick!” Chris hissed, gripping his shoulders and shaking him a bit. “Do you want me to look like a grandpa already?!”

Marcel laughed at his best friend’s dramatics, knowing he was worried deep down.

“Sorry, Chris.” He said.

The blonde huffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

“You better be.” He huffed. But his lip quirked up, betraying his haughtiness.

“I had to stop him from transforming to track you down. He really was worried for you.” Sabrina whispered to Marcel. “And so was I. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Marcel smiled at her.

If you had told him three years ago that he would call Chris (his past tormentor on a daily basis) and Sabrina his closest confidants, he would’ve claimed it was more likely for Hawkmoth to become a good guy.

But time proved him wrong. Chris never bowed down to Lila and from the start, he knew she lied as easily as she breathed. Naturally, Sabrina (who was admittedly the smarter of the two) also saw through Lila’s tall tales.

It didn’t take long for their common ire towards the Italian liar to bring them closer together.

Initially, Marcel had been justifiably wary but overtime, Chris proved that he genuinely wanted to be a better person and more importantly, a better friend.

He was still haughty, sarcastic, and bluntly stuck-up but has taken to showing his kinder side, especially around Marcel and the few friends they have.

He no longer treated Sabrina like a henchgirl and finally had a long heart-to-heart with her; apologizing how he took their ‘friendship’ for granted and oftentimes, bossing her around like a maid rather than a friend. He even told her that if she wanted to cut ties with him, he was fine with that. Sabrina declined and told him that she still wanted to be his friend and if possible, a better friend for both of them.

(Chris would rather eat his own hair gel than admit it but he had ugly cried a lot after that.)

He also began to hang out with Marcel more often. Eventually, it became routine for Chris to go to Marcel’s family’s bakery or for Marcel to come over to his father’s hotel to hang out. Like Sabrina, they both had a long talk where Chris apologized for being a downright dickhead to Marcel for years. The latter accepted it and both were proud to say they’ve moved on to become something better.

“Hellooooooo? Earth to Marcel? Snap outta it!” Marcel blinked, snapping out of his stupor when someone snapped their fingers in front of him. He realized it was Alix, another one of the few people in this class he can call a friend.

The skater girl may not be the most academically bright but she was far from air-headed. Her street smarts and common sense didn't make it hard for her to connect the dots after the melodrama in Lila lies never ceased.

“Sorry, zoned out a bit there.” He said sheepishly.

“Well get back into this zone, man. Come on.” Chris said, slinging an arm over his shoulder and dragging him back to their class.

“Marcel! Thank god, you’re alright.” Adrianne said when she saw him come over.

“Gotham is a dangerous place.” Lila (who was naturally by her ‘besties’ side) piped in with that sickly ‘concerned’ voice that made Marcel’s ears grate like nails on chalkboard.

“You shouldn’t wander off like that, you could get yourself and all of us killed. I hope you didn’t do it for attention, that would be downright unsavory.” Lila added very unhelpfully.

Naturally, her second ‘bestie’ Alya instantly glared at Marcel.

‘Here we go.’ He thought, bracing himself for the verbal assault. Beside him, Chris gave a supportive shoulder squeeze.

“Seriously, Marcel? You risked your life and ours for the sake of attention?” Alya snarled.

Marcel sighed. He was not in the mood for this. He just wanted to charge his phone and sleep.

“I’m sorry everyone. I got separated and my phone died so I got lost. You all know how I am with directions.” He said, using their expectations of his airheaded clumsiness to his advantage.

“Look, it’s been a long night and it’s only the first day. I think we should all get some rest.” Mme. Bustier said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

‘Finally.’ Marcel thought. For once, she was actually doing her job!

“Goodnight, Chris. Night Sabrina. Night Alix.” He said.

“Night.” Chris said, removing his arm from his shoulders.

“Sweet dreams, Mar.” Sabrina said.

“Don’t forget to quadruple set your alarm.” Alix helpfully reminded him before going off to her own room.

On the way to his room, he was pulled aside by Adrianne.

“Everything okay, Prince? I would’ve transformed to look for you if you hadn’t-”

Marcel’s eyes widened and he slapped a palm over her mouth.

“Not here!” he hissed, glancing around as though someone could’ve heard them.

“Relax, we’re not in Paris.” Adrianne said, removing his hand.

“Exactly. You want Hawkmoth to know Chat Noire isn’t protecting Paris right now?” Marcel pointed out.

