#myshitwriting

[emsylcatac]

I told myself I wouldn't write anymore but guess I lied and made an exception for tonight oop-

(no beta so sorry if some grammar's weird. also no leaks please I haven't read any & I'd like for it to stay that way)

I might add a 2nd chapter to fix that mess but when will this happen? will this actually happen?? who knows certainly not me

*****

“And then I had lunch with Nino,” Adrien said. “That was nice. We hadn’t managed to eat together for at least a week.”

Ladybug smiled. “I’m glad. I can’t picture you two being separated for too long.”

“Well, we don’t really have a choice this year. He picked literature, and I picked scientific. We’re not in the same class anymore,” he shrugged with half a smile, before brightening up. “But we still see each other during the breaks!”

Adrien then launched into an explanation of the rules of the latest board game he and Nino had played during the afternoon break. He kept looking into Ladybug’s eyes all the while, delighting in the way they lit up at his enthusiasm, and taking pride in the small chuckles that escaped her lips when he retold a particularly funny joke he’d made.

Ladybug loved hearing about his day. He knew she did because she always asked about it, every day when they reunited, sitting cross-legged face-to-face on the floor. And every day, she nodded along his stories and encouraged him to tell her more.

And Adrien loved telling her about his day. It had taken some time before he allowed himself to fully recount every detail that had happened, having never really been used to talking about himself at all with his father. But unlike his father who would cut him with a stern look or – he later realised – a twist of his ring, Ladybug never seemed tired to hear him talk.

Once he finished telling her about how Tom Dupain had insisted –again– on giving him free chouquettes when he stopped by the bakery, Adrien asked: “And you, my Lady, how was your day?”

She smiled sadly, in a way he was now too familiar with, and his heart dropped. 

Of course.

“Oh. Right. You can’t tell me. I forgot.” 

Like every single day. 

He looked away from her, not wanting to see the pity nor the apology he was sure to find in her eyes. The red kwagatama on his neck suddenly felt too heavy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he knew she was. It hurt nonetheless.

“That’s okay,” he whispered back, knowing well that it very much wasn’t. Adrien was scared it never would be.

“You’re allowed to be angry at me, you know,” Ladybug said, not for the first time since he’d started meeting her in secret.

“It’s not your fault. It’s my father’s,” he spat out the word. “And I’m…” he sighed, and with it let all his energy leave his body. “Ladybug, I’m so tired of being angry at people. I can’t… I can’t be angry with you on top of it.”

It wasn’t entirely true. A small part of him was angry with her, but he knew that she was suffering from the consequences just as much if not more than he did. And he truly was exhausted of feeling angry all the time, at his father, at Nathalie, at his mother, everyone who pretended they wanted the best for him but ended up destroying themselves instead; at Félix for keeping him in the dark, at himself for being too stupid to see what had been right under his nose. The list was long enough as it was and didn’t need to include Ladybug, who was a victim of his father's power hunt just as much as he was.

“But you’re allowed to be,” Ladybug said softly.

He felt a tear prickling at the corner of his eye.

“Oh, Adrien” Ladybug breathed, and he hated himself for how sad he’d made her sound. She extended a hand towards him. “I really want to grab your hand.”

He sniffed, and whipped his stray tear away before a stream could run on his cheek. “I really want you to grab my hand, too. And kiss it.” He reached for hers back but stopped millimeters away.

Ladybug smiled shyly, and he could guess the ghost of a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I want you to kiss my hand, Chaton. I always loved when you did it.”

This time, he felt his own cheeks lit up. They got lost in each other’s eyes, hands never quite touching, lulling Adrien further into the illusion that what they were sharing now was real.

But as it always did, reality found a way to crash down on him like the cold in the night right before dawn. Except unlike dawn that promised warmth and light, Adrien’s world stayed cold and dark as his phone rang. He glared at the traitorous device until he saw the name of the caller.

“Who is it?” Ladybug asked.

Adrien smiled bitterly. “Marinette.”

“Oh. Um…” Ladybug wriggled awkwardly. “Are you going to answer her?”

Adrien wasn’t sure he felt strong enough for that. But he had promised her and himself that he’d be there for her, no matter what. 

So he took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Sniffles greeted him on the other side, and he instantly felt bad for guiltily spending time with Ladybug when he could have been supporting her.

“He made me another strawberry tartlet. Tom– I mean, my dad. He…he told me again how much ‘she’ used to love them. He told me again how ‘she’d’ always steal some from the bakery counter as a kid. He thinks because ‘she’ loved strawberries that I would too.” Marinette let out a sob. “Well, you know what? I don’t love strawberries. I’m tired of strawberry tartlets. They’re fine, but they’re not my favourites, they’re her favourites. And I’m so sick of pretending they are to not hurt him.”

Adrien listened as she caught her breath, feeling at a loss for words.

“I loved my dad’s strawberry tartlets,” Ladybug interrupted sadly. “It reminded me of the picnics we shared on holidays in the countryside when I was a kid. We’d always eat some by the river.”

Adrien nodded in acknowledgement. It made sense that Marinette couldn’t understand what made this pastry so special.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette,” he whispered so quietly he wasn’t sure she heard him. 

“Everyone…everyone expects me to be just like her and I keep disappointing them because I can’t satisfy the expectations they have of me,” Marinette choked. “They want me to like sewing, they want me to wear pink… I can’t with pink anymore, all my bedroom walls are pink, everywhere I look there’s pink, it’s too much! I feel like… I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against tears that were threatening to take over him. She sounded so broken. He knew she was, of course he did, but he hadn’t realised how much she’d been holding in all this time. How much she’d been pretending for their sake – and as someone who’d mastered the skill for most of his life, he couldn’t let her suffer from it. 

And holding onto her ghost that he wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet wasn’t going to help her. It wasn’t fair to either of them. He knew all too well how to grieve someone he’d lost. But how did he grieve for someone who was still there?

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to get his voice under control. “I’m coming over, okay Marinette ? And then, I’m taking you to the store.”

Ladybug nodded in encouragement.

“And…and you’ll pick whatever colour you like. And I’ll… I’ll help you repaint your room with it, okay? How does that sound?”

Marinette sniffled. “Any colour I want? What if it’s something she hated?”

Adrien’s voice quivered. “What matters is what you want. I think she’d…I think she’d want you to feel good.” Ladybug smiled softly, nodding. “I want you to feel good.”

“Thank you, Adrien,” Marinette whispered. “I really…I really appreciate it. I’ll get ready,” and she hung up.

Adrien stared at his phone silently for a long time, before snapping his gaze back at Ladybug. 

“My Lady, I’m so–”

“Don’t,” she lifted a finger that went through his lips. “Don’t apologise. Especially not if it’s to take care of me,” she smiled. “Thank you for that. I really admire you, you know.”

“I really admire you too,” he said quietly.

“You should tell her that,” she replied. “She’d appreciate it.”

“I will,” he vowed.

He didn’t want to leave Ladybug just yet. But he knew it wasn’t reasonable to drag this on, and Plagg or Tikki would be coming back soon anyways. He really didn’t need to go through another lecture of how him meeting Ladybug hurt him more than it did him good, and that Marinette hadn’t given him her kwagatama for that.

Adrien spared one last glance at Ladybug, took a deep breath, and let his eyes flutter shut.

“End of reunion,” he whispered.

When he opened his eyes again, he was alone in the quiet of the room.

[kuudere-raia]

I needed to clear my mind so...

I needed to clear my head...so I wrote. It’s kinda long so I’m gonna put a “keep reading” thing just for the sake of saving space. 

Life is nothing but a scale. A balance maintained by the world and the hands of Fate that guide us along the long, dangerous path. I gaze at the scale of my life carefully, before returning my attention to the pathways laid out before me. One of these will lead me to happiness, one to ruin, and another to neither happiness nor ruin but it was simply existence. But which is which? What choices and outcomes will lead me to the ending I so desire? 

Sitting at the crossroads of Fate, a lone girl struggles to map out the life laid out before her. But so many influences were affecting her decisions. What about her family? Friends? The people she cared about most? Their happiness, while not her responsibility, was clearly a factor, as she sat at the crossroads, scale in hand, weighing her options in an attempt to choose. Does she forego her own wants for a life that would guarantee her misery? Or does she act selfishly, caring almost entirely for her needs with little consideration for others? Or worse still, does she settle so that she is more or less content, existing in limbo being never truly happy but not entirely miserable? 

It felt as though an eternity passed, and the girl still remained at the crossroads. Her options, scribbled on various strips of paper, surrounded her like a rose’s fallen petals. Do not act rashly, she told herself, Every option must be assessed. 

But no mortal has forever. 

The day finally came as the girl, having weighed every option, finally stood from her scattered petals. 

“Choose.” a voice ordered. The gentle, but firm command told her what she already knew, despite having more options to weigh: her time was up. She must move forward.

 Casting a nervous glance down each path, she took a deep breath and took a step forward. 

Then another.

 And another. 

A life spent pleasing others.

A life spent pleasing oneself.

A life simply existing, attempting to please both or neither at all.

Which did she choose? 

[poetryispainful]

To Run.

The art of running is an obscure one,

Individually unique to each entity.

Although in human life, we do much more

Than just run.

To run is to flee, to escape, to break free.

To run is to hide, and toss away pride.

We run away, forget our day,

We run fast, to avoid the past.

But when do we stop?

When we no longer need to hide?

When we find sanctuary at someone's side?

When we're composed and have already cried?

Running is a defence, we flee from pain.

But in order to stop, we need to gain.

Life never stops running, and neither do we.

Turn around, stop running, don't flee.

Life gives light, happiness and joy.

Life gives darkness, pain and loss.

We choose to embrace, we choose to leave,

But in order to move on, we need to breathe.

To stop running is to face your fears,

To stop hiding and wipe away the tears.

To stop running is to embrace,

To move on and pick up the pace.

We move on at the speed of light,

We just have to forget and fight.

Fight for our friends, and our lovers,

Forget the pain, or betrayal by brothers.

When you stop running, you will know

The beauty in the world, from the sea to snow.

For those who keep running, you may hide,

But someone will come and take your side.

[emsylcatac]

good evening, short Adrien & Félix post S5 finale fic hurt/comfort:

* * * * *

Adrien’s fists pounded on the door repeatedly, in a synchronised rhythm with the breath he was trying to catch. He figured he could have taken the lift, but the adrenaline and blind anger had surged him to take the stairs – standing still was not an option. And the door wasn’t opening fast enough.

“Félix!” he shouted, punctuating each word with a fist on the door, “open. the. door!”

The small, currently extremely tiny part of him that was still somehow rational, the one that had reminded him that his cousin did not need to find Astrochat bursting into his room through the window, told him that ringing the bell would be a better and far more efficient option. But Adrien had already listened to his level-headed side once by coming through the front door of the Londonian apartment, and estimated it was more than enough considering what his emotions could bear at the moment.

Besides, the pain he felt coursing through his knuckles and hand more intensely with each punch felt good.

“I don’t care if your girlfriend’s here and you’re busy smooching her right now, you better open that door or else I’ll—”

The words died on his tongue as the door swung open, his fist nearly colliding with Félix’ stoic face.

“Adrien. How did you get here?” he greeted, voice emotionless.

Adrien was glad Félix had at least the decency of not asking what he was doing here.

“You knew,” he spat instead of answering, storming inside the apartment as Félix took a single step aside to let him in. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me!”

Félix’ brows raised slightly. “Knew what?” He asked carefully.

Adrien nearly growled. Félix didn’t get to measure his words, like he had no idea what he meant — like he was testing whether Adrien had the full picture, or just one of the many things he’s hidden from him.

“Don’t play dumb with me,”  Adrien jabbed a finger in his chest, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. Nathalie told me everything,” he said, and oh no, he could feel the knot mounting in his throat and the start of tears pricking his eyes.

Adrien didn’t want to cry in front of poised, ever-so-collected Félix. He couldn’t handle his snarky comments at the moment.

“She told me about my father, she told me about the–the r-rings…” he shook his hand wearing said rings in Félix’ face to show him he knew perfectly well what he was talking about, “...everything!”

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to regain control of his emotions. 

As predicted, Félix remained impassive. “She did? Oh, good.”

Adrien spluttered. “Good? Good?! That’s it? That’s all you have to say?!”

Félix raised an eyebrow, and went to pick a deck of cards on the coffee table. “What else do you want me to say?” he replied, turning back to Adrien, passing the cards from one hand to the other with ease. “Congratulations? It’s about time?” He stopped playing with the cards and opened his arms. “Welcome to the club?”

Adrien clenched his fists. “How about ‘I’m sorry for not telling you about your father being a supervillain and about yourself being his sentimonster puppet, my dear cousin whom I loooove and respect and hated to lie to?’” he sneered.

Félix switched to splitting his deck of cards in two, then slotting them back together with his thumbs. Adrien would find impressive the ease with which he smoothly reunited the two piles into one if he wasn’t feeling so betrayed. As it was, his little magician shuffling only infuriated him all the more.

“It’s not that easy”, Félix said after having shuffled his cards three times.

Adrien scoffed. “Oh, really?” he crossed his arms. “It’s not like you never visited or didn’t have my number. But I guess it was much more entertaining to leave me in the dark and watch me stupidly struggle to even dare to say "no" to my father while you very nicely called me his puppet to my face.”

He hadn’t forgotten that comment the first time Félix had visited after his father and Adrien’s mother had passed. It had hurt at the time — it hurt even more now, to know that Félix had been taunting him with information and a freedom he hadn’t known he didn’t possess.

Félix stared silently in his eyes, and for the first time since he got there, Adrien thought he caught the flicker of an emotion he couldn’t quite pitpoint in the green of his gaze.

“You weren’t ready,” he spoke in a softer tone, and resumed shuffling his cards again.

Adrien let out a broken laugh that ended in a half sob. He could feel his blood boiling, the anger and despair that had been coursing through him since he learnt everything exploding out of his body like a sudden gust of wind. 

“But you were?!” he nearly cried. “Of course you think that you, who’s always sooo collected and so sure of yourself, were ready to learn everything. But I, your stupid, emotional and pathetic cousin, aren’t ready to know anything or least I’ll cry!”

Despite his best efforts, Adrien finally felt a few treacherous tears escape his eyes. He bit his knuckles, hoping it’d make them stay in, and looked straight into Félix’ ones, daring him to voice a single comment.

But Félix kept silent instead, and Adrien found no trace of mockery in his eyes. He put the cards back on the coffee table.

“I wasn’t.” Félix finally whispered, a slight tremble in his voice. “I wasn’t ready when I discovered it.” His gaze dropped to the ring on his finger.

His Amok, Adrien figured.

He startled at his admission. Suddenly, he could name which emotion was shyly dancing in  Félix’ eyes: shame.

“It’s not that I think you wouldn’t have been capable of handling it all,” Félix continued quietly. “In fact,” he let out a dry chuckle, and met his eyes once more, “I’m quite convinced you would have handled it far better than I did.”

Adrien thought about how much colder and distant Félix had seemed after losing their parents. About how he’d purposefully hurt him, and his friends. About how he’d decided to erase everyone who wasn’t like them, and create a cruel world where he thought they’d be happy. He thought about Félix’ jealousy, and his quest for revenge; his desire for freedom and for love.

“But it doesn’t mean you had to,” Félix breathed. 

And as Félix gazed at him with uncertainty, Adrien saw him. A broken boy who’d had to carry too much way too soon, and was struggling to recover from it all. And he understood.

He didn’t try to stop his tears this time, and did the only thing he could think of: he took his cousin in his arms.

He cried and cried, hugging Félix tightly, letting him think he was pathetic if he wanted — he couldn’t care less anymore. Adrien didn’t know if Félix was crying too, but he was hugging him back just as tightly, just as sincerely. It reminded him of a time that seemed long, so long ago, when they were close and the best of friends, and Adrien hadn’t known how much he’d missed that until now.

“My father was Monarch,” Adrien sobbed.

“I know,” Félix’ muffled voice replied.

“He–he’s dead,” he hiccuped, completely at a loss as to what to feel about the fact in regards to everything new he had just learnt.

“I know,” Félix whispered back.

“I’m a sentimonster,”  Adrien kept on. “We’re both sentimonsters.”

“I know,” Félix repeated again, and Adrien felt his hand rub timid circles on his back. “I’m sorry.”

Adrien hugged him tighter. He let all the tears in his body carry away his anger and pain, let himself be drained of all energy, until he couldn’t cry anymore. 

“Do you think… Do you think I was ready?” Adrien asked in a raspy voice after a while. “To…to learn everything now?”

A few seconds passed.

“You’re free,” Félix eventually spoke against his shoulder. “Your father is gone. You have people who love you and support you, and who make you happy. I think you… I know you’ll be fine.”

And Adrien knew he was right.

[emsylcatac]

it's still july in other parts of the world shhh I'm not late

For @ladynoirjuly 2022, day 21 - chocolate kisses

Read it on AO3

(i didn't beta it so hopefully there aren't too many grammar mistakes 🙈)

─── ·❋· ───

“It’s not that I don’t like dark chocolate,” Chat Noir explained for the third time that evening, gesturing calmly. Ladybug might just be pretending to not believe him, but he wouldn’t let her tease him freely without putting on a fight.

She grabbed a round-shaped chocolate from the small bag resting inches from his crossed-leg, and he suppressed a shiver as he felt the ghost of her hand brush his knee. He truly needed to get a grip—he was way past the age of feeling flustered by that, damnit. “It’s just that I think that milk chocolate tastes better.”

Ladybug let out a hum as she plopped the chocolate into her mouth, her legs swinging above her laying form a little faster as they did each time she ate one. Chat Noir picked a chocolate of his own and imitated her.

It didn’t taste bad. It didn’t taste delicious either. 

He quickly swallowed it.

(if Ladybug snorted, he ignored it.)

Clearing his throat and the after-taste, he readjusted his crossed-legs position, sitting a little straighter, and moving his knee a little further from the treacherous bag that would most certainly soon call Ladybug’s dangerous hand back.

Ladybug’s jaws moved as she took her sweet time to finish melting the chocolate in her mouth, the motion drawing in his eyes. Chat Noir wished, not for the first time that evening (or of his poor lovesick life for that matter), that he would one day reincarnate into a chocolate. Melting inside Ladybug’s mouth sounded like a much more tempting and cocooning fate than melting on the spot from her mere presence on a lone parisian rooftop, while wishing to be a dark round chocolate.

He bet that the inside of her mouth was warm—it was a mouth, afterall—, and soft. Not like he would know.

(well, that wasn’t exactly true, his brain traitorously reminded, he did know; there had been that one evening, on national day a year back, with them a little tipsy, she a little affectionate, and he a little in love, and it had ended with her in his laps with her hands in his hair and her lips on his, and her—

…but they didn’t talk about that.)

