Pack

When Marinette was younger, she never imagined she would present Alpha. Her father was Alpha, sure, but he was also a man. It was so very rare for a woman to be an Alpha that she hadn’t even considered the possibility. At most, she figured, she would be a Beta, like her mother--someone destined to take care of others when they could not take care of themselves. She liked the idea.

Until the day she presented.

She was eight. Young for a presentation, for sure, but everyone matured at their own paces. Her mother told her later that her older brother presented as an Omega at nineteen, much later than the rest of his peers. She was in her physical education class, stretching in preparation to get into the school’s swimming pool, when a wave of competitive spirit washed over her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her classmate, Kim, smirk at her and ready to dive into the pool. Biting back a snarl, she’d rushed ahead of him and dove, slicing through the water with a precision she didn’t know she had. After she’d beaten half the class in an unusual display of speed and dexterity, her teacher escorted her to the nurse, where she heard the news.

“This is your presentation. Congratulations, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng--you’re an Alpha.”

Her father had chortled happily at the news. “My daughter--a female Alpha! Atta girl!”

Her mother had combed her hair and said, “There’s no reason to be embarrassed, bǎobèi. You’re still you, no matter what your presentation.”

And so she slowly came to terms with the fact that she was now part of a group she never dreamed she would ever be in. She was a female Alpha.

Most all of her classmates knew about her secondary gender after her presentation, and by some hand of God, they all managed to stay in the same class through primary school and into collège. She watched them all present; Kim and Ivan joined her as Alphas, sweet Rose and the shy Mylène became Omegas, and the rest, unpresented, went on as Betas. She started her Alpha classes with Kim and Ivan in Sixièm, sitting among a semi-large group of peers from other classes and learning how to take care of Omegas. It would have been more awkward if Marinette hadn’t been sandwiched between two boys she’d known for, basically, her entire life; they discouraged the other boys from staring at her too long. They may have all been Alphas, but Kim and Ivan were the biggest and the most intimidating. No one wanted to mess with them.

The biggest change in her life--apart from her presentation, of course--came in Quatierème. She met her best friend when she transferred into Mme. Bustier’s class that year, a little timid but clearly proud underneath. “I’m Marinette,” she said when no one else moved to greet her. As she approached the new girl, she sniffed the air. A Beta. After the new girl took the outstretched hand Marinette offered, she gestured to the rest of the stunned class. “We’ve all be together since primary school, so it’s weird to see a new face. They’ll get over it.”

“Alya,” the new girl finally said. “My name’s Alya. It’s nice to meet you, Marinette.”

That same day, she met Adrien Agreste. She and Alya were coming back from lunch when she saw him hunched over her chair. She immediately jumped to the conclusion that he was the one who put gum on her chair and quite literally barked at him, putting as much Alpha oomph behind the sound as she could. Chloé immediately flew into a rage that no amount of Alpha authority could ever smother and she bullied the Omega teacher to send Marinette to the principal’s office. Adrien eventually cleared the confusion up, and Marinette found herself devastated that this beautiful boy was a Beta. If only he were an Omega, she would think wistfully to herself that night, listening to the rain pound on her windows. I could have him if he was an Omega.

The final huge change was meeting Tikki.

With the kwami, though, came a freedom Marinette never thought she needed. When she was Ladybug, no one cared about her secondary gender. When she was Ladybug, she could use her Alpha strength and not be stared at. When she was Ladybug, the only boy she had to deal with was her flirtatious partner, Chat Noir.

Three years later, she still wasn’t sure which change had the most effect on her life.

Alya burst into her room the morning of her eighteenth birthday with the same familiarity she’d had since the first night she slept over. “Happy birthday, girl!” she crowed, throwing her arms around Marinette’s half-dressed form. The smaller girl nearly toppled over from the force, but she grabbed onto Alya to steady herself, laughing. “Damn, eighteen! You’re a real grown-up now, aren’t you? You can go buy beer now!”

Marinette laughed and pulled a white blouse over her torso after extracting herself from Alya’s clutches. It was one of her originals, a plain short sleeved blouse with a few frills near the hem and a cute black bow at the middle of her neckline. She may have been eighteen, but she liked to dress in a childish manner. She liked the feeling of not looking like an Alpha. “Yeah, because that’s just what I’ve been dreaming of. Alya, if I wanted alcohol, I could just ask my parents.”

Alya threw herself onto Marinette’s chaise and groaned. “You’re so boring, Mari! Where’s that Alpha spirit?”