He didn’t mean to, he honest to god didn’t. It had simply happened at the wrong time and place. Chat Noire had landed on his balcony just as she ran out of time, detransforming right in front of his eyes. Both of them had panicked (Marcel of all people knew just how important a secret identity was, even better than her really).

He had been shocked that his ex-crush of all people was also his leather-cladded feline partner but….after a while, he realized it kinda made sense too. If it hadn’t been for his previous infatuation for her and the magic of the miraculous muddling his perspective, he probably would’ve realized it sooner.

So of course, he swore to keep her secret. That…..admittedly made their relationship a bit more complicated, especially since she’s still none the wiser to his superhero alter ego.

(And frankly, he wants to keep it that way.)

“Sorry, Prince. I was just worried for you.” She said with an apologetic smile.

He relaxed somewhat. “Thanks for the concern.”

“How’d you get back here anyways?” she asked, genuinely curious. “No offence but something tells me you meant what you said about you and directions.”

“My directional awareness isn’t that bad.” He defended. “And well, one of the local heroes helped me.”

He put a hand up before she could ask more questions. “Look, bottom line is, you have to be careful, Adrianne. Paris is compromised enough as it is with you here and nobody here knows Chat Noire. We both know the Gothamites here might not take to a random foreign hero showing up too kindly.”

Adrianne winced. At least she was aware of how much vigilance the Bat Family have over their home turf…..and the stern eye they keep over anyone else who runs with the cape, masks and tights crowd.

“You almost sound like Milord.” She joked.

“Someone has to take care of you when he’s not around.” Marcel smoothly sassed back.

“He can do it himself if he gave me his-”

“Again, no.” Marcel cut her off, seeing where this was going (again). “We’ve talked about this.”

She pouted and years ago, that would’ve made him cave in a heartbeat.

Not anymore.

“Goodnight, Adrianne.” He said, walking past her.

“Sweet dreams, Prince.” She said before walking back to her own room.

Closing his door, Marcel tossed his jacket off and threw himself onto the gloriously soft (if cheap) bed. Burying his head into the pillow, he screamed in frustration.

For the past three years, Hawkmoth’s been upping his game, making the fights harder, more brutal, more violent and downright agonizing to push through.

Akumas didn’t look like cheesy colorful supervillains from some 90s cartoon anymore, they were a threat. Their powers and skills were becoming deadlier, their mindset smarter, their weapons and possessed objects more versatile and their numbers increasing to the point he has to deal with almost half a dozen a day sometimes.

Chat Noire wasn’t helping either. If anything, she was becoming more irresponsible, slacking off to the point she wasn’t doing her job at all. She’d show up late to fights, sometimes not showing up at all. She’d just run into danger head on and get put out of commission or worse, mind controlled/captured as leverage. If that didn’t happen, she seemed more focused on flirting with him, throwing sassy quips and joking instead of trying to deduce the what the akumatized object was.

At this point, Luka, Kagami and Chris (the latter two under new identities now) became permanent wielders. Even Sabrina was now a temporary wielder of the Dog Miraculous, taking on the alias of Good Girl. She’s pretty adept at it too, making him contemplate the possibility of expanding the roster to include her as a permanent wielder as well. It was clear he couldn’t count on Chat Noire anymore and…..that hurt.

It also didn’t help that Chat’s advances were becoming more and more persistent. After discovering her identity, she’s taken to showing up on his balcony to vent about it, throwing a tantrum each time she rejected him. She even started coming to him to whine as Adrianne when she had the chance.

Needless to say, any romantic attraction he had to her has gone down the drain. But overtime, he saw it as a blessing in disguise. He had one less thing to worry about and could focus on taking down Hawkmoth.

But he still tried, god he still tried. He tried to give her another chance, reason with himself that she doesn’t have the easiest civilian life either but every tantrum, every absence, every Lila or Alya situation where she just watched and did nothing, every empty promise of support was dwindling his faith in her for redemption.

He sighed and finally picked himself up. He managed to find the energy to wash up, change into comfier pajamas, charge his phone and quadruple set his alarm before he finally hit the hay.

Before sleep took over him, his mind strayed back to Robin.

“That’s not far from here, I can escort you there.”

“Having fun?”

“Again, no thanks needed. It’s nice to swing with someone who doesn’t scream bloody like a crazed cat.”

For some reason, despite his exhaustion, his beat skipped a beat and began to thump in a rhythm he hasn’t heard since his crush on Adrianne three years ago.

 


 

“Look whose back.” Dick said when he saw his youngest sister arrive back at the cave. “You’re late tonight. Something come up?”

“Took a detour to help a tourist. Nothing big.” She replied, taking off her domino mask to reveal Dahlia Wayne, only biological daughter of Bruce Wayne.