“And I think,” Ladybug’s voice pulled him out of the forbidden memory, as per Rule 31 of the List of Things That Never Happened Between Ladybug And Chat Noir, “that you’re a scaredy-cat, and that both milk and dark chocolate taste just as good.”

She looked up at him, smiling sweetly with her head propped on her hand, and grabbed another chocolate to eat, humming an off-key song he still found melodious. 

He scoffed. “You’re a liar, my Lady. Everyone knows that milk chocolate tastes better! And,” he mumbled, “I’m not a scaredy-cat.”

“You’re playing favouritism, Chatounet,” he rolled his eyes at the teasing nickname, “that’s not pretty and it’s very unhero-like.”

He scowled. “But it’s much sweeter! Don’t you prefer sweet and nice things?”

“You’re sounding awfully bitter for someone who pretends to prefer what’s sweet, Chaton,” Ladybug smiled wide, rolling on her back and (be still, his heart,) fluttering her eyelashes.

“And you’re sounding awfully rude for someone who eats chocolate daily,” he crossed his arms.

Ladybug sat up with a giggle, and he fell in love right then and there all over again. 

Twenty-one, and he was still at her mercy. All she needed to do was giggling, even if it was at his expense. He had stupidly thought once, a couple of years back, that he was over it. All he’d needed to be proven wrong had been this exact giggle, beautiful and lovely and Ladybug, after he’d told her a joke, and he knew. Her laugh had long since created the flaw in his immune system when it came to loving her, and he was forever cursed to succumb to her charms. He had then accepted that he was a lost cause, but the reminder always made him feel kind of pathetic.

She scooted closer to him, her knee brushing his (hadn’t he known better, he would have sworn she did it deliberately), and grabbed his hand to play with his ring and fingers as she often did. He watched as she massaged his hand, then pulled on his fingers one by one, before going back to massaging.

“Lots of dark chocolates are sweet, you know,” she told him, bouncing his hand from one of hers to the other this time. “Depending on the brand, or on how dark you pick your chocolate, some are sweeter than others.”

“Maybe, but,” Chat Noir said as she switched to drawing meticulous lines in his hand, “milk chocolate is still sweeter, and therefore, better.”

“And that’s why you gotta appreciate both equally,” Ladybug grinned, “because it makes the chocolate experience more diverse!” 

He pouted, because he was a mature cat. It made her giggle some more. She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Chatooon, I’m sorry there weren’t any milk chocolates left at the shop tonight.”

“What kind of chocolate shop doesn’t have milk chocolate left?” he whined.

She placed a feather kiss to the back of his hand (be still, his heart), and squeezed it. “I’ll make it up to you,” she told him, looking up in his eyes so softly he couldn’t doubt her words for a second. “Next time, I’ll find a shop that still has milk chocolate left. Even if it’s stupid because dark chocolate is just as good.”

“You don’t have to,” he hurried to say. But thank you. Also, that’s a lie and deep down, you know it, Buguinette.”

She shook her head with a tsk, and (disappointingly) dropped his hand to grab a chocolate from the bag.

“Say ‘aah’, Chaton,” she smiled, the lights of the city dancing on her left cheek just right, and making her eyes sparkle so brightly that he briefly wondered if all the happiness from the people of Paris wasn’t also being reflected in them. She was hypnotising, and he could only do whatever she asked of him. 

Dutifully, he opened his mouth. She delicately grabbed his chin, and pressed the chocolate to his tongue. She gently closed his mouth for him, and he might have died a little inside at the tenderness she displayed in her actions. 

He felt her eyes as he sort of chewed on the sweet. He hoped he was chewing okay and in a somewhat normal way—it would be embarrassing if he didn’t. He wasn’t as meticulous nor thorough as she was to completely melt it in his mouth, but he didn’t like tasting the strong bitterness for too long.

“So?” she said expectantly after a few seconds, “sweet, right?”

“Hm, shure, a shittle bit, bush not ash mush ash mishk chosholate,” he said between two bites.

She must have been set on torturing his poor heart tonight, because she giggled, again. He swallowed with a gulp. “You’re too stubborn. But, unfortunately for your poor kitty’s willpower, not as much as I am.”

Well. Didn’t he know it, and didn’t he love it?

She reached for his collar, pulling his necklace out from underneath his suit, where she knew it was hidden. He watched as she fiddled with the kwagatama and the two rings resting at the end of the chain.

“You know….” she started slowly, not looking away from his pendants, “I could prove to you that dark chocolate can be…sweeter…than milk chocolate.”

Chat Noir raised a brow. “And how are you going to do that, my Lady? It sounds like a challenge close to impossible to achieve.”

She bit hard on her lower lip. “I might have an idea.”

He hummed. “What kind of idea?”

“You’ll see.” She raised her eyes to his, bright and full of stars. “So? What do you say, Chaton?”

He tapped a finger to his lips. “What prize do you want, if you somehow manage to win, which by the way, I doubt?”

She blew a chuckle. “I’ll tell you when I do.”

He hummed again. “And what will be mine?”

She stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at him intently, almost shyly. “Anything,” she finally whispered, still searching his eyes, a lovely blush taking over her cheeks. “Anything you want.”

Chat Noir blew out a breath. Anything, she said. Anything he wanted.

But ‘anything’ never really meant anything, when what he wanted was what he knew she couldn’t give. ‘Anything’ made him vulnerable, because he could never really ask for what he longed for the most, unless he wanted to risk scaring her away. He knew from experience that her love wasn’t something he simply could ask for and be granted with at will.

Anything else, really, would have been preferable to ‘anything’ as a prize.

Chat Noir took the time to search her eyes, taking in the nervousness he could see in them and the blush still colouring her cheeks. What did she want him to want? Was it the same—could it be what he actually wanted? He didn’t dare to hope, but alas, his heart had always had a mind of its own. 

“Okay,” he eventually breathed. “I’ll tell you when we get there,” so he could still have time to think and be smart about it.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, took a deep breath, and plopped a chocolate into her mouth.

She held up a finger, signaling for him to wait. He watched as she focused on —he assumed— melting once again the chocolate into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she swallowed, and when she reopened them, they held newfound determination. His heartbeat sped up.

She slid her hands on his shoulders; climbed onto his laps; pressed her body to his. He forgot to breath because surely she wasn’t going to—

…but suddenly, her face was close, so close to his, and Chat Noir didn’t have to process what was going on and what was she doing—

“The taste lasts longer,” Ladybug whispered, her lips so infinitely close to his that he could smell the faint hint of chocolate from her breath.

“Uh?” he said, in the only tone he could really say anything at that moment: dumbly.

“When you melt the chocolate in your mouth,” she explained, but he understood nothing at all, “it makes the taste last longer.”

Chat Noir gulped. “I…yeah?”  The tremble in his voice was the least of his concern considering he managed to emit a sound at all.

Ladybug’s hands felt like feathers as they slid from his shoulders to his neck up to the sides of his face. She touched her forehead to his, and Chat Noir was pretty sure he completely lost the ability to breath this time.

“Are you…are you okay if I…?” Ladybug breathed against his mouth, brushing her lips against his ever so slightly.

If he’d had a voice, Chat Noir would have screamed that yes, of course he was okay, why did she even ask, would have begged her to please press her lips to his and take as much from him as she wanted. Instead, he must have nodded because not a second later, Ladybug lips were on his and she was kissing him. 

Chat Noir’s brain attempted to reboot three times and gave up on the fourth, when he felt her fingers tangling in his hair, and his lower lips being taken by hers.

He tried to kiss her back, afraid she’d stop if he stayed paralysed dumb for too long. His hands settled on her hips, drawing circles with his thumbs, and she must have enjoyed it because he felt her pressing closer to him, and he had to take a sharp intake of breath as to not pass out from feeling her this close. He considered pinching himself to make sure that no, he wasn’t dreaming, and yes, Ladybug was apparently very much willing to kiss him, but he refrained if only so he could keep his hands on her.

He had completely forgotten the hows and whys he had gotten lucky enough to land himself with Ladybug in this situation. The reminder came when he felt Ladybug sliding her tongue against his lips so he would open his mouth to let it in, to let it slide alongside his: that’s when he registered the taste she carried. Dark chocolate suddenly became his favourite, for he was in Ladybug’s arms while she made a complete mess out of him. Chat Noir idly wondered if kissing someone to taste chocolate wasn’t a little gross; but then, Ladybug hummed against his lips, and he decided that nothing about his situation was even close to ‘gross’. He whimpered, helpless against the onslaught of all she was pouring out to him: he felt her affection, her want, her love, everything he’s ever dreamed to receive from her, and he made sure to give it all back to her with just as much dedication. 

Maybe, just maybe, Chat Noir thought as he felt Ladybug’s hands roam in his hair, neck, shoulders, chest, and arms, she too was a little in love with him. Because surely she must have known that he must have gotten a good taste of chocolate by now, yet she was still pressing her lips to his, sucking on his lower one at times as he drowned under her ministrations. While Chat Noir would be damned if he was the one to pull away from her, Ladybug didn’t seem to want to stop either, and the realisation made him feel like he was floating amongst the clouds above their heads. Every time he thought that she was about to pull away from him, she came back with renewed passion.

He dared to bring her closer to him, to which she let out another delightful sound that had him shivering from head to toes.

Eventually, Ladybug slowed her pace, settling on leaving a few slow kisses on his mouth. When she stopped, she stayed close to him, and rested her forehead against his, breathing heavily. 

Chat Noir took his time to open his eyes, only to find himself lost in hers.

“S-so,” Ladybug whispered, panting, and Chat Noir was relieved to hear she was still just as out of breath as he was, “d-do you…do you agree? With me? That…that dark chocolate can be sweeter?”

He chuckled quietly, still unsure to believe what had happened just yet. Her finger brushed his swollen lips, the tenderness of the gesture a testimony it indeed happened. “Yeah,” he blew, “y-you were completely right, my Lady. Sweet. It—it’s very sweet. M-mindblowingly sweet, even.”

She nuzzled his hand. He couldn’t even remember how nor when it had ended up on her cheek. “G-good. I’m…I’m glad,” she smiled.

Chat Noir inhaled a few times, still catching his breath. “S-so…Wha-what do you want?” he managed to ask. “For your prize?”

She laughed, kissing softly his palm, then trailed a path of kisses down till the inside of his wrist, and oh, god, he loved her, she was too much, she was way too much for his heart, she was—

“You,” she said, making him both fall from high and soar. “I want you. All of you. If you’ll have me, too.”

He took her face in both his hands and gave her one long, slow kiss on the lips. “My prize,” he told her, “it would have been you, too.”

Ladybug’s smile was one of the most beautiful he’d ever seen on her. “I was hoping it would be.”

And so Chat Noir let her take him, take him, take him.

[emsylcatac]

Take that "Catwalker is Chat Noir" ladynoir reveal anon (no beta for now though sorry, if there's English mistakes oop- 🙈):

─── ·❃· ───

Wednesdays afternoons now found Ladybug and Chat Noir patrolling together, from three to four, from north to south. Or, as it was the case for this particular Wednesday, sitting on the edge of a roof, with a close view on the Eiffel Tower, dangling their feet as they just enjoyed each other's company.

And it was important that they took this time together, they had agreed on, just the two of them, every week, and they were very keen on respecting this new routine.

They had talked, and made promises, and cried, and talked some more after that faithful day on which Chat Noir had—albeit briefly—given up his miraculous. It had been hard, but it had also been oh so liberating.

And while Chat Noir wouldn't say they were quite back to being the invincible duo they once were, he knew they were both trying, and that was enough for now.

Because they both wanted it and they were both ready to put in the time and effort for each other. That made them feel stronger with each passing day.

"So," Ladybug said, after a few minutes of dangling her feet in silence.

"So?" Chat Noir repeated.

She scrunched up her nose, squinting her eyes as she looked over the city in front of them. She opened her mouth, and closed it. Chat Noir patiently waited. He knew by now that she tended to do that little funny face where she opened and closed her mouth several times when she was trying to formulate what it was that she wanted to say. Usually, it meant that some serious talk was at play.

"I've been thinking," she finally said.

But Chat Noir wasn't a very serious person, and he couldn't help the grin that drew on his face and the waver of a laugh in his voice. "Oh, you do that?"

Her gaze, until then lost somewhere in the horizon, snapped towards him in a glare. He grinned wider when a challenging flame lit up in her eyes.

"More than you do, clearly, yes," she answered.

Well. He supposed he deserved it.

He squinted his eyes, in an attempt to send a glare right back at her. Three seconds passed, a fourth, her lips started to waver at the fifth, making his follow the movement, and that's when they both dropped the act and dissolved into a fit of light giggles.

No, they weren't quite back to full blown laughters of solid complicity, but they were getting there. It was nice.

"More seriously," Ladybug said, her voice still carrying the melody of her remaining laugh, just as he composed himself next to her. "What was I saying again?"

"You were thinking," Chat Noir reminded her, to which she nodded.

"I was thinking," she repeated. "As I do," she gave him a pointed look. "And...You know, if something were to happen to me...I mean, you've met Scarabella."

And just like that, the pleasant tingling sensation he felt while bantering with her evaporated to make way to a cold dread. It must have shown on his face, because Ladybug's eyes widened in panic and she started to gesticulate wildly, her hands moving in unharmonious motions.

"N-not like, permanently! I meant if I'm unavailable one day! Temporarily, like...like with last time, when Scarabella came!"

Ah. That felt better. He tried to smile to reassure her, his heart rate slowly calming down.

"Like," Ladybug went on, clearly missing his signal that it was fine, he had understood, "i-if I fall sick, o-or if I'm sent to jail for phone thievery—actually no, that sounds bad, forget it—or if I'm forced to leave for one—just one! not more!—day, or—"

Chat Noir decided to take pity on her, and put a hand on her shoulder, effectively stopping his rambling partner as she blinked up at him worriedly.

"I got it, Ladybug, it's fine," he told her.

"I would never abandon you, Kitty, you know that, right?" she gave him big babydoll eyes, pouting in that way of hers she had when she wanted to make sure that he understood she meant no harm.

He smiled. Yes, he knew, but the reminder was always coming like a comfort blanket, wrapping him up in the reassurance that she would always be there for him if she could help it. "I know that now. Don't worry. What was it you wanted to say, about Scarabella?"

She nodded, her expression focusing once more. "Right! Well, if I need to be replaced for a fight—just one fight!—, then I have Scarabella to cover up for me. But I was thinking, if you need to be absent one day for whatever civilian reasons...Well, then you don't have anyone to cover up for you."

He frowned. "No, but you would have all the other heroes to make up for it, wouldn't you?"

Because that was what she had done before, when he had been caught up in his father's press conference, or when he had felt too useless and numb with depressing thoughts to join a fight.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "Yes but...there are times where having the black cat makes it way easier. And what if we absolutely need cataclysm and nothing else can work? We need to think about it and be prepared for this eventuality."

That...sounded fair. "Alright. So you want me to have a replacement, then? Just in case I know I'll be absent?"

"Yes. Exactly. Just in case."

Chat Noir nodded. "Okay. Should I...choose someone, then? Or should you? Because," he bit his lip, looking down on his laps where his hands were clasped together and he was fiddling with his thumbs, "I'm not sure I want to tell someone my identity."

He felt stupid admitting it. Surely, revealing himself to someone close to him shouldn't make him feel nervous, and instead relieved that he didn't need to hide such a secret taking a huge part in his life anymore.

But he was barely starting to understand who he was himself. And having someone in his life knowing a part of him he himself wasn't quite sure to comprehend just yet was scary.

However, it seemed that Ladybug already had it covered.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that, I mean, you wouldn't need to. I have an idea," she said, a hint of excitement to her voice. "If you agree with it, that is."

He felt himself relax, and stopped staring uselessly at his laps to look at her instead—it would have been a shame to miss the unexpected bashful trepidation on her face.

"You, um, you remember when you gave up the ring?"

He was about to politely answer that yes, he did, to avoid her the embarrassment of realising how silly such a question was, but she beat him to it. "I mean, ugh, of course you remember, stupid," she mumbled, hitting her head two times with her hand. "Anyway, when that happened, there was this...this guy," she giggled, "that Plagg went to."

He watched as she looked in front of her, eyes focused on nothingness and images only she could see. She delicately put a strand of hair behind her ear, and a subtle shade of pink dusted her cheeks.

He had no idea why she was acting this shy all of a sudden.

"And, well," she kept on, smiling as she talked, "I don't know his identity, and he knew the rules really well, and he was, um...he was pretty great," she sighed, the kind of sigh he would let out after he just ate a croissant.

...Uh.

"We worked—well, not as good as you and I, that's for sure. But it wasn't a disaster and he knew his stuff, you know?"

Ha. Yeah, he knew, indeed. "Kind of like when I worked with Scarabella, you mean? We made it work, but it wasn't as natural as you and I together?" he tried, fearing where Ladybug was going with all of this.

She clapped her fist in her hand. "Yes, that's the idea! I mean, you had troubles working with Scarabella for an entirely different reason than me with Catwalker," she giggled and blushed again, and he still didn't get why, "but, you know, he was trustworthy and competent."

Chat Noir hummed. "So what you mean is that you want me to take him as my backup replacement?"

Ladybug nodded. "Yes. If you agree with it, that is. Oh, and you don't need to tell him your identity if you don't want to or if you're not comfortable with it," she hurried to say. "Plagg knows who he is so he could just take the ring to him like last time. If and only if you're okay with it, of course!"

Well. It's not that he didn't want to, but having himself as his own backup might be a problem. He understood why Ladybug thought it was a good idea, he really did, and it was a good one in theory.

But he couldn't exactly agree to it.

"Did he..." Chat Noir started, searching for the right words. "Did he like puns, my Lady?"

Ladybug frowned, clearly confused by the question. "Um, I'm not sure? He didn't laugh at mine, but—"

"Then it's a no," he grinned.

"What?" she scoffed. "You can't say no just because of puns, Chat Noir!"

"And why not?" he crossed his arms. "If I need a replacement, I need one who can fit my role perfectly. And the basic requirement to be a good Chat Noir is to like puns. I don't make the rules."

"You just made the—"

"I don't make the rules, Ladybug!" He insisted.

Ladybug looked downright affronted. "But that's a stupid requirement! And maybe he likes puns, he offered to laugh at mine the next time I made one!"

"First of all," Chat Noir replied, "I'm offended that you tried to be on pun-basis during your first encounter with him while I had to wait and wait and wait until you deigned to join me in my punning journey—"

"That's not true, I pun all the time too, I just have a better timing than—"

"—Second of all," he raised a finger, "puns aren't meant to be forced-laughed at. Either you laugh, or you don't, but you can't just decide that you're gonna laugh in advance," he crossed his arms again, proud of how well he'd just pleaded his case. "So, it sounds to me like this Catwalker of yours doesn't like puns. Therefore, I don't want him as my backup replacement."