“If you want to hang out with an Alpha, go find Kim. If you want to hang out with me, deal with my boring-ness.” She had to get on her tiptoes to reach the back of her closet and grab her pink shortalls over the mess of clothes and shoes that riddled the floor. She winced at the sight. I gotta clean that up soon. She stepped into the shortalls and pulled the straps over her shoulder to buckle them. The shortalls were her own design, too, and she was rather proud of them. She studied herself in her full length mirror, frowning. “How do I look?”

She heard a snort behind her. “Girl, I’ve been wearing the same jeans for three days. You don’t wanna ask me for fashion advice.”

“Alya.”

“Fine.” Alya stood up and considered her before grinning. “You look amazing, as always. Honestly, when aren’t you the cutest person in the room?” She moved up behind Marinette, putting her hands on her shoulders. “I still say you can stand to show a little more skin…”

“I show enough thigh already. No one wants to see my chest.” She sank into a crouch to feel around for her pink flats in the mess in her closet. “What should I do with my hair?”

“You should let me do it.”

Marinette considered the idea. “Okay,” she said, slowly standing back up. “Just nothing too weird, okay?”

“You wound me.” She was forced to sit on the chaise and Alya dug her fingers into her hair. “Your hair’s so nice. I don’t understand why you put it up all the time.”

“Because it’s easy and I’m usually running late.” Marinette closed her eyes and drifted off as Alya tugged gently on her hair with both her fingers and her hairbrush. Alya’s fingers were pleasantly cool against her scalp and she sighed, leaning into the touch. She’d never admit it, not with her Alpha pride, but she loved being taken care of like this.

“Ta-da!” Marinette snapped out of her daze when Alya finished, and she turned her head to evaluate the work. Alya had braided two sections of her hair to meet at the base of her neck, tied together with a little pink bow, and left the rest of her hair down. Marinette had woken up with slightly curled hair that morning, and she was glad to have someone else deal with it. “What do you think?”

“I think I love it,” she told Alya, turning around to embrace her best friend. “You ready to go?”

“It’s kinda chilly,” Alya warned. “You probably wanna grab a jacket.”

Marinette sighed but resumed her adventure in the closet, fishing around until she found a black jacket she’d modified to have pink polka-dotted lining. It wouldn’t look great with the rest of her outfit, but she could just take it off when she was inside, so it didn’t hurt much.

She’d always been kind of jealous of Alya. With her dark skin, large bust, and wide hips, she could make just about anything look effortless. Even wearing an orange plaid shirt and three day old jeans, she looked like a runway model.

She shrugged the jacket on and grabbed her purse. Its weight reassured her that Tikki had ducked inside before Alya came into the room. She then reached for her backpack, made sure her schoolbooks were in order for the morning, and shouldered it on. “Let’s go.”

By the same strange hand of God that ensured they stayed together through primary school, Marinette saw the same faces she saw every year as she and Alya entered their Terminale homeroom class. They all grinned at the sight of her and pelted her with affectionate well-wishes, as they did every year. She was one of the oldest members of the class, after all, and they loved to remind her of the fact. Kim gave her an affectionate noogie before he was chased off by Alya’s anger at messing up her work, Juleka and Rose took a selfie with her, and Mylène and Ivan gave her a gift of a new sketchbook. They were the only bonded pair in the class, and they acted like they were already married. Kim and Marinette had teased Ivan relentlessly when Mylène showed up to class after a heat with a bruise over her scent gland, but they were very happy together.

Chloé, of course, had no present to give. While they weren’t outright enemies like they were in collège, they still weren’t good friends, and Marinette wasn’t very surprised to recieve no gift from the mayor’s daughter.To Marinette’s surprise, though, Sabrina darted over to her and pressed a small box into her hands. “Happy birthday,” she said quietly, and then she ran back to the desk she shared with Chloé. Marinette opened the box discreetly and was delighted to find a beautiful silver chain with a circular charm bearing an M. I’ll have to send her a thank you card, she thought to herself. I don’t want her to get in trouble with Chloé.

She slid the sketchbook and the necklace into her backpack, fishing her schoolbooks out in the same motion. Alya plopped into the seat beside her and started tapping away at her phone. Probably checking the LadyBlog, Marinette thought, thinking to the fan blog she ran in honor of her other self. She’s gonna kill me when she finds out I’m Ladybug. She shivered at the thought. She might have been an Alpha and Alya a Beta, but she wouldn’t dare incur her wrath. Alya was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, and her hair-trigger temper was nothing to sniff at. Marinette only hoped she would have a mate and pups by the time Alya figured out. She may take pity on me then. With that happy thought in mind, Marinette opened her well-worn sketchbook and started doodling.