She stared at her mask. She wasn’t sure but earlier, when she talked to that boy (Marcel, she recalled) she could’ve sworn her cheeks had imperceptibly heated up, meaning she had somehow blushed, of all things. Thank heavens her mask and the darkness covered it.

“A tourist?” Dick inquired.

“He was here on a school trip and got separated from his class.” She said, hoping it would satisfy him.

If anything, she belatedly realized she’s further pried open the can of worms if his $hit-eating grin was anything to go by.

‘He’?” he emphasized.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it was a boy. What a shock.” She said sarcastically.

“And? Did he run away screaming?”

“Dick, shut up or I will put itching powder in your suit.” She growled.

That shut him up. Hmph, good to see he knows his place.

“Wait, school trip? Was he French?” he asked, genuinely curious now.

She nodded.

“Ah….” He said, snapping his fingers in realization. “He must be part of that French class that’s coming over for the tour tomorrow at Wayne Industries. The one that won the competition.”

Now that was worthwhile information.

“Wait….” This was Dick Grayson. No way was this a fish with no line attached. “What’s the catch?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just saying and who knows? Maybe you’ll get to see him.” He added casually.

She rolled her eyes. “You make it sound as though I am interested in him.”

“So you’re saying you aren’t?” he pointed out.

“Goodnight, Grayson.” She said curtly before turning on her heel and walking away from her incorrigible brother.

But he got the last laugh if that damn smirk was anything to go by.

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

Dahlia lied in her bed, staring at her ceiling. Her mind refused to succumb to blissful slumber and kept going back to one thing.

Or rather, one person.

The French boy, Marcel Dupain-Cheng.

Alright, she’s admittedly......impressed. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t batted an eye, and hadn’t hesitated at all when those three muggers approached him.

She saw it all, she was there. She would’ve intervened but then she noticed the way he naturally adjusted himself, prepared for what’s to come and well, she became intrigued.

So she observed, ready to jump in when needed.

He didn’t disappoint.

He moved with assertiveness, his techniques controlled and honed from experience, bluebell eyes steely and even when held at gunpoint, he didn’t panic. Yes, he was taken off guard but he still remained composed and tried to calmly diffuse the situation with words.

She’s seen boys twice his age and size piss their pants in that kind of situation.

Up close, she noted that while his body seemed slim, he had broad shoulders and was tall, almost taller than her actually. When she thought about it, his bodybuild was probably similar to Dick’s. 

His raven hair was messy, bangs side-swept and his maroon leather jacket would’ve made Jason proud. It also made those bluebell eyes of his stand out even more like two blooming flowers amongst wilted grass in a dreary place like Gotham.

“Yeah well, still. You saved my life, thank you.”

“I can see why you guys enjoy this.”

She remembered how he had approached her without an ounce of fear, his entire being radiating with so much sincerity it threw her off. Many have shown her gratitude for saving their lives but….Marcel was different. His approach was softer, warmer in a way it made her insides react differently compared to the numerous other people she's saved under similar circumstances.

Then there was that smile.

It was…..beautiful. It had the beauty of the moon and the warmth of the sun in it, making the adorable freckles on his face look like stars.

And that precious smile had been directed at her.

When he had blushed, he looked……cute.

Wait, did she just call a boy cute?

She placed a hand over her heart and much to her bafflement (and worry) she realized it was thumping faster than it should. And her cheeks felt warm (was she blushing?! Again?! Over a boy?!).

‘Pull yourself together, Dahlia Wayne!’ she chastised.

She’s spent her whole life honing the ability to have full rein over her emotions; to be able to mold them into the sharpest blade she could use to focus on her goals and more importantly, remain in control. 

And now, this French boy has thrown off her equilibrium. Not many have been able to accomplish that outside her family, much less some random tourist she’s literally just met tonight for no more than a few minutes.

Dahlia Wayne never believed in ‘love at first sight’. It was a concept she scoffed at for it was nothing more than a foolish airheaded ditz’s fantasy; one desperate for the false comfort of a non-existent significant other.

Yet, as Marcel Dupain-Cheng lingered in her mind, Dahlia Wayne felt her firm disbelief in that concept waver for the first time.

“You make it sound as though I am interested in him.”

“So you’re saying you aren’t?”

.

.

.

Damn it, Grayson.

Notes:

Unlike canon!Marinette, Marcel is quite tall for his age with broad shoulders. He got it from his father after reaching his growth spurt but has his mother's more lithe body. Thus, he's not that much of a brute strength brawler.