Ladybug was scowling at him, and not playfully. "Well," she sighed, but this time the kind he let out after Plagg had compared his love life to fermenting cheese one time too many, "it's a good thing he doesn't then, unless you want him to steal your moves."

He hated that she had a point. Still, he couldn't give up.

"But really," she kept on, "you can't just refuse for puns. He was perfect, polite, nice, serious, encouraging, dreamy, competent, a quick-thinker, and—"

"D-dreamy?!"

Ladybug's eyes widened, her blush furiously deepening, and really, what the hell did that mean. "I meant trustworthy! He was a trustworthy person! A-anyway, you're the perfect black cat for me, but what I mean is that...I think he could be a good choice for a backup. Besides, do you have a better option, hm?"

Chat Noir could be stubborn, but he had to recognise: Ladybug was way more stubborn than he was.

Nino was out of question, as he could be called as Carapace at the same time. Suffice to say, he did not have a better option.

"I...don't," he admitted reluctantly.

Ladybug nodded. "Good. Then that's settled."

"But Catwalker still can't be my backup."

"But why not? I liked him, and I'm sure you would like him too!"

He stopped himself from whispering in soft awe "you liked him?", first because he would sound stupid, and second because what he was about to confess was even stupider, so he didn't need to ridicules himself this much.

She didn't exactly leave him a choice. He took a deep breath, and locked his eyes with hers despite the mounting embarrassment he could feel invading his body.

"You...promise you won't laugh at me or hate me if I tell you?"

Ladybug frowned at first, and then her expression softened. "Of course I won't, Kitty. I could never hate you."

He smiled a little at the reassurance, but it didn't quite reach his ears.

"Well...so about that time Plagg went to fetch Catwalker...Actuallyhecamebacktomeandwedidsomefashiondesignallday."

At Ladybug's widening eyes, Chat Noir felt the rush of shame coming in with renewed force. Not able to take it anymore, he promptly hid his face in his hands.

"What?" Ladybug breathed.

"Plagg came back to me and we did some fashion design all day. I was Catwalker," he confessed, the sound slightly muffled by his hands.

"What." Ladybug repeated, more bewildered this time.

Slowly, he peaked through his fingers to gauge her reaction.

...And that's when Ladybug chose to let out a full on belly laugh. So much for promising she wouldn't laugh at him.

And since she decidedly wouldn't stop, he took his hands away from his face to cross his arms, glaring at her.

"You said you wouldn't laugh," he accused, pouting.

Ladybug didn't care about what he just said as she kept on giggling like he was the funniest joke she'd heard. "You-you were Catwalker?"

"Yes," he clicked his tongue. "And I don't see what's so funny abou—"

"I don't believe it," she cut with a smug smile.

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Because," Ladybug just said.

"Then why are you laughing?"

She had the audacity to giggle some more. "Because it's a funny joke, there's no way you could have been Catwalker."

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow. "Alright, and what makes you so sure about it, uh?"

"Because there's no way I could have been attracte—I mean, fooled. I know you, and Catwalker was a very polite gentleman who didn't make puns," she stated matter-of-factly.

"And I'm not a very polite gentleman?"

"I—wha—you—well, you are, not as much as he was but sure, you are. But you make puns!"

"That's because Plagg told me to not make any puns," Chat Noir explained. Forget about feeling embarrassed now, he just wanted to make her feel embarrassed for not believing him. "Plagg said that I had to act perfect and obedient like with my fath—like I do, sometimes," she let out an ugly snort that he ignored, "so that you would still want me as your partner."

"Oh, Kitty," she giggled, and ruffled his hair, which made him pout harder. "You're so funny."

"I'm not!"

He was, but because of his hilarious sense of humor, not because he claimed to be Catwalker (which he was!).

"But I would have recognised you," she insisted.

Chat Noir scoffed. "Like you thought I had been akumatised into a giant sentimonster black cat?"

Her smile instantly froze. Got her.

"At least," he grinned, "I'm glad that you think highly of me enough to recognise that I wouldn't eat grass and spit balls."

Her lips drew an 'O' shape, and her cheeks once again turned pink. For a few seconds, she was just staring at him, gaping uselessly like a fish out of the water.

"Y-yo-you...," she pointed at him, then shook her head, and rapidly tapped her cheeks as if to clear her mind, "You r-really were Tackwalker? Walkater? I mean, Catwalker?"

Now that she seemed all shy again, he felt the embarrassment from earlier creeping back on him.

"Yes," he whispered.

She let out a squeak that she immediately tried to muffle with her hands. She sneaked a glance at him, then looked away, only to furtively peak at him again.

He drew his knees to him and put his hands on them, holding them close. "And I'm...sorry about all of that and the troubles I caused that day, I was—"

"It's fine," she blurted out. "You're hot—fine, it's alright, we were...We were both angry and sad and...you don't have to papologise, you were ferpect! And I...I think it helped us in the end," she smiled tentatively at him.

He returned her smile. "Yeah, I think it did. Plagg...he helped me a lot, that day, I owe him big," he chuckled fondly.

Her hand came to cover his. "I owe him big, too."

They smiled at each other, and Chat Noir felt that at that moment, they had just healed yet another of the wounds that their partnership had recently suffered, like gluing a new shard of glass to a once broken vase that is repaired piece by piece. And with how she was looking at him, he knew that she felt it, too.

"So you see," Chat Noir said after some time, somewhat sheepishly, "I can't really have Catwalker to be my back-up replacement."

"Indeed," Ladybug nodded, "because you're, um, you're Catwalker, right." She groaned. "I can't believe I didn't recognise it was you!"

He laughed. "That's because I didn't make jokes, don't feel too bad! If I'm being honest, I didn't recognise myself much either."

She didn't need to know the details of his internal identity crisis, so he didn't elaborate.

"That must have been so hard for you, to not make a single pun," she teased.

He sighed dramatically. "My Lady, it was pawsitively pawful, you have no idea! A catastrophe!"

They giggled some more at his antics, before a new calm settled over them.

"Can I, uh...can I ask you something weird?" Ladybug looked at him shyly.

He nodded.

"Were you sincere, that day? I mean," she made a gesture of looking for the right words with a hand, "when you were Catwalker, and you said that you...you said that you would take care of me, a-and that Chat Noir—well, you—was lucky to be my partner?"

He gave her a soft and fond smile, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Ladybug, I might have been more subdued, and way less funny than how you know me," she giggled softly, "but...I'm still me, and I'm always sincere when I tell you things like that. I hope you know that."

She smiled brightly at him, face flushed, and surged forward, taking him by surprise as she hugged him to her. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

"Always, little bug," he murmured back, stroking her back up and down.

Just like that, another piece was fixed to the broken vase.

─── ·❃· ───

"I can't believe I thought Catwalker was dreamy," was the first thing Marinette said once she got home and released her transformation.

She slumped on her bed with a groan. There was no way she had been unknowingly attracted to Chat Noir. No way.

"Well," she heard Tikki say, feeling her hovering above her seal-like form on the bed, "maybe Chat Noir has a dreamy side you don't know about?"

Marinette sat up to glare at Tikki. "But he can't be dreamy, he's Chat Noir!", because that alone completely proved her point.

"Why not?" Tikki inquired, and it was fair of her to ask such a question, but Marinette would rather not dwell on this particular topic, thank you very much.

"Tha—becau—it's—oh, and anyway, it was just my mind playing tricks on me because I was sad and stressed that day," she waved her kwami off, "nothing more! And it's not like I had that much of a crush on Catwalker."

And she hadn't! It had just been a passing-by thought. Nothing worth making a big deal out of.

"If you say so, Marinette," Tikki giggled.

"Besides," she grabbed a picture of Adrien from her board, "it's not like it matters. For I am in love with Adrien, not Catwalker, and certainly not Chat Noir! Ha! Take that, Chatwalker Noir! Try to be as dreamy as Adrien if you can!"

And that was a good enough explanation as to why she couldn't have been that attracted to Catwalker, she reasoned.

She smiled at the laughing face of Adrien Agreste, who was beautiful, looking so carefree as she remembered him laughing at one of Nino's jokes, with his hair flowing in the wind. "You're the only dreamy boy to me, Adrien," she told the picture before kissing it.

If Tikki's silence was particularly loud after she just said that, well, she supposed that she had successfully managed to convince her kwami completely.

(And if the next day, she hugged Chat Noir a little too close and a little too long, inhaling his scent as he carried her out of the way of the akuma's attack, well. It didn't have to mean anything.)

[emsylcatac]

ask her (me) out

Summary

When Marinette accidentally discovers Chat Noir’s identity along with Alya (and after a good week of freak out on Marinette’s part), she becomes extremely invested in Ladybug and Chat Noir’s love life. She now is a woman on a mission: to persuade Adrien that he has to ask Ladybug out on a date.

A noble cause for which things—that Marinette should have really expected, considering her track-record—don’t quite go according to plan.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Read it on AO3

@ladyofthenoodle happy very late tocuspoge ♥︎ I was your secret Tikki and I'm super glad I got you! I'm sorry it took so long

A big thank you to Lisa for beta-reading ♥︎

─── ·❃· ───

“I’m not asking Ladybug out.”

Marinette creases her eyes, a pout on her lips, and mimics Adrien’s crossed arms from her position on his bed.

Well. That won’t do.

“And what does it cost you to try?”

Adrien sighs, uncrosses his arms and puts an exaggerated finger on his lips. “Hmmm… let’s see... Pain, the embarrassment of being rejected again, and probably a yoyo to the head,” he ticks a finger for each argument. “And I’ve lost enough brain cells as it is, so I’d like to keep my remaining ones intact for the maths test on Friday, thank you very much.”

Marinette purses her lips and taps them in a rapid rhythm with a finger. Cool motives, she thinks as he crosses his arms again, his eyes defying her to refute his arguments. Still murder.

Of her heart, certainly, but a murder nonetheless.

“What if…,” he raises an unimpressed brow, “...you asked her out as Adrien instead of Chat Noir?”

Adrien’s eyes widen comically at her innocent suggestion, as if she has just spilled the craziest idea he has heard from her yet. Which, granted—she just has. “Marinette, no offense but are you insane?!”

She bites down the ‘yes, insanely in love with you’ threatening to come out of her mouth.

Instead, she shrugs. “Maybe a little.” The ‘Don’t you like that in a woman?’ is also forcefully kept silent.

“But picture this,” she raises two fingers before he can intervene and change the important matter at hand. “Ladybug swinging into your room, a bouquet of roses in her hand. She walks up to you, drops a kiss on your forehead, and slowly takes your delicate hand in hers and she…” she gasps, putting her hands on her cheeks, the images of the fantasy she’s creating coming one after the other, “and she kisses the back of it, which is nicer than when you do it as Chat Noir by the way because she can actually feel your skin.”

She doesn’t know if he pictures it, but she very much does and has to pause to catch a breath, feeling her cheeks heating up at a consterning speed under her palms. Adrien’s face has taken on a lovely shade of pink, and he’s biting hard on his lower lip and—

...She really, really needs him to just ask her out already.

She swallows the urge to bite it herself and ask if a bug had caught his lip — if at the end of it all she manages to at least get the cat to have her tongue, she would consider herself extremely lucky.

“Then,” she goes on, “she could carry you at dusk, when no one’s looking, and swing to a high secluded post with a view of all of Paris and the illuminated Eiffel Tower. It would be so romantic and magical. And since you wouldn’t be transformed, you’d have to stay close to her and let her hold you in case you fall and—”

“Marinette,” and really, does he have to interrupt her when she’s about to get to the good bits, “not that I would...mind, because I honestly would not, in fact I’ve thought about it too once… or twice….or….” he giggles nervously, a hand coming to caress the back of his neck. “But realistically, I doubt Ladybug would agree to date a civilian.”

That’s technically true, but Adrien is no ordinary civilian, hell, he’s no civilian at all.

Which means that Ladybug would probably agree to go on a date with him. She would know—she’s Ladybug.

“Well,” she reasons, “you won’t know until you try.”

Adrien stares at Marinette. Marinette stares back at him. A few seconds pass, in which she squints hard at him and tries to convey to him all of her convincing powers.

“I don’t know…,” he finally heaves a sigh, and her hopes dissipate with it, “I’ve tried so hard and so many times that I… that I’ve kind of come to lose hope, you know?”

He gives a nonchalant shrug, a disheartened smile on his lips. Marinette’s heart goes for him, even more so since she knows perfectly well how he feels. But discovering his identity had renewed all her hopes, jostled her feelings and made her fall for him all over again.

“I think I should just… give up and keep on moving o—”

“Certainly not,” she shouts, suddenly getting up from the bed in her outrage at this terrible, terrible idea. She almost feels bad for startling Adrien but her love life—their love life—is at stake, and its fate rests solely on her persuasiveness. A startled kitty is only a small sacrifice for their happily ever after in comparison.

She marches right up to him, and he suddenly looks very small despite being half a head taller than her, and she grabs his shoulders, looking him straight into the eyes. “It’s obvious that you and Ladybug are meant for each other! The way you trust each other in battle, the way you look at each other, it’s all so clear!”

She shakes him with each word, because she’s that desperate, and she’s almost nose-to-nose with him now and it’s a beautiful sight, the way his pupils shrink, his lips part slightly, and his cheeks darken…

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice interrupts, causing both Marinette and Adrien’s heads to snap toward the door, “I was with Nino busy playing, uh, Super-Pinguino…” Alya trails off, having just entered the room and taking in the scene before her. “...Which it... looks like you two were about to play as well...”

Marinette drops Adrien’s shoulders at once, raising her hands up, which is a solid proof that nothing’s been happening at all, and starts giggling nervously—another sign that truly, nothing’s been happening at all. “Aaaalya we were just waiting for you to start!”

“And we weren’t about to play that game, I don’t have it downloaded on my phone” Adrien, bless him and his innocent heart, chuckles.

Alya’s eyes darts from him to Marinette. “Then what...were you…”

“Nothing!” Marinette cuts, waving her hands in the air, just when Adrien, unbless him, says “she wanted me to ask Ladybug out!”

Alya’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. She raises her eyebrows at Marinette, who can almost hear her yelling “Are you insane?” into her ear. Marinette only shrugs sheepishly in reply. Sure, she’s insane—insanely in love with him, that is!

Without breaking (judgmental, incredulous, terrifying) eye contact with Marinette, Alya walks up towards Adrien’s desk, drops her school bag on the floor, and finally looks up to Adrien instead with a hand on her hip.

“Before we start to work on the history project—”

“—Please don’t tell me you too want to set me up with Ladybug,” Adrien cuts her with jointed hands, to which Alya pushes a finger on his lips to silence him with a ‘shhhh’.

“Before we start to work on the project,” she repeats, “we’re gonna find the best way for you,” she takes her finger off his lips and pokes at his chest, “to ask your Lady-love out.”

Marinette can’t contain the squeal that escapes her as all the love she carries for her best friend explodes, and she hurries to hug her from behind, resting her head on Alya’s right shoulder. Adrien groans and plops on his chair, and she can’t help but flash him a toothy victorious smile.

“You owe me three croissants and a whole box of lime macarons,” Alya whispers to her through gritted teeth. Marinette giggles and nods in her shoulder for an answer — she’ll give her all of that and more if she wants to.

“Well,” Adrien sighs and gestures towards his bed, “make yourself at home.”

Alya sits criss-crossed on his bed, while Marinette hugs her knees — she’ll need something to hold on to in case he agrees to whatever plan they’ll make.

“So,” Alya claps her hands together when they’re both comfortably installed, facing Adrien, “you don’t seem to want to ask Ladybug out. Your reasons?”

He sighs again. “I’ve tried so much in the past, and after our recent, um... miscommunication problems, I don’t think it’d be really welcomed to push further. Plus,” he adds bitterly, “it’s not like it ever worked anyway.”

Alya hums thoughtfully. “Good points,” she says, as Marinette’s head almost snaps towards her in betrayal, “but have you considered that...you haven’t used the right methods?”

Marinette breathes a sigh of relief. Alya will still get her macarons.

Adrien frowns. “The right methods?”

“The right methods,” Alya nods. “And you’re in luck! See,” she wraps an arm around Marinette who smiles, “we’re girls. We know exactly what makes girls swoon and I can guarantee you that with our foolproof plan, Ladybug will be in your arms in no time.”

Adrien doesn’t look convinced, so Marinette decides it’s her time to intervene. “I’ve seen the way she’s been looking at you recently. She’s totally in love! I bet if you asked her out she’d kiss you right awa—”

“Then if she’s sooo in love with me as you say, shouldn’t she be the one to ask me out then?” Adrien grumbles. “Plus, recently she’s been looking at me more weirdly than lovingly” he adds, making Marinette internally wince. She thought she had been more subtle than that after she and Alya accidentally discovered his identity.

“Oh yeah,” Alya chimes in, “I agree with you that if Ladybug wasn’t such a coward, you wouldn’t have to do all the work and I would certainly not need to—ouch!”

Marinette elbows her in the ribs violently, sending her a glare. “What Alya is trying to say is that maybe Ladybug thinks you don’t love her anymore and doesn’t dare to make a move?”

As she blinks up at Adrien, she realises that it’s something she’s more afraid of than she had thought. He’d said he was planning on giving up, right? What if he already has?

“Which we know isn’t true so there’s nothing for her to worry about,” Alya interrupts her train of thoughts with some pats on her head, stopping her from spiralling any further but also not letting Adrien a chance to confirm or deny her fears.

“As it is,” she carries on, “we don’t have all afternoon and we have a history presentation to work on, so chop chop, let’s come up with the perfect plan for operation: asking Ladybug out.”

Adrien sighs. “You won’t drop it until I ask her out, will you?”

Marinette and Alya both shake their heads.

“Sorry, Kitty-cat, but this one,” Alya points at a stupidly grinning Marinette with her thumb, “is more stubborn than me when she wants to, and that’s saying something.”

“Well,” he relents, “don’t be surprised if next time I see you I whine about how much of a failure my love life is.”

“Better whining to them than to me,” Plagg’s voice quips from behind the giant wheel of camembert on the desk he was dozing on earlier, making the three of them jump at the reminder of his presence.

“And it won’t be a failure,” Marinette says confidently. “I promise.”

─── ·❃· ───

“This is going to be so romantic,” Marinette gushes, rummaging through her drawer.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she can see the kwamis chasing each other, probably engrossed in yet another game of tag-wami.

“He was also very smart. I thought having someone throwing rose petals above us would be good, but he’s right! It would be way less intimate if someone else is here. Oh,” she picks a silver necklace and holds it in front of her, “what do you think of this one, Alya? It would go well with my costume.”

“Marinette, I don’t think—”

“No, you’re right,” she continues, tossing the piece of jewellery in the back of the drawer, “wearing a necklace would make it too obvious that I know something’s going to happen and I have to act surprised.”