The sound of her pencil scraping against the thick paper of the sketchbook drew Alya’s attention away from her phone, a feat not easily accomplished by any means. “What’re you sketching now?”

Marinette felt her face flush and she tilted the book so she could see. “Uh, I’m trying to design cute underwear for Alpha girls.” She felt like she was going to melt from the embarrassment of designing was what basically lingerie, but continued, “It’s hard for me to find underwear I like that can accommodate my… y’know… so I figured I’d try to make some of my own.”

Marinette was, clearly, a traditionally feminine person. Most people who saw her on the street thought she was an Omega, what with the way she dressed and acted. But, as an Alpha, she had a very impressive penis between her legs, one that had been growing since the day she presented, and she found it very hard to find underwear that could hide it well enough for her to wear clothes she liked. Even harder was finding underwear she felt cute in. It wasn’t a pressing issue by any means, and even if she did find a way to make cute underwear for female Alphas, it would be a very niche market. Only a little more than twenty percent of France’s population was Alpha, and less than a third of that twenty percent was female. Female Alphas were even rarer than male Omegas, after all, and they’d been dealing with buying boxers and boxer-briefs for generations.

Still…

“My mom says a good pair of underwear can really boost your confidence,” she concluded, staring at the sketch, “and I’ve never had that. I want to, and I want other female Alphas to, too.”

Alya wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “That sounds great, Mari. Make sure you model some for me when you have a prototype.”

Banter. She could do banter. “Yeah, ‘cause you definitely wanna see me in my undies.”

“Girl, I’ve seen you in your undies plenty of times. And let me tell you, if Nino never gets his shit together, I’d ride that seven ways to Sunday.”

“Alya!”

“Mari, come on. You’re hot. Deal with it. And our children would be beautiful, fight me.”

“You’re the worst,” Marinette grumbled.

“I’m serious! Anyone would be lucky to have you. Hey, Rose! If you weren’t engaged to that prince, wouldn’t you like Marinette?”

“Alya, I swear to God--”

Rose appeared startled, but she smiled in their direction anyway. It was a little sad, and Juleka turned just a little away, but Marinette felt her heart ache. Just about everyone in the class knew about Juleka’s feelings for Rose, but she was already claimed, so there wasn’t much that could be done. “Absolutely! Marinette would make a great Alpha.”

“Yeah!” Nath interjected, looking as red as his hair. “She’s so sweet and caring. You’d always feel loved if Marinette was your Alpha!”

Max popped up from wherever he’d been. “You’re biased because of your past feelings for her, so your view is unhelpful.”

“Shut up, Max!”

“I think it depends on what kind of partner you’re looking for,” Mylène interjected from where she was tucked against Ivan. “I’m such a big scaredy cat that I need someone big enough to hide behind. Marinette couldn’t do that for me. No offense, Mari.”

“None taken,” Marinette replied weakly. Damn Alya for doing this to me.

“You’re also biased, so your view is also unhelpful.”

“Max, dude, stop talking.”

“How about we all stop talking about this and spare me death by embarrassment on my birthday? How does that sound?”

“Stop talking about what?” Nino asked as he entered the classroom, Adrien in tow. He looked a little sickly for some reason; he was pale under his perfect model tan and his golden hair was limp.

Marinette sent Alya a very pointed look, but her devil of a best friend smirked and said, “About how anyone would be lucky to have Marinette.”

She. Wanted. To die.

After she killed Alya, of course. She was coming to hell with her.

Luckily, she was spared the agony of explaining what actually started the conversation when their teacher entered the classroom. She was much less forgiving than sweet Mme. Bustier, and the class immediately quieted and returned to their seats. Marinette kicked Alya under their desk for good measure.

By lunch, Marinette can see the pained expression on Adrien’s face from where she sits behind him. His usually handsome visage was twisted and he looked like he was going to be sick. Alya was preoccupied with her phone and Nino was slumped over his half of the desk, asleep, so Marinette took it upon herself to check on him. She slowly rose from her seat amid the sounds of her classmates packing up their books and found herself tiptoeing to him. When she stood next to his hunched, shivering form, she layed what she hoped to be a comforting hand on his forearm.

A jolt of heat rushed through her when their skin met, her nostrils flaring and pupils dilating. The sudden delicious smell of an Omega in heat flooded her senses and she felt herself start to harden. Shit.

Adrien was an Omega, and he was presenting.

Happy birthday to me, she thought while she still had a rational voice in her mind.