“That’s not—”

“I probably shouldn’t go overboard with my makeup, how about… this gloss?” she asks, pulling out a light-pink tube with glitters from another drawer. “Oh! And I need some perfume too! I hope the transformation won’t hide it though. Maybe I can—”

“Marinette!” Alya finally shouts, effectively silencing her overactive best friend. “Listen. I know you’re super excited for it, and I’m reeeeally happy for you, but don’t you think you’re looking at this whole ordeal the wrong way?”

Marinette blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Weeeell,” Alya clasps her hands together, “don’t you think there’s a more...ah...obvious…way for you to get your kiss?”

“...Drawing arrows pointing at my lips on each cheek?”

“Drawing—no!” Alya shakes her head. “I meant confessing yourself to him instead of trying to get him to confess to you, which may I add, the poor boy looked frightened at the prospect of having to try again.”

“But I can’t just do that!” Marinette retorts.

“Why not?”

“Because he—it—he’s... he’s Adrien with cat ears,” she says, as if it explained everything, “how am I supposed to handle that without stumbling over my words?”

Alya’s eyebrows shot high on her forehead as she looks at her. “Seriously,” she breathes.

Marinette nods. Alya drops on the desk chair with a heavy sigh, and slowly shakes her head at her best friend. “Oh, Marinette. What am I going to do with you?”

Marinette just grins at her sheepishly, shrugging.

Alya presses her fingers to her forehead between her eyes. “Remind me why you didn’t reveal your identity to him again?”

That she knows. “Panic. It was definitely panic.”

Panic that she had needed a week to get under control. Discovering that her cat crime-fighting partner was also her very much human drop-dead-gorgeous school crush had that kind of effect on her.

Alya ums, the kind of judgmental hum best friends do when they find their best friends a little stupid. Marinette suspects that Alya finds her a lot stupid, and she’s tempted to agree. She won’t, though, because her pride still wins in this situation, no matter how correct Alya is. “And now,” Alya drawls, “why don’t you reveal your identity to him now?”

“Oh, I will,” she grins. “Once he asked me out and I said yes and we’ve kissed at least sixteen times.”

“But not before?”

Marinette wildly shakes her head. “Not before. I’m insane but I’m not crazy!”

Alya frowns. “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re afraid he’ll be disappointed it’s you and won’t want to ask you out after he knows?”

“Disappointed? Why would I think he’d be disappointed it’s me?” She starts pacing, makes one, two circles, then stops in front of Alya. “We’re friends with and without the mask! If anything, he’s gonna be ecstatic and so smug that we already know each other! He’ll be all sniggering like ‘honhonhon my Lady, I told you so, wasn’t I so smart Bugaboo,’” she says in a weak imitation of Adrien’s voice, using her right hand as a speaker. “And I’ll have to be like ‘oh, of course Chaton, you have such a big brain even if it pains me to admit it to your beautiful kissable face! By the way, you were also right about us being meant for each other, because guess what? Turns out I’ve been in love with you all along! Ha ha ha!’”, her left hand answers the Adrien-hand in a high pitched voice.

Alya giggles, and Marinette wants to laugh with her because this is all ridiculous, except she’s annoyed at imaginary smug Adrien-hand in his cat costume, so she gives her a deadpan look instead. “Well, at least it would have the benefit of you confessing to him.”

Marinette grabs her closest pillow and throws it at her. Alya just catches it with a laugh, not even looking threatened.

“Seriously though,” she says once she’s calmed down, “I think you should reveal first.”

“But then he’ll know I made plans for him to ask me out!” Marinette groans. “I mean, alright. He’ll know I did once I reveal myself but at least we’ll be able to laugh it off together as a joke. But if I reveal first…” her voice drops, shy to her admission. “...He’ll know I’m in love with him before I can make sure he’s still in love with me.”

Alya blinks. “Isn’t he still? Isn’t that what he said?”

Marinette shakes her head, her pigtails slapping her face with the movement. “Before you arrived. He said he wanted to move on. Or needed to. And I can’t—” she takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I can’t lose him.”

“Oh, Marinette,” Alya stands up to hug her. “Believe me, you won’t. You mean the world to him.”

She can only hope that Alya is right.

[emsylcatac]

For project 25 913

Rated G

Thanks @ladyofthenoodle for the tag and your lovely comment about how much I adore Aspik, you shouldn't have 🥰

(sorry in advance for any English mistakes and all, I haven't been beta-ed and I probably didn't re-read this as much as I should have lol, anyway this is messy)

* * * * *

“You know Ladybug, actually I’m also Chat Noir and I’ve loved you ever since our eyes met—”

Left wrist, flick. Rewind. Repeat.

He’s getting so used to it he’s pretty sure he’s gotten a new tic by now that he’ll unconsciously do whenever he’ll mess something up, even in his everyday life.

Adrien takes a deep breath before opening his eyes to meet Ladybug’s enthusiastic ones, a stark contrast with the incredulous expression she harboured seconds before (later? Timeloops is a confusing concept, and his brain is a mess). He’s not quite sure what it meant, and he wonders what she would have said had Desperada not gotten her (again).

Ladybug’s excited voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “You’ll get five minutes before—”

“—before I detransform, I know.” He doesn’t like interrupting her, but while it could seem that endless five minutes loops leave them with all the time in the world, they don’t. Not really. “We’ve been through this before.”

“Oh.” He hates how Ladybug’s enthusiasm drops a little every time he says it. “But,” Ladybug speaks again, her eyes lighting up, “it means you’ve been perfect at saving me! I’m sure we’re going to succeed! We’re gonna make an amazing team!”

He hates even more her renewed hope and optimism every time he lets on that they failed, because he can feel that it’s all vain. Something in the back of his mind tells him they’ll never succeed, has been telling him that for a few loops now but his brain shuts it down each time because he cannot fail her. She chose him, so surely she’s right and he has to keep going. He’s desperate, really, to know there’s no hope but to still try again and again and again — he’s pretty sure by now that he’s more desperate than Desperada herself. Really, Hawkmoth should just desakumatise her to akumatise him instead if he wants to succeed.

“It’s weird that Chat Noir hasn’t come back by now,” Ladybug muses, oblivious to Adrien’s inner turmoil. “But oh, well, I’m sure we don’t need hi—”

“He’s not gonna come,” Adrien interrupts before he can hear the end of that particular sentence again. If they don’t need Chat Noir-him and if they still don’t succeed with Adrien-Aspik-him, then do they really need him at all?

Ladybug blinks. “Why so?”

Before he can think better of it, he answers truthfully: “Because he’s me.”

There. For a short time, he’s bare before her.

Whether it’s despair pushing him to batantly tell her who he is or to satisfy his curiosity, because he still wonders what her expression from the last loop meant, Adrien doesn’t know. But he knows that in less than five minutes from now, she’ll have forgotten all about it anyway.

Ladybug’s eyes are just as incredulous as the last time he said it. “That’s a joke, right?” she nervously says after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

Adrien snorts without humour, and for a split second, he considers telling her it is. “It really isn’t.”

Ladybug stares one, two, five, ten seconds, opens her mouth, closes it, and when it’s apparent that she’ll be stuck in that frozen state for a little while and Adrien can’t really take it anymore, he speaks again.

“I’m Chat Noir, it’s the two-thousand-and-thirteenth time loop, and I still can’t save you.” He passes a hand over his too-smooth and hairless head, regretting that his fingers can’t get stuck in any lock. “We’ve been at it for probably a week now, and did you know that the loops don’t tire you? Because technically I haven’t slept in a week and guess what,” he lets out a sort of delirious laugh, “I’m still not sleepy!”

With that, he gives her two thumbs up. Ladybug is still looking at him like he’s grown a second head, or maybe it’s because he’s just told her he hadn’t slept in a week. He too would look at anyone claiming this with raw disbelief.

He sighs, reaching for his bracelet. “A-anyway, sorry about that and the wasted loop, I don’t know what came over me. So I’ll just…rewind and—”

“No, wait,” she finally snaps out of her stupor, and places her hand on his wrist. “Don’t.”

Adrien stops moving, watching her intently. Ladybug’s hand drops from his wrist and she raises shaky fingers to his cheek instead, to which he can’t help but gasp . She turns his face with the tips of her fingers, as if afraid to touch him, and stares. He keeps on looking right into her eyes, trying to read what’s going on behind them but failing for the first time in their partnership.

“You…you really are Chat Noir?” she finally asks with a breath, like she still doesn’t quite believe it’s him.

“Yeah, it’s me, my Lady.”

Ladybug inhales sharply at the nickname, and drops his face at once to cover her mouth instead.

A glance at his timer indicates that they only have two minutes left now. He should probably rewind. It’s not like he believes that they can beat Desperada in two minutes. But she asked him not to, so he doesn’t.

Ladybug still looks shocked, and he feels his lips contorting in a pained smile in the face of her apparent lack of enthusiasm—he bets that she thinks he’s the worst partner ever if he still can’t save her after two-thousands-and-thirteen times.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably super disappointed that your superhero partner isn’t capable of protecting you,” he shrugs. “You probably hate me now, and honestly I can understan—”

“No!” she shouts. “I don’t love you—I mean! I don’t hate you. You’re bald—Urgh, no not that, forget I said this.” She shyly puts a strand of hair behind her ear, looking to the side. “I’m just…I’m just surprised, is all.”

“Oh.” He can feel his cheeks heating up. She doesn’t hate him! That’s great, right?

“We’ll…we’ll walk later—talk later,” Ladybug says, looking back at him. “After the saddle—after the battle. First we need to defeat Barbapapa!”

He’s surprised Ladybug seems okay with knowing his identity, when she’s always been adamant they keep it a secret, but he’s not about to question it. Maybe her knowing who he is will make it all work. Still, he can’t shake off the feeling that this time will be no different than all the previous loops. That he’ll keep on failing and failing, and he doesn’t know how long he can still last.

“Right. But we haven’t succeeded so far.” He tries not to sound too bitter, but he knows he’s doing a bad job at it.

Ladybug gently grabs his wrist and smiles shyly, making him melt inside and forget about all his worries for an instant. “I’m sure we will. Even if we don’t this time and I forget… You know, I believe in you.”

Adrien is pretty sure his face is burning by now. Ladybug’s eyes widen, and she quickly turns around to hurriedly climb up the scale and poke her head outside.

She believes in him. In all of him. She still thinks he can do it.

So, even as he sees her instantly vanish once again with a sharp heartache, even as his fingers automatically reach for his wrist and he flicks his bracelet again knowing she would forget all about who he is, he feels like he could live through another thousands of time loops if that’s what it takes.

Left wrist, flick. Rewind. Repeat.

So long as he remembers that she believes in him.

[emsylcatac]

A game of pretend

Summary

Marinette was certain that Adrien was Chat Noir. She was also certain that he knew her identity.

Yet, the both of them were acting like they hadn’t connected the dots and were still oblivious to what was now painfully obvious. She didn’t know if it was a game they were playing at or not, but if so, she had no intention of losing.

Which proved itself to be extremely difficult when Chat Noir suggested on patrol one evening that they go gift-shopping for their lovers together.

Read it on AO3

Hiii Moussiiii @cakemousse I was so happy to be your secret Santa for the APS gift exchange ♥︎

You requested established relationship with fluff, so I tried to do just that but with a little twist! Hope you enjoy, and have a merry Christmas! Hope you can spot a mouse-deer this year 😘

A big thanks to Noodles for beta-reading this ♥︎

───※ ·❆· ※───

Marinette was certain Adrien knew her identity.

She could feel it in the way he glanced back at her every so often in class, in the way he oh-so-conveniently took her hand any time there was an akuma attack, just to isolate her from the rest of the class before running away himself, and in the way he would “casually” suggest they end patrol early “in case she had some projects to work on, not that he would know or anything” coincidentally on the days she had mentioned at school that she had a sewing project to finish.

And yes, Marinette also knew his identity. She was fairly certain that he was aware she knew, too. She was, after all, the legendary master of stealth when it came to all things “Adrien” so there was, of course, absolutely every way that he had picked up on it.

Yet, the both of them were acting like they hadn’t connected the dots and were still oblivious to what was now painfully obvious.

After having meticulously studied and counted every heart-shaped glint his eyes contained when he looked at her, she was sure he was still as much in love with her as she was with him (her graph showed an exponential increase every time she came to class pulling off her scooter helmet, she had noticed with no small amount of pride). With that knowledge in mind, she marched up to him one day after class with as much confidence as she could muster. Which, granted, wasn’t a lot, but she was determined to get her cat.

“Adrien,” she had said, so he would be sure she was talking to him, “can I talk to you privately?”

Adrien, with a total of three very large heart-shaped glints in his eyes (she was sure that had they not been as big as they were, they would have been more numerous), had predictably answered: “Yes.”

She had led him to the park in front of the school, miraculously empty that day, and had taken a deep breath, knowing she wouldn’t be able to take another until she had blurted out all she needed to say.

“Adrien, I’ve made the mistake of misjudging you in the past. But I’ve learned to know you, and the more I do, the more I see you. How kind you are, and patient, supportive, and funny. What I’m trying to say is…I love you, would you like to go out with me?”

Adrien had, with tears and disbelief in his eyes, said yes, and hugged her, and thanked her for loving him, and told her he loved her too. Maybe she was crying a little too by that point. She definitely passed out when they clumsily kissed right after, but in her defense, he did too.

Anyway. Suffice to say, they’ve been dating ever since.

And neither of them had slipped up regarding their identities: a miracle in itself, considering how clumsy she knew she was. Marinette was sometimes tempted to say something, but she always caught herself: she didn’t know if it was a game they were playing at or not, but if so, she had no intention of losing.

Which proved itself to be ridiculously difficult when she met up with Chat Noir for patrol that evening.

Because if the whole situation they had put themselves in wasn’t stupid enough, Chat Noir made it

“Hey, Ladybug! So you know, Christmas is almost here, and I was wondering—”

insanely

“—if you could help me pick—”

more

“—the perfect gift for my girlfriend?”

stupid.

He looked at her with that nervous little smile of his, fidgeting with his ring, and it took all of her willpower to not jump on him and kiss him silly until he couldn’t breath or open his idiot mouth to talk. She would probably hate that her first thought at witnessing him display his total count of zero brain cells in action was to want to kiss him even more, if she wasn’t so lovestruck over the fact that he wanted to give her a gift for Christmas.

“You…you want to offer your g-girlfriend a present for Christmas?” she dumbly asked, half breathless.

He shyly nodded, pink dusting his cheeks lovingly as he nibbled at his lower lip—and oh, how she regretted their game of pretend, preventing her from kissing her boyfriend while he harboured adorable cat ears!

“Yes,” he said, so small, as heart-shaped glints filled his eyes once more, “and I want to make sure she’ll love it.”

Marinette couldn't have kept in the giddy giggle that escaped her even if she had tried. She was Chat Noir’s girlfriend! Adrien’s girlfriend! And he wanted the perfect present for her! Her!

It was in times like these that she felt beyond lucky and happy that Adrien and Chat Noir turned out to be one and the same. Sometimes, in moments of self-doubt, she wondered if she was right that they were indeed the same person—after all, she never really had a solid proof, nor had she ever witnessed them transform into each other—but she quickly quashed these doubts. It was too awful to think about, and anyway, things were too obvious now.

“You know,” she tried to sound nonchalant, “it’s funny that you should mention it.”

His ears perked up. “Oh?”

She mimicked inspecting her gloved nails. “Hmhm. You see, I’d like to find the perfect gift for my boyfriend too.”

She glanced discreetly in his direction to see his eyes widening and his cheeks rapidly turning red. She smirked a little at the sight.

“O-oh, y-you want to give your boyfriend something, my Lady? I mean…” he coughed, “you have a boyfriend? I didn’t know about that at all,” he said, feigning complete surprise, though to his credit, she could tell he really tried to sound genuine.

…To think that she used to gush about how good of an actor Adrien was. Despicable.

“I do! He’s that boy I’m in love with that I had told you about,” she turned to him with a wide grin—one that instantly melted into an adoring smile at the way his mouth parted in genuine surprise and soft wonder.

“Really?” he breathed.

She nodded, and once again had to stop herself from kissing him right then and there, when one of the happiest smiles she’d ever seen on him appeared on his face.

“And I was thinking,” Marinette went on, conscious that she was about to dig even deeper into the sheer ridiculousness they were in, “if you need to find a gift for your girlfriend, and I need a gift for my boyfriend, maybe we could…go gift-shopping for them together?”

His reaction was instantaneous. He straightened up, and rapidly clapped his hands together, letting out an excited gasp.

“Yes! My Lady, that’s such a good idea! Let’s do that!”

Laughing, she ruffled his hair affectionately, making him giggle. “Alright Chaton, operation: find our lovers the best present is a go!”

Chat Noir whooped loudly, the sound echoing in the cold December night.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Urgh,” Alya sighed, slumping on her desk, “It’s the 10th of December and I still have no idea what I’m gonna get Nino for Christmas.”

Marinette patted her back empathetically. “He didn’t tell you what he wanted?”

“No,” Alya groaned. “He said ‘surprise me! I’ll love whatever you’ll give me!’,” she said in a bad impression of Nino’s voice, “as if that helps at all! Why is it so hard to find a gift for a boy?”

Marinette giggled. “I’m sure you’ll think of something!”

“I hope. By the way, do you know what you’ll give to your Adrien?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, I—”

“Marinette is going to give me something?” Adrien’s fake-awed voice interrupted, startling her.

She looked up to see him standing in front of his desk, Nino by his side, looking at her with what was definitely not an innocent smile. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at his terrible subtlety.

“Well, yes,” Alya said, “for Christmas! We’re brainstorming ideas, so don’t you dare to try to listen in!”

Adrien threw his hands up. “I wouldn’t dare! It wouldn’t be a surprise otherwise,” he said, glancing at Marinette with another yet very unconvincing angelic smile. “I had no idea you wanted to give me a gift for Christmas, Marinette, that’s so kind of you!”

…She was going to hang him up from the Eiffel Tower with her yo-yo.

Trying her best impression of an innocent smile herself, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Of course, only the best for you, Adrien!”

He grinned. “Why, thank you! I’ll have a gift for you too, you know!”

“Oooooh,” she fake-gasped, “I had absolutely no idea either that you had planned on giving me a gift too! That’s so kind of you,” she repeated his earlier words. “What is it gonna be?”

“He’s not going to tell you, you know,” Nino said, looping an arm around Adrien. “So stop snooping around!”

Marinette chuckled. Oh no, he won’t tell her alright.

Adrien climbed the stairs to her desk and kissed her forehead. “Only the best for you, Marinette,” he winked.

She’ll just help him pick her own gift from him, that’s all.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Isn’t there, like, a map of the different shops and where to find them?” Chat Noir asked, squinting at the sign in front of them.

They had decided to wait for the weekend to go on their gift-shopping trip, an idea Marinette now realised was terrible—she should have known that Les Halles, on a Saturday afternoon less than two weeks before Christmas, were bound to be overcrowded. And moving through the different shops proved itself to be extremely difficult when they were both in costume, attracting attention with each step they took.

“This is the map,” Marinette informed as Chat Noir frowned harder.

“I meant a clear map, where we actually understand where we have to go and how everything is orientated.”

“That’s all there is,” she replied, and he turned to her with a distraught expression.

“This is Les Halles,” she shrugged, “getting lost is part of the experience!”

Chat Noir let his head slump on her shoulder with a groan. She scratched between his cat ears sympathetically, amused.

“Stop with that long face, at least we didn’t have to take the metro or find where the entrance is! This isn’t too bad in comparison.”

“If hell exists,” he grumbled, “this is what it looks like.”

Marinette burst out laughing.

“Well.” He straightened up, and she immediately missed the feeling of his hair tickling her cheek, “let’s wander around and get lost then, Buguinette,” he said with renewed enthusiasm.

He turned around and started to walk in a random direction, and she trotted up to him to link her arm with his. Just because they were pretending they had no idea about each other’s identity didn’t mean she would pass up on an opportunity to be close to him.

And anyway, it wasn’t uncommon for friends to hook arms together. At least, it had never been for Ladybug and Chat Noir.

They tried to go into some clothing boutiques or knick-knacks shops, weaving their way in and out of the crowd, answering a few people who wanted to take selfies with their city heroes, reassuring others that no, there wasn’t an akuma, they were just shopping, and politely declining vendors who wanted to offer them this or that for free. Which, in the end, made it more difficult than anything to stop to look at items to find their perfect gift.

After a good half an hour of running in circles as they kept on getting disoriented, they haphazardly ended up in front of Sephora.

“Should we have a look in there?” Marinette asked.

Chat Noir shrugged. “Why not? We’re here to find ideas and gifts after all!”

They stepped in…

…only to find themselves in front of an “Adrien the Fragrance” stall, hardly missable thanks to the huge poster of a laughing Adrien jumping in the air with a bunch of hypoallergenic feathers.

They stared dumbly at it for a while, Marinette transfixed by the way Adrien’s golden hair was waving in the wind and shining in the sun, Chat Noir….well, Chat Noir probably not transfixed by his own face, she supposed.

“O-oh,” he said after a minute of silence, “I had never ever heard about that fragrance before, funny that it seems popular here!”

Marinette hugged his arm tighter so she wouldn’t cave to the urge of bonking his head with her yo-yo.

“Oh, really,” she drawled sarcastically, “the first time? You must have missed all the billboards.”

He had the audacity to grin at her. “I wonder what it smells like,” he wondered excitedly.

She forced herself to not blurt out “it smells like you, doofus”. Clearly, he was hoping to make her slip-up by teasing her with his identity in the most infuriating way.

But she wouldn’t. Marinette was smarter than that. He might be succeeding at infuriating her, but there was no way she was gonna be the first to cave.

Chat Noir picked up the tester and a perfume strip then sprayed it with his fragrance. He shook it exaggeratedly, all the while looking at her with that shit-eating grin of his —that she just wanted to kiss off his face. Slowly, unnecessarily slowly, he brought the strip to his nose, looking way too proud of his little number, closed his eyes, and loudly inhaled the perfume.

She watched him with arms crossed and a raised brow, waiting for the next stupid thing to come out of his stupid mouth, whatever that would be.

“Wow,” he breathed in fake awe, opening his eyes and staring right through hers, “radiant. I suddenly feel so carefree with this smell coursing through my delicate nostrils, I even feel—hey!”

Marinette snatched the perfume strip from his hands and brought it to her nose, inhaling the scent herself despite knowing it by heart.

Not leaving her eyes from his, she let out the most satisfied sigh she could muster. “Impossibly dreamy,” she said, aiming for sultry.

For an instant, she could appreciate his composure slightly dropping, the bright red blush colouring his unsuspecting cheeks, and she sent a smirk his way to finish him.

Go on, she thought. Try me.

He squinted at her, licked his lips, and snatched the strip back from her hands, bringing it to his nose once more.

“Dreamy is right,” he spoke, still smelling it. “You know,” he wiggled the strip in front of her nose, as well as his eyebrows, “if you like the scent of that fragrance so much, you should gift it to your boyfriend. So you’ll get to smell some of this intoxicating—” he paused to inhale the air dramatically, before speaking again in a just as dramatic sigh “—Adrien on him.”

Forget all about hanging him from the Eiffel Tower with her yo-yo. She was dumping him in the Seine. He really—he was—he…

Stupid.

He was looking at her smugly, challenging her reaction to that. To him just…suggesting she buy his own fragrance for himself.

“Unless he doesn’t like that Adrien Agastere guy,” he added with a very big and very fake pout as she stayed silent, biting on her inside-cheek so hard she tasted iron.

He was good at this game. He was really, infuriatingly good at this game.

But two could play it.

And if anything, Marinette considered herself a fairly good player when it came to teasing and annoying Chat Noir.

“For your information,” she declared, “his name isn’t Adrien Agastere but Adrien Agreste—”

“Ooooh, a fan and connoisseur I see!”

“—aaand,” she stole the perfume strip from his hands to swat him with it for that comment, “now that you’re suggesting it, that’s actually a great idea, thank you Chat Noir!” She smirked. She put the strip in the wasted-strips-place and grabbed an Adrien fragrance from the stall. “I’m going to do exactly that and offer this fragrance to my boyfriend for Christmas—”

“Wait—”

“—I’m sure he’ll be thrilled!” Marinette’s grin widened as Chat Noir’s dropped.

“Ladybug no—”

“After all,” she went on, “he’s a big fan of Adrien Agreste himself—”

“No he’s not, he hates him!”

“—and he just so happens to not own a single bottle of his fragrance!”

“Ladybuuuuuug,” he whined.

“I’m sure this will be the greatest and most perfect gift for him! And the only thing I'll give him too, of course.”

“My Laadyyy, I take it back, this is a terrible idea—” He tried to grab the new bottle from her hands, so she put it behind her back, grinning widely at the scowl he gave her in return.

She loved it when he called her his Lady. It was Adrien calling her that, and because of their stubborn refusal to admit they were well aware of who was behind the mask, he didn’t use her favourite nickname when they were civilians. A shame, really, so she had to enjoy it when he did as heroes.

And, just because she could, and because his pout was stupidly endearing, she grabbed the tester again and sprayed him with it.

“Hey, what are you—” he gasped, and put a hand in front of him.

She sprayed him again.

“Lady—”

Spray.

“Wait—”

Spray.

“STOP—”

Sprayed again.

He let out a frustrated groan, coughed three times, and grabbed another tester from the stall so he could spray her back.

Soon, both Parisian superheroes were engaged in a perfume spray battle, giggling and screaming, for all the customers to see, yet all the customers forgotten.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!”

They stopped their childish game dead in their tracks to look at the source of the voice calling out to them. Marinette prayed they weren’t about to get scolded for disturbance.

A small vendor, with brown hair and round glasses, was looking at them with a sweet smile.

“If you like this fragrance so much, it would be our pleasure to offer one for each of you!” she said enthusiastically.

“Oh, errr…” Chat Noir said after a few seconds of stunned silence. “That’s very kind of you, thank you, but really we don’t need—”

The vendor, whose name Marinette noticed on her tag was Céline, grabbed two small bottles from the stall and handed it to them.

“Here you are. I’m sure the Gabriel Agreste brand would be very proud and pleased to know their products were appreciated and gratuitously offered to our Paris heroes!”

Marinette dumbly accepted the gift, followed by Chat Noir.

“Thanks,” she answered. “That’s, uh…really kind. We love it!”

Chat Noir laughed nervously next to her. “Yeeeaaah I’ve never ever gotten any Gabriel merch before today, truly a gift, thanks!”

Céline beamed, looking really pleased with the effect her gesture had on them.

If only she knew.

“Weeeell,” Chat Noir drawled when the silence stretching became too long for comfort, “I think we will…go…because we have a lot of things to do!”

Marinette nodded rapidly. “Yes, lots of things. Lots of very heroic things, super serious, super secret!”

“Top-secret,” Chat Noir repeated. “So bye bye everyone, meowrry Catmas, and thank you for having us here! Stay miraculous!” he waved at the people around, then grabbed her hand and fled out of the store.

They both yoyo-ed and baton-ed away from Les Halles, their fragrance in hand, and only stopped their run on a rooftop when they were a few blocks away, hidden from the prying crowd on a roof.

“Soooo,” Chat Noir grinned sheepishly at her after they managed to catch their breath. “Know a thing or two about knitting? Maybe we should just knit them something, like a winter hat.”

She nodded. “That’s…that’s not a bad idea. I do actually. You?”

“I can make very cool pompoms?” he offered.

“Awesome! I’ll teach you the rest as we go! Tomorrow evening?”

“Awesome! Well, partner,” he patted her shoulder, as if she was his very-good-best-bud, which in a way, right now she was, but it was ridiculous, “good job!”

“Yes,” she patted his shoulder back, so they were both awkwardly patting each other’s shoulder in a synchronised rhythm, “good job partner! Good win, too,” she raised her bottle of fragrance, “we make an awesome team!”

“Oh, yes,” he replied, still patting, “good job winning this magnificent fragrance with such a hottie on it!”

She nodded, not even able to contradict him. “Yes, hot. Very hot stuff, good guy, good smell.”

Chat Noir made a face. “Too much smell maybe.”

“Never too much,” she replied. A gust of wind flew through her hair, making all the scent from their earlier spray battle fly right to her nose. “Alright, a bit too much.”

They looked into each other’s eyes while still patting each other’s shoulders for a solid fifteen seconds after that.

Until Marinette couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well, see you tomorrow night, then! Bug out!”

Once she got home, she promptly bursted out laughing, and couldn’t stop for ten minutes straight.

Adrien could be an idiot about this whole ordeal sometimes, alright, but she loved him all the more for it.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Sunday early afternoon had Adrien over at her house. Whether his father was aware or whether it was only a cats’ secret, Marinette couldn’t tell for sure, but she was thankful either way.

For Adrien was laying half asleep in her lap, and she could admire him all she pleased.

Run a hand through his hair all she liked. Trace his nose and cheeks all she wanted. Caress his lips all she dared.

Sometimes, she took two strands of hair with each hand and shaped them so they looked like cat ears on top of his head.

That made her giggle.

Because it reminded her that Chat Noir was asleep in her lap, in her room, sharing a part of her civilian life more than ever before now. She hadn’t realised how much she had craved it until he suddenly was much more present in her life.

She picked one of his hands next, inspecting his fingers and nails. Unsurprisingly, they weren’t clawed, yet she still found herself surprised. His nails were quite short, actually. She guessed it had to do with him playing the piano.

She let her index run alongside each of his fingers, barely touching him. It was nice to be able to feel Chat Noir’s fingers and skin. She decided kissing them would be nice too, so she brought his hand to her lips, and delicately pressed his fingertips to them.

Adrien opened his eyes at the contact, breaking the ephemeral magic his sleeping state had created, but casting another spell with the intensity of the green of his eyes.

“Marinette,” he whispered, caressing her cheek with the back of the hand she had just kissed. “What’s my Christmas gift gonna be?”

She chuckled. Of course he would push for information he already had. “Nothing for the curious ones.”

“I’m not curious,” he said. “Just invested.”

She hummed. “Sure. And investment killed the cat.”

“Well,” Adrien smiled at her and brought one of her hands to his lips, giving her fingertips a feather-light kiss. “Good thing I’m not a cat, then.”

“Too bad,” Marinette murmured, cuping his cheeks and bending down towards him. “I’m positive you would have made a really cute kitty.”

And before he could answer, she pecked his lips, in a somewhat upside-down kiss.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Where did you learn to make pompoms, Chaton?”

“I told you I could make great pompoms!” Chat Noir beamed, coiling the pale pink wool around his holed piece of cardboard. “It’s my mum who taught me to occupy myself when I had nothing to do. But she didn’t teach me how to knit,” he shrugged.

“That must have been fun,” she commented. “And now, I’m here to teach you how to knit.”

He nodded, smiling, still focused on his work. “What do you think? Should I put a pompom on top of the hat? Two pompoms? Three pompoms? Four—”

She laughed. “I think I have a better idea.”

Chat Noir looped up to her, listening. “A better idea than fluffy pompoms?”

“Yes. If I were your girlfriend, which I’m obviously not—”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously, right. So if I were her, I would love to have a winter hat with cat ears on top. So…so it would feel like I have a part of who you are on me when I wear it.”

She bit her lips, shy to her admission. Chat Noir’s lips were parted in an ‘o’ shape, and blush was dusting his cheeks as he watched her with that look of wonder of his that made her heart beat all over the place.

“S-so yeah, um. I think cat ears would be sweet.” She put a strand of hair behind her ear.

“O-okay. Yes. Good. I’ll…I’ll do that, then.”

“Awesome,” she breathed. “Um, do you…know which colour I should pick for my boyfriend? Not that you have the same taste or anything but…”

Chat Noir sent her a look full of softness and love, and he really had to stop doing that if she wanted to keep up their act. “A colour matching a scarf he has, maybe. In case he…you know…already has a scarf that you made him…”

She gasped. How…he…did he—how did he know? Since when?

“...not that he might or anything but…He’d probably be glad that you got him a matching hat. A-and he’d be glad to get it from you directly, too.”

She felt a little too stunned for words. “Okay,” she managed to let out after a few seconds. “He…he has a blue scarf.”

“...One that you made him, right?” Chat Noir said quietly.

She opted to nod instead of talking, and grabbed the blue sky ball of yarn.

“He’s lucky, you know,” he murmured. “That you care this much about him and take so much time for him. He’s very lucky to have you.”

Her heart melted at his declaration. She carefully brought a hand to his hair, and delicately pulled a strand behind his human ear. His eyes were so full of heart-shaped glints, harmoniously mixing with the city light reflections, that she couldn’t even count them.

“That’s because I’m even luckier to have him.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

Marinette speed-ran through the bakery, barely throwing a “see you later” to her parents as she swung the door open and sprinted to the park. She was with all odds late to her date with Adrien.

Their Christmas gifts exchange date, that they had meticulously planned for over a week to be on the twenty-fourth afternoon.

And she was late. Disappointing, but not surprising, she internally groaned.

She spotted Adrien, who was waiting for her on a bench, a long, dark grey coat elongating his silhouette. As she neared him, she noticed he had his blue scarf wrapped around his neck, which her heart did a somersault at.

He stood up when he saw her, grinning, and quickly glanced at his phone.

“Aaaaand sixteen minutes and thirty-two seconds!” he announced, all proud. “Not so bad, myyyyy—rinette!”

She decided to ignore the slip up  in favour of glaring up at him, trying to catch her breath. “You—didn’t just—time me again,” she groaned between two intake of breath.

He just smiled. “Of course I did, I need to let you know when you break your record! And alas,” he went on dramatically, “today, on Christmas’ eve day, I regret to inform you that…you failed.”

She wished this year would have finally granted them snow for Christmas, just so she could throw a snowball at him. Unfortunately, as it’s always been in Paris this time of year ever since she was born, there wasn’t a single flake in sight. Instead, a bright blue sky greeted them, the winter sun leaving a soft orange-kind of light on the trees and houses.

And on Adrien’s cheeks and hair, which was where the light looked the most beautiful, in Marinette’s fairly unbiased opinion.

“But,” he brightened up before she had a chance to plot a plan involving something other than snowballs, “considering our rendez-vous was right in front of your house, maybe you can get points for it!”

She clicked her tongue. “You know what, I had brought chouquettes and chocolate and passion fruit flavoured mini-bûches de Noël from the bakery to share together,” and now she could enjoy the way his face crumpled as understanding washed over him, “but if you’re going to be like that, I’ll share them with myself only.”

“That-that’s not really Christmas-friendly, Marinette!”

“Making fun of me isn’t really Christmas-friendly either, Adrien,” she remarked.

“In my defense,” he mimicked handing her and opening the bag he had in his hands, “I have gifts for you?”

And just like that, all the bantering mood they were in evaporated. Just like that, as she peaked into the bag containing all the secrets they hadn’t dared to admit out loud yet, a shy yet exciting trepidation started coursing through her veins, from her feet to her hands to her head.

Because this would officially be the end of their game of pretend. There would be no way to not acknowledge who they were, no reason to lie or run away from the truth. In a way, Marinette felt a little terrified. But when she gazed into Adrien’s eyes, with that orange winter light reflecting in them and making them shine all the more, she could see the same nervousness she felt dancing through them. The same excitement, the same apprehension, the same joy, the same doubts, the same love.

And strangely, this weird mix of feelings they were sharing in that moment morphed into a blanket of calmness and comfort.

They were in this together, and they were there for each other, no matter what happened. Just like they’ve always been. And more than ever before, she was ready to take this next step with him.

So Marinette smiled, wide, and opened her bag to him as well—herself, her heart, her soul to him, really.

“I have something for you, too," she said shyly.

She wondered if the sunlight was dancing in her eyes as much as it was dancing in his. It shouldn't, she rationalised, he was the one facing the sun—but she was the one facing him, so it had to count for something.

"O-oh, I wonder what it is," he chuckled nervously, and she smiled at him still taking that last opportunity to tease her with the absurdity of it all.

"Why don't you open it and find out then?"

Their eyes met as they exchanged each other's bag, silent words exchanged between them. Marinette pulled out his gift for her, his identity, carefully wrapped in pink paper, surrounded by red ribbon.

"On the count of three?" Adrien asked, her green gift in his shaky hands.

She nodded. "On the count of three."

"One," he whispered.

"Two," she answered.

"Three,'' they breathed in one voice.

Finally, here she was. Unwrapping his heart as delicately as she could. She was careful to not tear the paper, to untie the ribbon's knot with her cold trembling fingers. It was obvious he'd made the package himself, so she would hate it if she were to damage it, even if gift paper was just made for that: come undone to reveal the secret it hid.

And here it was, the secret, uncovered by her hands: the winter hat Chat Noir made with her and for her.

A choked giggle escaped her. She knew what it was gonna be. But she had the proof now, between her hands, and it made her feel light, light, light. She hadn't realised how much of a weight it had put upon her until now.

She raised her eyes to meet Adrien's full of joyful tears—and used her newfound lightness to run into his arms and hold him tight.

"I...I knew," he said, his voice hoarse. "I knew what it was gonna be, but..."

"But it's still all crazy, right?" she continued for him, voice just as raw.

She felt him nod in her shoulder. “It’s wonderful,” he whispered.

“You’re wonderful,” she told him in a mix between a giggle and a sob, and oh, so she was crying too.

Reluctantly, they distangled. She put her winter hat on, her beautiful light pink and grey cat-eared winter hat on, and decided it was her favourite. She took the one she’d made him from his hands, and gently put it on top of his head, before grabbing his cheeks as to not let him stray too far away from her. She caressed them, his cheeks warm against her cold fingers, and maybe she should worry that she was cooling them, but Adrien is smiling too brightly for that.

“So, um…Hi, Chat Noir.” Why was her voice still trembling?

He let out a breathless chuckle. “Hi, Ladybug.”

She couldn’t help but hop up and down at hearing him call her by her hero name, wiggling in place, uncontrollable giggles spilling out from her lips. Adrien’s eyes grew softer by the second, and she didn’t know how long she could handle that loving gaze without kissing him. So she decided to put an end to her misery and did just that.

He responded in kind, hugging her to him and making her feel so warm. She felt like she could stay in the cold of December forever as long as she was in his embrace—and as long as his lips were covering hers.

Her partner. Her best friend. Her Chat Noir.

“I love you, Chaton,” she whispered against his lips when they parted. “I love you so much.”

Their faces were so close that she felt more than saw a smile draw at his lips.

He pecked her once. “I love you, my Lady. You’re incredible.”

She shivered at the nickname. Finally, she could hear it without the mask, too.

“So, what do you say,” she murmured, their lips brushing tantalisingly with how close they still were, “we both won that game of pretend?”

He laughed. “I think we can agree that there’s no losers, indeed.”

She grinned, and she was pretty sure she must have looked like a lovesick fool, but Adrien did too, so they were sharing the shame. “By the way,” she added, “there’s another gift for you in the bag.”

“Funny,” he teased, “there’s another gift for you in my bag too.”

Of course there was. Of course they probably had the same brilliantly stupid idea.

They broke apart to pull out the same rectangular-shaped gift from their bag.

“It’s the fragrance, isn’t it?” they both said in unison, because what else would it be, and burst out in a fit of giggles.

Once they calmed down, Marinette was about to dive in for another kiss when—

“Marinette?” a small, sugary-sweet voice interrupted. “If you’re done…maybe we could try some of that deeeelicious smelling bûche de Noël?”

Marinette bit her tongue in annoyance. Trust Tikki to keep her from making out with Adrien for food.

“Ignore her,” she told Adrien.

And she closed the gap between them and lost herself in his kisses till the first Christmas lights lit up the city.

[emsylcatac]

ask her (me) out · chapt. 2

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Gift exchange for @ladyofthenoodle ♥︎ thanks again Lisa for beta-reading!

Read it on AO3

─── ·❃· ───

There are many things Adrien hates: the smell of camembert, feathers, being stuck in a room with no way out, missing out on a pun opportunity, or being forbidden to see his friends. But if there’s one thing Adrien really, really hates, it’s disappointing people. On the top of the list of people he hates to disappoint are: Ladybug, his friends (especially Nino, and Marinette, and Alya too), and of course, his father.

Which makes his current predicament all the more stressful. He can carry on with Marinette’s plan and ask Ladybug out—which would have the benefit of making Marinette and Alya happy, but the terrible drawback of risking to disappoint Ladybug. Or, he can abort mission right now and avoid being thrown in a dumpster (and considering he just took a shower, that prospect is not at all enviable), but be sure to disappoint Marinette and possibly Alya.

He pulls at his cat ears with a dignified “gnnnn”, and resumes pacing on the roof in a circle. Whatever decision he takes, he’ll end up disappointing someone. Which, as he just mentioned above, is something he hates.

Reluctantly, he pulls out of his pocket the paper on which he and the girls wrote the “asking Ladybug out” plan.

“Hi Ladybug. Hi Ladybug, hi Ladybug, hi Ladybug.”

He lets out a loud sigh. Great. Ladybug will surely be super seduced by the way he says ‘hi’ to her, won’t she?

“Alright,” he mutters, turning around to face the street. “Starting again.”

Adrien closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns back around, a huge grin stretched on his lips.

“Hiii Ladybug,” he says as enthusiastically as he can muster, “Wow, would you look at that boat over there, maybe we could get on it and—my god, how does Marinette make it sound natural,” he groans, slumping on the roof.

A car honks further down the street. Another answers it, followed by yet another, and soon the sounds of the street are drowned out by a mess of angry honks. Sums up the way his brain is screaming, alright.

He spares a glare to the cacophony, and looks back at the scribbled script, with all the tone indicators he’s supposed to use that Marinette had annotated in different colours.

“You’ve got to make sure to lead the patrol to the river boat cruise departure,” Marinette had said, pulling a detailed board out of nowhere.

“Then,” she had pointed to a doodle of Chat Noir with fluttering eyelashes, “you have to say, while acting very surprised: ‘Oooh Ladybug! Would you look at that boat over there! Maybe we could get on it and finish patrol by floating down the Seine!’”

“And,” she had then pointed to a doodled, happy Ladybug with a light bulb and a heart above her head, “Ladybug will say: ‘Oh Chat Noir! What a great and innovative idea! Let’s get on that boat!’”

That’s when Adrien had asked: “How can you be sure Ladybug will say that and not think it’s a stupid idea?”

“Trust us,” Alya had waved a hand. “Ladybug will say exactly just that,” to which Marinette had vigorously nodded.

“And then,” Marinette had gone on, pointing this time to a doodle of a waiter on the boat and a pleasantly surprised-looking Ladybug and Chat Noir, “a waiter will see you both come in and invite you to dine at the boat’s restaurant as he’ll feel very honoured to serve the Ladybug and Chat Noir. He’ll put a rose in a vase on the table, and you’ll share a sumptuous dinner one-on-one with Ladybug, gazing into each other’s eyes, feeling the growing love between you and—”

Adrien had had to stop her. “Wouldn’t that kind of count as tricking her into going on a date with me, though?”

“That’s why you gotta act natural, as if all of this was a total coincidence you hadn’t planned at all,” Marinette had said.

As a professional failed coincidental-not-coincidental-dates organiser with Ladybug, he hadn’t been convinced in the slightest.

“Ladybug hates when she feels like she’s been tricked into a date,” he had pointed out.

“But girls love impromptu boat not-dates,” Alya had said, her face clearly telling him to not question the plan and to just go with it.

“Especially Ladybug,” Marinette had added, and Adrien really hadn’t known how she could be this confident of Ladybug’s tastes.

Adrien is then supposed to ask Ladybug out at the end of the boat dinner (tone indicator, in pink: lovesick), because according to Marinette and Alya, Ladybug is going to be soooo smitten with him by then that she will say ‘yes’ right away. He would honestly be less surprised if his father were to announce tonight that they would be going on a father and son bonding weekend to fly a kite by the sea.

A sudden movement at the corner of his eyes startles him out of his thoughts. It’s Ladybug, jumping from building to building, and sure enough, a quick glance at his baton-watch indicates that there are still ten minutes left before patrol. She’s unusually early for once.

Then again, her behavior has been unusual lately. Startling when he puts a hand on her shoulder, when it used to calm her down. Blanking out on a witty reply when he teases her. Stuttering when he appreciates and compliments her battle skills, when she used to reply with a proud and cocky “why, thank you, Chaton”. Laughing too loud to be honest.

He still isn’t sure what changed or what he did wrong—because it has to be something he’s done, hasn’t it?—, and it does nothing to calm his nerves. He did tell her that two of his friends found out about his identity by accident, but she hadn’t seemed angry about it.

Silencing this train of thought before he starts spiralling too much, he glares at his paper one last time, shoves it back in his pocket, and goes after her.

She comes to a stop on the roof they’d agreed to meet on and looks around, using her hand as a visor. It’s very cute that she’s looking for him.

He chuckles to himself. If he’s stealthy enough, he might be able to scare her, which might help ease up the knots that have formed in his stomach.

She’s still looking for him in the wrong direction when he lands on the roof behind her. He takes one step forward, a second, a third, and…

“BOO!”

It has the expected effect. Ladybug screeches and whirls around, and the only thing that lets him escape being sent flying to splat against the nearest building like a fly on a window by her windmilling arms is the fact that he’s spooked her like this so many times before.

“Aaaaaaaadddd—Chat Noir!” Her eyes widen. “A Chat Noir ad!”

His proud, smug smile slips from his face and is replaced with confusion. “A...Chat Noir...ad…?”

Ladybug finger-guns. “Yeah, you know, like the big posters we see in the metro but with your face on it?”

He feels his brows going higher up on their own accord.

“Not that your face is on any of them! Not right now, not ever! I mean, why would it be, right? So weird,” she adds, a panicked edge to her voice. “But I just thought, ‘oh wouldn’t it be so funny to see an animal shelter ad featuring Chat Noir on it for cat adoptions?’ because I’m sure people would be way less inclined to abandon all these poor little baby kittens if they saw your cute kitty face on ads—not that your face is cute or anything! And not that it’s not cute, it’s...it’s... a normalamount of cute.”

He...supposes it’s a compliment. “Thanks?”

And because he doesn’t know what else to add, and because Ladybug’s smile and finger-guns are still awkwardly frozen in place and he has no idea how to break the weird tension, Adrien finger-guns back at her and says: “Your face is a normal amount of cute too!”

“You think so?” she whispers in awe, a furious blush making its way on her cheeks.

He blinks, because really, what he just told her isn’t blush or amazement-worthy. Yet, amongst all the thoughtful and —in his humble opinion— clever lines he’s ever told Ladybug, that’s what somehow does the trick. It’s almost disappointing, but it has the advantage of making him seem suave instead of cringe in Ladybug’s eyes. Or at least he hopes that’s how she’s seeing him right now.

Not trusting his words, he simply nods with a small smile, to which a light giggle escapes Ladybug’s mouth as she bounces up and down in place.

Adrien owns (and has read and reread) a lot of romance novels and shōjo manga, but none of them have prepared him for this reaction, and he’s not quite sure how to interpret it. What he’s sure of, however, is that it’s an adorable reaction. She looks so happy and cute (and more than a normal amount, unlike what he’s told her), and it reaffirms his earlier feelings about asking her out.

He can’t do it.

He can’t put their friendship into jeopardy with renewed declarations of love. She’s too important to him for that. She knows how he feels, has known for a long time, and, most importantly, he knows how she feels about having to hear a confession again. They’ve been over it before, and being pushy after assuring her he would respect her wishes is the last thing he wants to be.

With a small shake of his head, he closes his eyes and silently apologises to Marinette and Alya. He’d rather risk disappointing them on something that concerns only his partner and himself, than disappoint Ladybug and be disappointed in himself for it.

“S-so,” he says, reopening his eyes and pointing to some buildings behind him with his thumb, “shall we...start patrolling? We could start by heading towards Montmartre?”

Far away from la Seine and any potential boats.

Ladybug nods. “Yes sure, let’s—wait. Montmartre?” She frowns. “But that wasn’t the plan—Iiiiiiiii mean, the patrol route!”

“Well, we’re improvising tonight, so chop chop, cat-ch me if you can, my Lady!”

Adrien doesn’t wait for her reply. He propels himself on his baton in Montmartre’s direction—it’s a miracle he can soar through the city at all with how heavy his heart feels in his chest.

He wishes he could be as confident as Marinette seemed to be about Ladybug’s supposed feelings for him. As it is, if they have magically changed, he’d rather wait for her to make the first move and follow her lead.

Just like he always does.

─── ·❃· ───

Adrien still hasn’t asked her out. Marinette is… not panicking. At all.

Why would she? It’s not like it’s the end of patrol yet. Maybe he’s planned on being a serious dutiful hero first, and a seductive boyfriend second. It’s the responsible thing, the right thing to do, after all, but for tonight she’d wish he’d be a little less like her and a little more like him.

But again: it’s not the end of patrol. There’s absolutely no need to worry. Which she isn’t! Not at all! It would be silly. She’s perfectly calm and confident.

Any time now, he’ll head towards the Seine. Any time now, he’ll take a turn, check where the water is, and find a boat. Any time now, he’ll casually suggest that they end patrol on said boat.

Any time. Now.

Adrien comes to a stop, and her heart stutters with it. He looks around him, before turning towards her and—this is it. The moment she’s been waiting for all night. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest that she’s afraid the sound will drown out his voice; so she puts a hand on it, hoping to calm it down, as to better hear his next words when he’ll finally ask her ou—

“Soooo I…guess we’re done for tonight, what do you say?”

—no?

“No,” is what Marinette says, a little abruptly.

Adrien blinks, his cat eyes wide in confusion. He shouldn’t be confused! He should remember that it’s not supposed to end like that. Why has he forgotten? “No?” He dares to repeat.

“I’m not sure we’re quite done with patrol just yet,” she explains.

He chuckles, but in a way she’s now learned to identify as uncomfortable. “Why not? We’ve been at it for an hour, and we can’t exactly patrol the whole city in one evening. We have work to do, places to be, dinner to eat, all of that…” he ticks items off his fingers as he speaks.

She purses her lips. Maybe, just maybe, he’s as nervous as she is and he forgot about the plan. Marinette would understand completely. After all, in all her carefully planned grand schemes to confess to Adrien or ask him out on a date, she too has always forgotten something: a signature, her text, sometimes even how to think or speak (well, most of the time, but that’s beside the point).

She’s not panicking (yet). It’s alright. He just needs a reminder. Everything's (still) fine. She can do this—she can push him in the right direction.

“But we haven’t gone near the Seine at all! We should probably check it ou—”

“The Seine?!” Adrien exclaims, his whole face contorting in a fearful grimace and oh, that’s what it feels like to fall from very, very high with no yo-yo or partner to catch you, “No no no no no, certainly not the Seine! Nope, not going there!”

She swallows hard. “Why not?”

“Aaah…weeeell…you seeee…” he claps his hands together, “cats hate water, so I would hate to finish patrol anywherenear it.”

The grin he gives her after that is too wide to be genuine. Just like that, he’s put a mask on his face, and she has no idea how to read through it.

But she knows this is a terrible excuse, if it can even be called an excuse at all. The anxiety she feels in her stomach rapidly morphs into a knot that squeezes her guts tight, tight, tight, and climbs up, up, up her throat and clenches her jaw.

Swallowing gets harder, but she manages. “But you…you don’t really hate water. We went to the swimming pool together once.”

She hates how small her voice sounds. She hates the thin smile he gives her even more.

“Yo–you were there,” she goes on, unable to handle his silence. “You didn’t—you didn’t mind the water.”

“I…mind it today,” he finally says, his smile getting slightly manic. “Besides, I—” he yawns, loud and big and fake, and stretches his arms in the most exaggerated way she’s ever seen someone stretch, “I’m veeeery tired tonight, I think I need the rest. And soon, it’ll start to get dark, sooooo…”

“S-so?” she repeats, voice wavering.

“So, my Lady,” he takes her hand, and for a fraction of second she gets the stupid hope that he’s going to kiss the back of it. But instead, he shakes it with his, and she just wants to cry over how not romantic at all that gesture is. “This was a pleasure, as always!”

His words don’t match his actions, and all she can do is stare dumbly at his hand shaking her dead one. Her throat is too tight to answer.

He can’t have forgotten about the plan. He just…he just doesn’t want to go along with it, for some reason (“Some reason” like not being in love with her anymore).

He finally drops her hand, and gives a small wave. “Well, have a good evening, then?”

How can she have a good evening if it’s not spent with him like she envisioned?

“Yeah,” she gulps. “Evening.”

She turns around, and grabs her yo-yo. Her tears are too close to escape her control for her to risk facing him.

“Aaand see you, uh, well…hopefully not next akuma,” he giggles nervously and she wishes he would just stop talkingand go home, “but you know…next time?”

She doesn’t answer, cannot answer, so she throws her yo-yo on the next building and flees home as fast as possible.

[emsylcatac]

What the future holds, we'll never know

Summary

Marinette didn't know what the future was made of—but the glimpse of the one featuring her akumatised partner she had seen taught her one thing: she and Chat Noir should never be together.

Which currently wasn't really a problem considering that she was in love with Adrien, and that they had been getting closer lately.

Read it on AO3

Hiiii @ladynoirist Lisa gemini bro ♥♥♥ I was soooo happy to be your totally secret (yes pretend you never guessed it was me okay I was so subtle) santaaaa for the @mlsecretsanta !!! (also pretend we're totally in December and not in May ho ho ho! Reindeers are still roaming!)

I'm so sorry for how late I am, but I hope you'll enjoy this fic 😄

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h after the reveal

Marinette stood in front of the bistro door, pacing. Pretending to look at the menu, pretending to think of what to choose, pretending that everything was absolutely normal and fine and this was just a perfectly normal day.

It was, however, not normal nor fine inside her head.

She had to push that door. She was already a good half an hour late and it wouldn’t do good to make her friends wait longer—excuses were harder and harder to explain the more she shied away.

Please, don’t be here. She never thought she would hope for that. Please have your bodyguard bring you home. Your father forcing you to go home.

Please, go home by yourself and find some stupid excuse.

She would feel bad for having all these unfair hopes if she hadn't been feeling completely panicked inside.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Gulping, she chanced a glance at it.

Alya girl where are u?? we’re waiting to order!

Well. She couldn’t delay for much longer. Taking a deep breath, Marinette pushed the door open and scanned the room.

Please, please don’t be inside.

She wasn’t being fair, she knew that—it wasn’t his fault if she didn’t feel like facing him.

“Marinette!”

She turned in the direction of her name where Alya was waving at her, hand held up high, while Nino was grinning and—he was there.

Swallowing—though her mouth had been dry for a while now—Marinette headed towards them despite her legs screaming at her to turn around and run as fast as possible away from here.

“H-hey,” she stuttered, “sorry for...for being late.”

She sat next to Adrien (because of course she had to be seated next to him). Their eyes met for a split second and he gave her a timid smile that she couldn’t return.

“It’s fine,” Alya waved off, “the most important thing is that you’re here now! But quick, choose what you want to eat, I’m staaarving!”

She, for one, clearly wasn’t.

Adrien was giving her quick glances and she tried her best to ignore him.

It was him, it was him, it was him.

And it was oh so unfair. She picked up her menu to hide her face as tears threatened to escape  the corners of her eyes.

───※ ·❆· ※───

5th of October, 108 days before the reveal

“Try that.”

Marinette turned around, abandoning the search for her size amongst the many red skirts on the clothes rail.

Adrien was holding a tacky glittery dress, reflecting  the light of a multitude of disharmonious colours, supporting two red fabric-flowers on each shoulder straps. It was positively horrendous, the kind of clothes you wonder who would ever buy when passing in front of it in the store.

She looked up to Adrien’s innocent smile and had to bite down the disgusted expression she suspected she must have shown for a split second. She hoped he hadn’t noticed—the last thing she wanted was to offend him. Growing-up in the fashion industry didn’t make him a good judge in the field, it seemed.

“I… You want me to...to try that on?” she stammered.

He gave her a nod, humming enthusiastically.

Maybe it was the kind of dress Adrien saw on girls at fashion shows, and she just hadn't seen it before. Maybe he liked it on them.

Maybe he would find her pretty in it.

Against her better judgement (because her judgement was always lost when it came to him, wasn’t it?), Marinette stretched a hand towards the piece of clothing, gulping. She raised her eyes to his, offering a tight smile.

Adrien’s mouth twitched, and his eyes held a new mischievous glint that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“You...you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” she said, deflating.

He burst out laughing, a genuine, happy laugh that reminded her of a certain day in the rain, and she couldn’t help but smile despite herself.

“You should have seen your face!”

He hadn't made fun of her in a while—in fact, he hadn’t laughed at her since that day, in the rain. The thought of him being comfortable enough with her to allow himself to do it again made her cheeks heat up.

“I could...I could call your bodyguard or...or your dad! Yes! I could call your dad and out you, you know!” she threatened, fighting back the nerves that always messed up her words when she spoke to him.

She wouldn’t mess up today.

It stopped Adrien momentarily and suddenly he was pleading her, begging with joined hands.

“Marinette,” he said, and he did sound serious—she would have been convinced had his eyes not looked a tad too much like a kicked puppy’s, “please, you can’t do that. Please please please please, I’m sorry for ruining your shopping day and running into you and insisting to tag along and—”

Marinette giggled. “I’ll wear it,” she said, snatching the terrible (terrible!!) dress from his hands, careful to not brush his fingers and make it awkward. “Because unlike you who’s trying to hide, I’m no coward.”

Adrien straightened up. “I’m no coward either!”

She could feel her heart beating erratically in her chest. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t gonna be nervous when talking to Adrien. Not again. Not this time. She could banter with him—this was known territory. Not with him though, never with him, but…

“Okay,” she crossed her arms. Her eyes scanned  the different clothing items before landing on a pink plastic fur dress on a mannequin. “Prove it.”

He choked on a laugh before grinning at her. “Oh, you’re so on.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

16th of November, 66 days before the reveal

Adrien opened his diary, ready to write down the homework of the day Mrs Bustier was dictating.

The sound of ruffling papers and rummaging in bags filled the classroom, but he tried to focus on one sound in particular, resisting the urge to smile.

Any moment now.

Just a little longer before—

A loud groan resonated from behind him, and this time he let the grin slip onto his face, thankful that she couldn’t see it.

“What’s wrong?” Alya’s whisper made its way to his ears.

“Someone drew me with a towel on the head, swimming glasses and an ugly party dress!”

Adrien couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.

Teasing Marinette, he found, was very entertaining. He didn’t know exactly when he started to feel comfortable enough to do it. Didn’t know what exactly it was that was making it deliciously familiar yet all so new—and above all, warm.

Her reaction had been worth the wait. He  silently delighted in the way she battled between raging against him and finding him hilarious (because with the way she giggled, or stammered, or even bit her lips the few times he had joked with her, before getting ahold of herself and teasing back, she had to find him hilarious, right?).

He guessed he deserved the ruler slap he received on the head.

Yes, Adrien liked her reactions, he thought while rubbing his head. He liked that new, teasing  dynamic he’d been having with her for a couple of weeks now. He liked it.

But above all, he loved—

Adrien let a soft fond smile pull at his lips when he opened his diary that evening, once seated at his desk. A drawing quickly scribbled in the margin lit up by his many computer screens welcomed him of what he assumed was a new Gabriel ad featuring him in an atrocious fur dress coloured in fluro pink highlighter.

Above all, he loved her witty and sneaky comebacks.

───※ ·❆· ※───

8th of December, 44 days before the reveal

“What are you thinking about?”

Ladybug saw a smile stretch across her partner’s lips. He let out a fond chuckle, throwing his head up towards the sky. His eyes were closed, but she could tell that he was seeing more stars that way than if they had been opened looking up at the Parisian sky. She envied him a little.

“I’m thinking,” he simply said.

And didn’t say anything after that.

She waited a little, just in case, but he remained silent. His feet dangled above the edge of the roof and he started gently swinging his legs one after the other. He let out a breathless giggle, as if he couldn’t control it, and hummed a song her ears caught only because of the wind blowing towards her.

Her heart did a somersault in her chest at the sight. She felt a weird mix of emotions, not unpleasant but not entirely enjoyable either, bittersweetness and happiness mingling together.

He did look happy—but tonight it felt like she wasn’t a part of it. That he was in his own bubble of joy, a bubble she once had complete control over but, in that instant, was slipping through her fingers. If she was being honest, it had been slowly and subtly escaping her for a while now.

He was in love, she realised. Her gaze on him softened, before she turned away from him to look towards the sky, too, and exhaled a puff of hot air that dissipated in the cold and continued to grow as she joined him in his humming, closing her eyes.

If she wasn’t the one he was shining for tonight, she would still share that moment of exhilaration with him.

Besides, she had reasons to feel giddy herself too.

───※ ·❆· ※───

29th of December, 23 days before the reveal

“Hey.” Plagg’s voice wasn’t loud enough to pull Adrien out of his reverie completely, but enough to bring the cloud he was on a little bit back down to Earth. “You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past twenty minutes now. What’s up?”

Adrien let the thread of his lucky charm pass through his fingers, feeling the beads between them rolling from one to another. “I have?”

Plagg stayed silent for a few seconds. “Yes. Are you alright?”

Adrien chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.” I have been for a little while now, he didn’t say.

Suddenly, he got up, walked towards his computer, picked up his phone from his desk and opened Instagram. His fingers quickly found Marinette’s name and pressed her icon to see her latest story. He smiled as a selfie of her and Alya appeared, and played it again once it was over.

“Ah. I see.” Adrien hadn’t noticed Plagg flying above his shoulder but he couldn’t care less. “You like her?”

“I love her,” he simply corrected.

“Really?! Planning on asking her out? Sweeping her off her feet?”

Adrien shook his head, chuckling. He put his phone back on his desk and let himself fall further in his seat, pushing his feet against the desk leg to propel himself back.

Marinette, Marinette, Marinette.

“We’ll see,” he stretched his arms above his head. “We’ll see what happens and when I feel that the time is right. I don’t want to mess it up. Not this time.”

Not with her.

───※ ·❆· ※───

11th of January, 10 days before the reveal

When she found Adrien waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs that morning, blushing, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other holding a yellow rose with red tips on the petals and stammering a simple yet powerful “I think I love you”, Marinette was glad she had been on time for school for once.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h before the reveal

“I can’t believe you made me wake up at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning,” Marinette shook her head.

Adrien laughed and held her hand tighter as he pulled her along with him, striding alongside the Seine. “But you have to admit that it was worth it.”

Spending time with you is worth the world, she thought. I could wake up at five if that’s what you wanted. She didn’t say any of that out loud. They had only barely started dating, after all. It could scare him off.

Instead, she let half a smile pull at her lips. “I suppose.”

Adrien stopped in his tracks and turned to her. “It was worth it! It just snowed during the night—for once! It’s so rare, we have to enjoy it! And the sunrise was beautiful!”

She crossed her arms, pretending to think about it and evaluate her morning.

“It was,” Adrien insisted, pleaded for her to agree.

“Fine,” she conceded, giggling. “It was beautiful. I’m glad you forced me out of bed.”

She was rewarded by a brilliant smile, that melted her heart despite the cold January air on her cheeks, and a kiss on her forehead (that melted her whole).

A giddy laugh escaped her and she couldn’t help but kiss his nose, making him giggle, the sound sweeter than the glockenspiel a busker was playing a few meters away.

Adrien’s cheeks were red when she pulled away—from the cold or from her kiss, she didn’t know, but she hoped for the latter. She decided to grab his winter hat, leaving his hair all messy on top and wide eyes of outraged shock on his face. Adrien, she had realised, really liked when she was messing with him and she berated herself for never having dared to do such a thing before.

In retaliation, he grabbed her own hat and put it on his head. “Jokes on you,” he said, “now I have a pink pompom while you have a lame black one!”

She laughed as she put his hat on her own head. He likes me, she chanted in her head. He loves me even. He loves me, he loves me, and I love him.  All was well that day. All was perfect.

“When are we meeting up with Alya and Nino for lunch, again?”

“I think we still have an hour,” Adrien replied.

It felt like nothing could disrupt their date, their day, them, really.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, the reveal

Accidents were stupid, most of the time. One second of miscalculation, one careless mistake and every neatly protected secret could be disrupted forever.

Detransforming in the same alleway was probably the stupidest, lamest and most careless way to reveal their identities, Marinette and Adrien thought, as they faced each other with wide eyes and heart beating too fast in their rib cages with their kwamis hanging incriminatingly at their side.

Marinette didn’t think. She ran.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h30 after the reveal

To say the atmosphere was awkward was an understatement. They were barely glancing at each other, passing each other the salt without brushing a finger or looking where they handed it.

Marinette overfilled Adrien’s glass when pouring him some water; Adrien startled when Marinette’s hand accidentally brushed his arm while trying to clean his table up.

They were a mess.

In a way, Marinette was glad that Alya and Nino were here to provide distraction.

She just hoped they wouldn’t notice the tension between her and Adrien.

“So, how have you two lovebirds been doing? Still in the chummy-chummy phase?”

So much for that. There was an awkward silence, none of them knowing what to really say.

“Sure,” she decided to take the plunge and ate a mouthful of fries so she wouldn’t have to explain further.

Alya and Nino said nothing, looking between the two of them.

“We’ve been, uh…we went walking around the Seine this morning,” Adrien mumbled. “To see the snow and, uh…”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Marinette cut. She couldn’t believe she was managing to talk to him. “Y-your...your winter hat.”

She handed it to him and Adrien looked at it for a few seconds before taking it back, his face crumbling and disheartened.

“...Thanks. Um, here is yours, I suppose.”

Marinette closed her eyes tight as she snatched her hat from his hands, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

Where did they stand, now? They had barely even started dating. Could they brush off the massive new developments that were their identities? Could superheroes even date?

White flashed before her eyes. Her heart did a somersault, and the nausea intensified, making her head spin.

Stupid. Idiot, superheroes couldn’t date, least of all her and Adrien.

It was unfair that she was having these thoughts now, when she still didn’t know what was going on in her head—Adrien, Chat Noir, her partner. The same… so similar yet so different.

He had given her a rose when he had confessed. It was such a Chat Noir thing to do...she should have known.

They were the same person and it was awkward and she needed time she didn’t get the luxury to have. The second she thought she had acknowledged this information, it would all come back the next with the panic accompanying it.

The silence following must have been long and heavy because Alya took in a sharp breath. “Okay. What’s going on between you two? You’ve been acting awkward since we’ve got here.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

23rd of January, 2 days after the reveal

“So, this is it?”

Adrien felt the knot in his throat tighten a little more and more as Marinette kept looking to the side, silent, avoiding his gaze. He didn’t know why he asked; he knew the answer. And he knew that hearing it would cut like a knife, but maybe that’s what he needed instead of foolishly pretending there was hope.

“This...this is it,” she finally said in a breath.

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

“I… okay.” Okay. Because what could he say? It wasn’t like he could decide for her.

If it was only on him, of course he wouldn’t want anything to end. Of course he would fight for them, and try and see where they’d go, identities be damned because...well, it was still them, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry. I...I really am. It’s just… It’s…” Marinette sighed. “It’s just that it’s a lot to take in, you know?”

She had finally raised her eyes to his, and Adrien had to fight back tears; maybe it would have been better if she had continued to avoid him.

So he was the one to turn his eyes away this time.

“I guess,” he couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice to show through. “I just...I didn’t know it would be so bad.”

“It’s not! It’s not that! It’s just that… we still...we still need to get used to this,” she gestured between them, “and… superheroes ca—”

“—can’t date, I know. I understand. I mean—not completely, but... I get it.”

And he did; really, he did get it.

It was selfish of him, probably, to not want things to stop. He found that it was also maybe a little selfish of her to want them to.

None of them had decided to be heroes—and yet they had to bear the consequences of such a responsibility.

Looking back at her, she had now dropped down her eyes and wasn’t watching him anymore. A strong gust of wind blew on the balcony, making Marinette’s hair wave with it.

“It’s getting late,” Adrien spoke. “And you’re freezing out here. I should get going. We’ll see each other tomorrow at school.”

He extended his baton.

“Adri—Chat Noir! Wait!”

She grabbed his tail, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around. She was fidgeting, and looked tentatively into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I hope it’s not...I hope it’s not too hard but…”

He sighed. “I’m not gonna lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt. It...it does. A lot. It’s like…” he sighed. “It’s like we had everything, and then…” He paused. “But I guess… none of us can control the way we feel, right?”

She nodded numbly. He attempted to give a smile, but he knew he wasn’t doing a good job at it.

“I just wished I knew what’s wrong with me, “ he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“I… it’s not… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Marinette tried. He could hear her voice trembling. I don’t think there’s anything right with me either, he didn’t say—and she didn’t say either, he noted with a bitter smile. “We’re just a mess right now.”

She bit her lip and he had to force to keep his eyes on hers. He felt terrible. Worse than all those times she had rejected him, because—well, because now he knew just how much he was losing.

“That we are.”

“We’re still...we’re still friends, right?” she asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“It’s you and me against the world, so… of course.” He shrugged.

And with that, he left, finally letting the tears blur his vision on his way home.

Tonight, their old promise sounded more bitter than comforting. Them against the world, the heroes fighting for the city, forced together by their duty and pulled apart at the same time.

───※ ·❆· ※───

23rd of January, 2 days after the reveal

Marinette rushed back inside her bedroom as soon as Adrien had left and threw her head in her pillow, crying her heart out. Screaming to Tikki how unfair it was to have to be responsible, at Master Fu for choosing this life for her, at herself for following it, at Adrien and Chat Noir for being the same people.

Shouting at Adrien again, at another Adrien she hadn’t even really known that it was all his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault, all his fault. She knew it was unfair of her—but she needed to put the blame on someone, and Chat Blanc, who didn’t exist anymore, seemed like a good candidate, no matter how wrong she knew it was.

───※ ·❆· ※───

24th of January, 3 days after the reveal

“...My father wanted us to break up.”

Marinette shrunk on herself. She wished she had been able to come up with a better excuse on the spot. Anything that would have avoided Adrien’s cold and numb tone when he repeated her flimsily excuse.

But nothing sounded plausible enough; nothing else could explain this sudden change in their dynamic.

“It...it was a surprise, really, we weren’t expecting it,” she tried, hoping he would follow her lead.

Adrien clicked his tongue. “A surprise, indeed.”

“Aaaand you didn’t think of dating in secret becaaause…?” Alya drawled, the cease in her brow increasing the longer she looked between the two of them.

“Because… well… because…” Marinette fumbled, trying to think  of a way out because Alya wasn’t wrong and it was a flaw in her carelessly crafted plan.

“Because Marinette didn’t want to,” Adrien supplied curtly.

Alya and Nino’s heads snapped towards her with incredulous looks in their eyes, making her involuntarily shrink on herself even more.

“She said it wasn’t worth a try,” he shrugged and sat down, his back now to her.

Alya looked between the two with a mix of worry, incomprehension and a hint of pity. Marinette didn’t dare look at Nino to see what emotions would flicker in his eyes.

“That’s not it, it’s…” she struggled, took a deep breath, and tried again. She had to roll with what he came up with. “If he were to find out we...we’d be in trouble. You’d be in trouble… and I don’t want that,” she whispered the last words.

“Like I said,” Adrien said coolly, half turning towards them. “Not even worth a try.”

Her heart crumpled.

───※ ·❆· ※───

26th of january, 5 days after the reveal

“Chat Noir, you’re here!” Marinette exclaimed, relieved.

He twirled his baton, deflecting a spurt of gooey green liquid she could only dread to know the composition of—some akumas truly were more disgusting than others to deal with. “As for every akuma.” He raised a brow. “Don’t act so surprised.”

She startled. In the midst of all the action, in the hope and wait for his arrival—because she always felt bolder and stronger once her partner was by her side—she had forgotten.

This was Adrien, her ex-boyfriend with whom she had broken up and had upsetted. And who still wasn’t talking to her much. Thinking about him as ‘ex’ suddenly hurt as she realised it was the first time she was referring to him as such in her head.

Marinette blinked back remorseful tears and tried ignoring the tightness in her chest to focus on the akuma again. She still needed to find where the akumatised object was, and she couldn’t let her emotions get in the way of her job.

She decided to pretend things were fine. “His name is Snowtty, we don’t know the victim but it’s a kid who was made fun of for having a runny nose after receiving a snowball in his face. Try to avoid his green spurts, they would freeze you on the spot!”

Adrien barely nodded before jumping into action, without so much as a word of acknowledgement like he would usually do. It hurt more than she would care to admit.

She knew they hadn’t talked since that evening on her balcony, but she had hoped he just needed time to process and that it wasn’t deeper than that. He had said they were still friends, hadn’t he?

Trying to ignore the sting in her eyes, she jumped after him into the fight.

“Ladybug! I see your pet has arrived to the scene as well,” Snowtty sneered. “All the better for me, I need both your miraculous after all!”

“I’m my own person, thank you very much,” Chat Noir said, none of his usual teasing in his voice. “And you won’t be getting any miraculous. Why don’t you give us your akuma instead and save everyone’s time? You’re just gonna lose like the others do, anyway.”

The akuma let out a growl of frustration and double-fired in their direction. Marinette ran for cover using her yoyo as a deflecting shield, Adrien using his baton.

He didn’t take cover with her.

She called him and was almost relieved when he picked up.

“Okay, he’s angrier than I thought he was. Any idea where the akuma could be?”

“You’re telling me you don’t?” he raised a brow. “He’s throwing his substance from that bracelet he has on his left wrist, and there aren’t any other objects.”

It seemed obvious now. But she wasn’t at the top of her game and was far too focused on her relationship with her partner than she was on the fight at hand, and she realised how detrimental it could be—not letting her personal life interfere with her duties as Ladybug was one of the rules she had promised herself to never break, yet here she was.

“Right,” she said, voice wavering. “I… Right. You’re right. Good job, Kitty.”

She regretted the nickname as soon as it left her mouth.

“‘tis nothing, Ladybug,” he shrugged. “Guess you cast your lucky charm and I distract him as usual.”

“Not yet, I need to first figure ou—” She let out a sigh as he ended the call, and turned to see him heading back straight for the akuma.

Well. The message was clear.

Throwing her yoyo angrily in the air, she called on her lucky charm. And was rewarded for her effort with an umbrella.

She wanted to scream.

She glanced up and closed her eyes, temporarily blinded by the brightness of the sun. “And it’s not even raining,” she grumbled.

She stomped away from her hiding place, only to be thrown on the ground a second after.

“Wha—”

Adrien was hovering over her and spared a glance behind towards Snowtty before standing and helping her up.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

But he ran back towards the akuma without so much as a glance in her direction. The momentary relief she felt when he saved her evaporated right away. She ran after him.

She hated how he could be upset with her in the middle of an akuma fight but still be able to focus on the task at hand. Because he was paying great care to the akuma and his surroundings and was trying to actively find a solution to put an end to the fight—something she had a harder time doing when her personal feelings were getting overwhelming. She couldn’t reproach him for that. It was just incredibly infuriating.

“Adri—Chat Noir, will you please talk to me and stop ignoring me?” Marinette exploded, frustrated. “It’s been two days and now is not the time!”

“Bold words from someone who ran away and avoided me for two days after discovering my identity,” Adrien snapped back, avoiding another blast of green.

Her heart stuttered painfully. He was right, but it made it no less hurtful to hear. She and Chat Noir had argued in the past, and while it had never been pleasant, it was something they knew how to navigate through — how to come out stronger from. She and Adrien, however? Never. She hadn’t even fathom the possibility of it ever coming up one day. Any comebacks she could have had died on her tongue, and Ladybug found herself speechless.

They both ran for cover once again behind the safety of a rooftop chimney, leaving Snowtty growling at having lost their track.

She swallowed painfully. “Listen. I know you’re hurt, I understand and you have every right to be. But we need to work together right now.”

He kicked some of the remaining snow from the roof, fidgeting with his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think my father would approve of that.”

She frowned. “Of what?”

“Us working togeth—” he sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything, that was rude. Let’s...let’s just get back to the fight. I’ll behave.”

She grabbed his hand before he could vault away. “Wait.”

“Ladybug, I don’t think we have the time to talk or—”

“And I think it’s important that we talk now,” she said, giving him a pleading look. “Please.”

He kept eye contact with her for a few seconds before glancing hesitantly towards the city, nibbling at his lower lip. “Okay,” he finally murmured.

She involuntarily squeezed his hand in relief. He didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t take it away either.

She hadn’t taken the time to focus on her feelings for him in the midst of her freakout about his identity; the warmth of his hand and the tips of his claws barely grazing hers and enhancing its delicacy made her realise that if anything, they had only gotten stronger.

It was painfully heartwarming.

“Are you...are you still… upset, about us, um… about me… you know…” she gestured between them.

“Breaking up with me?” He shook his head. “No. I’m hurt, yes. But that’s your right. That’s not what I’m angry about.”

“Then what…” she trailed off.

He sighed. “I thought I had made it clear, but I guess not.” He paused and kicked some more snow. “I didn’t like you telling everyone that my father forced us to break up,” he mumbled, and she had to listen carefully to pick up every word.

She blinked. “That’s… it?” She threw her hands in front of her at the glare he sent her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong… I agree it wasn’t my best excuse, but we had to find one that sounded plausible and…”

“That’s the thing, Marinette,” he said. “You decided to use my father as your excuse without asking me first.” He wrapped his arms around himself and looked to the ground. “I know my father isn’t… isn’t the best and that he can be… a little strict, but… He wouldn’t do that.”

There was a beat of silence.

“He wouldn’t do that,” he repeated more quietly.

She didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or her; but she didn’t know Gabriel Agreste much and thus couldn’t confirm nor refute his words.

He shook his head. “But the thing is… How would you have felt if I had told everyone that...that your parents had forced us to break up?” He lifted his gaze towards her, green eyes piercing through her.

“Oh,” she said, understanding dawning on her. “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.”

“I hadn;t...I hadn’t thought about that,” Marinette admitted.

“Well.”He sniffed, angrily wiping at his eyes. “You should have.”

She hadn’t noticed that he was on the verge of crying, but she instantly felt shame coursing through her.

He kicked the snow harder. “And the worst part  is… the worst part is that… it workedI he almost spat. “They...they believed your excuse. They didn’t even doubt it, they just….” He gestured with his hands .“...Bought it as if it was obvious and that...that hurt.”

She stayed quiet for a few seconds, taking it in. She didn’t want to start the conversation now as to why it had been that easy for their friends to believe his father would do such a thing—it was something that they would have to discuss another day. A day on which he’d be more ready.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I panicked because I...I realised I hadn’t thought of a reason for our breakup. My mind was busy with something else.” She chuckled dryly with a hand gesture in the air. “But you’re right, I crossed a line and that’s not an excuse. I probably would have killed you if you had told them my parents were the reason for our breakup.”

A timid smile appeared on his lips. “Good thing it was just me, then.”

She giggled tearily. “Yeah, good thing. But still. I hope you can forgive me. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

He sighed. “You know I can’t stay mad at you for very long, Marinette. Thank you. And I apologise too. I… I probably overreacted. And I should have known better than to snap during a fight.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. But maybe now, don’t wait until there’s an akuma to talk to me. Now that we know each other’s identities, you don’t need to.”

“I think I needed time to… digest that. But you’re right, will do.”

They looked at each other, smiling shyly as an awkward silence settled between them.

“So, Ladybug,” Adrien spoke with a wobbly smile, glancing towards the lucky charm in her hands, “shall we go back to the fight so you can play Mary Poppins?”

It still wasn’t a ‘my Lady’ or a ‘Buguinette’, and there was no wink to accompany his teasing, but he was back to joking. She would take it.

“Of course.” She smiled. “But let me recharge first.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

15th of February, 25 days after the reveal

“Psssst, come here, kitty kitty! I just want to be your frien—”

Marinette groaned as the ginger cat ran away, joining a tabby cat further up the alleway.

A chuckle from behind her startled her. “Looks like you’re having cat troubles.”

She turned around to meet her partner’s cat-like eyes, and yes, she was having cat troubles, indeed.

“They don’t like me,” she just said.

Adrien seemed to search her eyes for a second or two, his expression unreadable. “You know that’s not true.”

She didn’t know if the conversation was about the cats in the street anymore, and she wasn’t sure whose fault it was. But soon after, Adrien shook his head, blond hair softly sweeping against his cheeks, and let a smile pull at his lips.

He crouched down, grabbed his belt tail and slowly moved it around.

“You need to let them come to you.”

Marinette watched the tail slither, half hypnotised by the movement, until she heard the soft tapping of his claws on the ground. His fingers drummed in a steady rhythm, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how delicate the motion was.

It seemed that some cats around agreed because, soon enough, one advanced towards him, while another had laid down and began wiggling his butt and tail, ready to pounce.

She looked back at Adrien and he was smiling widely at them, anticipating their every move and excited to see their reactions. He looked so happy, so carefree and her heart did a somersault at the sight — she knew that she shouldn’t think like this, but she wished she had been the one he was looking at. She wished she could be one of these kittens, ready to tackle him to the ground, so they could fall in a heap of laughter together. So they could suddenly stop, and gaze into each other’s eyes, getting lost in each other, and maybe, just maybe, lean a little bit closer and ki—

“Wow.” Adrien’s loud laughter shook her out of her reverie. “No need to bite me, little one!”

While a small grey cat had attacked his tail and was nibbling at it, rolling on the floor, another one was more focused on his hand.

The white one with blue eyes.

“Careful,” she told him, “that one’s nasty.”

Adrien continued to play with the cat, moving a finger around and hovering it above his nose that the kitten tried to take a mouthful of.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Well, he bit you. And earlier, he scratched me. Good thing my suit could protect me or my arms would have been covered in blood,” she informed.

Adrien smiled. “That doesn’t make him nasty.”

She spluttered. “Wha—? How—of course it does! He’s a mean cat, trust me on this! All white cats with blue eyes are!”

He chuckled, giving him a fond look the kitten didn’t deserve. “Good thing I’m a black cat, then.”

She shuddered.

“And he’s not mean,” he went on, “he’s broken.”

Marinette frowned. “What do you mean, ‘broken’?”

Somehow, Adrien had managed to pet the cat on the head, making him let out a contented meow. “Cats who have been abandoned or rejected by their mother too young tend to be more aggressive,” he explained, a pained smile she wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. “They scratch and bite a lot because in a way, they’re kind of lost.”

He took him in his arms and kissed his nose, to which the cat answered with a small ‘meow’. Staying close to his face, he scratched under his chin that the cat was exposing happily to him as a sign of complete trust. Adrien’s smile melted when a purr rumbled out of the kitten, and Marinette hung on it with both fascination and envy.

He let out a breathy chuckle. “See? He just needs someone to show him they care.”

“Show him they care,” she repeated dumbly. She could do that. She coul— “What if...what if it still doesn’t change anything?”

Adrien’s gaze left the kitten to turn to her. “What do you mean?”

“What if...What if even if someone cares about him, and cares about him so much they would sacrifice their own happiness for him if it came to it, and shows him everyday and tells him everyday but he still…” She stopped, fumbling with her words for a second. “...He still keeps biting and scratching and feeling lost and alone a-and no one can save him?” She lifted her eyes to his, only to find her vision blurry.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you talking about?” Adrien breathed.

“M-maybe, this cat is doomed from the start. Maybe he’ll be like that forever, no matter what and maybe they’ll all be like that and—”

“My Lady,” a hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her from spiralling further—and here it was, the ‘my Lady ‘she’d been craving for so much, at the most unexpected time. “That’s stupid. I’m not sure if it’s about cats anymore,” he chuckled, “but I’ll pretend it is.”

She blinked back tears. He kept on, “Yes, some of these hurt cats never change. But not all of them! You can never really know what will happen, how they’ll evolve, because they’re all different, and they’ll all live different lives.”

He smiled at her, his delicate hand never leaving her shoulder, while the other continued petting the purring white kitten. “We can’t guess what will happen to them. All we can do is try, and take the risk. And maybe the owners of this lovely kitty will be lucky and have a loving ball of fur”— he bopped the cat’s nose who in turn let out a small ‘meow’— “or they’ll be less lucky and have a little monster that—ouch,” he said, as the cat chased his bopping finger to bite it, “bite them from time to time but still would be worth caring for.” He sighed a chuckle.

Marinette swallowed, taking it in. “So you mean that… the future of this cat isn’t… set in stone?” she asked carefully.

“Of course not! No one can know what he’ll grow into now, it will depend on a lot of factors.” He took his hand off her shoulder to lift the cat off his lap and nuzzle his nose with his. “Isn’t that right, little one? You’ll be a good kitty, won’t you?”

She let a smile pull at her lips at the sight. Adrien turned to face her with a big goofy grin on his face.

“If our future was written in our DNA, we’d have known all about our futures a long time ago,” he chuckled.

She let his words sink in, closing her eyes. What if...what if.

What if their love wouldn’t destroy the world, this time.

But what if it did again.

...But what if it didn’t?

She heaved a sigh, releasing some of the tension that had been weighing down on her. When she opened her eyes, it was to see that Adrien was back to playing with the kitten.

“And what are we gonna call you, hm? Ooooh, I know! See, I’m Chat Noir, so that would make you Chat Bla—”

“—FLOCON!” Marinette interrupted him.

He blinked at her. “Chat Flocon?”

“No, just...just Flocon. He’s white as snow, and fluffy like a snowflake, so it makes sense. And,” she added after a beat, “it’s cute.”

And it reminded her of that date they shared, just before revealing their identities, strolling through a snowy Paris. It was a memory she cherished, even if it didn’t end quite well.

Adrien grinned. “Okay. Flocon it is.” He scratched the cat’s chin, who purred in turn and tried to bite his finger again. “No,” he told him, “I said no biting, you thickhead.”

She could watch him bicker with a kitten for hours, she thought.

“Hey, Buguinette,” he called out to her, pulling her out of her momentary reverie, “you wanna hold Flocon?”

She blinked. “Errr… I don’t know if that's a good idea or…”

He laughed. “He’s not that aggressive. It’s up to you; but if you want to try befriending him again…” He held a half-wiggling and meowing Flocon in the air towards her.

Marinette bit her lip, and took a deep breath. Maybe it was a bad idea to cave, but... “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll give him a try.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

26th of April, 95 days after the reveal

“Adrien, aren’t you gonna snap her in half?” Alya asked with incredulous eyes.

It made both him and Marinette giggle. “It’s like she doesn’t know that you’re usually the one snapping me in half between the two of us,” Adrien whispered in her ear, which made her laugh harder. “She said she wanted to!” he told Alya louder.

“Yes, Alya,” Marinette added, “I’m a strong girl and I can carry him! Right, Adrien?”

“Right!” he replied enthusiastically, clinging harder on her back.

He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he was too busy feeling lighthearted and free on this spring afternoon. It was the first warm day of the year, with only a slightly chilly breeze coming to ruffle his hair at times that only contributed in increasing his  giddiness. For the fifth time this day, he thanked the star that made his father allow him to go out to the temporary funfair with his friends—though he thought they were studiously working on a school project.

“It’s not because you can carry him that you should,” Nino said, shaking his head fondly.

“You’re just jealous because Alya isn’t carrying you.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Let’s ride to the moon and back!”

“To the moon and back!” Adrien repeated, one hand raised in the air.

Marinette let out a warrior cry before attempting to run, albeit slowly because of his weight, and he could tell they wouldn’t go far as he already felt himself slide down and her grip on his legs slacken.

He should have known they’d fall face first before she got too exhausted. If he had, maybe he’d have had the time to react and avoid it.

As it was, he just found himself on top of Marinette on the ground. He lifted himself up and sat down, Marinette soon doing the same.

Distantly, he heard Alya and Nino running towards them shouting “are you okay”s and “are you hurt”s at profusion, but he didn’t pay them any mind as Marinette looked up at him with eyes glinting with mirth and they both fell in a heap of laughters.

Some passersby looked at them funnily while others whispered some “that must hurt”s or “everything alright?”s to them.

“It’s okay,” Adrien told them. “We’ve had it worse!”

“Yes,” Marinette chimed in. “One time we were thrown by an akuma—”

“—A big tuna," he quickly corrected.

“—a big tuna, he’s right,” she repeated, “and we both fell right into a moving bus, and we survived!”

“And you find that funny,” Nino deadpanned, putting his hands on his hips as Adrien helped Marinette up.

Adrien just grinned at him. “Yup! We’re the survivors.”

“And we’re gonna make it!” Marinette sang.

“You’re insufferable,” Alya chuckled. “The both of you. I don’t know how you two can be more unhinged than me with Marinette, but—”

“—That’s because we’re exes besties,” Adrien chirped. Despite the months that had passed, it always hurt a little to call each other “exes”. But he had long since learned that laughing at his suffering was better than crying over it. He just wondered when and if he’ll ever be over her one day. He probably never really would.

“Hey,” Nino said indignantly. “But you’re my best friend!”

“Maybe, but are you also exes, hm?” Marinette asked him. “Because we are, and it makes us the unstoppable exes besties! And now, our next stop will be…” She jumped on Adrien’s back without warning and he caught her with a ‘oof’. “...to that splashing boat attraction over there!”

“Dudes, you already fell once, what are you doing?”

“We’re getting back up, Nino, and we try again,” she announced proudly, raising her fist up. “Let’s go to the boat, Adrien, and may our ship sail! Go, go, go!”

Adrien faintly heard a ‘they’re beyond help’ from Alya as he ran towards the attraction, both his and Marinette’s laughters echoing in the wind.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Adrien landed with a grunt on the pavement. The suit was a good protector, but it didn’t stop his back from hurting from the impact with the ground. This akuma — Firebender as he called himself — truly was more violent than usual.

“Wow,” he managed to breath between two gasps, “you’re on fire today!”

He tried to push himself up with an arm, and raised his head towards Firebender with a half-closed eye. The fireball he saw coming towards him arrived so fast that he didn’t even have the time to do so much as widening his eyes. An anguish cry was the last thing he heard before it faded and he saw nothing at all.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Marinette realised she was screaming when she felt her lungs were empty.

Usually, when an akuma took lives, the victims just disappeared into thin air, as if they had never been. They weren’t lying there, unmoving on the pavement like Adrien was. Somehow, seeing was worse than not.

She felt dizzy, as if everything around her was moving in slow motion. She staggered, trying to turn her head away from the sight of her unresponsive partner who was becoming blurrier and blurrier the longer she looked at him. She needed to breathe, she needed to—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” she screeched instead, the sound reverberating into the street, bouncing from building to building.

She took a ragged breath, and another, closing her eyes as she took in the dead silence that greeted her scream.

She swallowed her first sob and squeezed her eyes tight shut, taking yet another heavy breath. She turned towards the akuma before opening her eyes, otherwise she knew she wouldn’t be able to tear her gaze away from Adrien’s dead form. She gritted her teeth as soon as the thought of him being gone entered her mind again.

“You’re a monster,” she spat, low and cold, the last word echoing through the silence and carrying her voice to Firebender’s ears — to Hawkmoth’s.

All these days worrying over the possibility of a devastating future she had seen, all this time doing everything she could to avoid it no matter how little she knew of it, and she hadn’t considered the possibilities she hadn’t been a witness of. All these days flirting with the line between caving and resisting only for her regretful indecision to hit her in the most cruel way.

“Give up, Ladybug,” Hawkmoth spoke through Firebender, “you no longer have your pet. All you have to do is surrender your miracu—”

“And what?” she spat. “Let my partner die? Listen to me, Hawkmoth. I have a chance to save him, and for that I need to defeat you. You think I’m stupid? I’m not giving up on Paris. I’m not giving up on him!”

And I’m not giving up on us, she told herself.

“Lucky charm!” she roared, rage and determination coursing through her veins.

She knew nothing about how Chat Blanc had really happened, she realised, catching the spotted chain falling from above. Nothing about her current future, as she scanned her surroundings for a solution. Nothing but the crushing weight of the present and her fear of the unknown, as she opened her yoyo to retrieve the dragon miraculous and put it around her neck.

“Tikki, Longg, unify!”

As she surrounded herself with water and ran towards Firebender with only one goal in mind, she promised herself to never let the gifts the present gives her slide in favour of hypothetical futuristic tragedies. She was finally done running away and sacrificing her life to her fears.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Light suddenly flooded Adrien’s vision as he took a sharp and deep intake of breath. His lungs were burning with the sudden air filling them up, and he squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He groggily lifted himself up on his elbows when—

“Chaton!”

—a red blur threw herself at him. He caught her, her hair in his nose and her warm breath and hot tears in his neck.

He let her sob and squeeze him as understanding washed over him. He gently threaded his clawed fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, noticing absent-mindedly that she was also wearing the dragon miraculous.

She slowly detangled herself from him but stayed close, looking into his eyes through her wet ones and caressing his cheek with her thumb.

“Kitty,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “my Kitty.”

He didn’t have the time to react before her lips were on his and she took her time to savour him before ever so slowly pulling away. He let her do.

She didn’t stop there. Gently cradling his face in her trembling hands, she kissed his cheek. And his other cheek. And his forehead. His nose. His jaw. Puncturing each of her kisses with whispers of “mon Chaton”, or “Kitty”, or “my love”, to which his heart made a somersault at, before diving for his neck.

Each time he kept on letting her do, keeping her close to him as she sobbed through her kisses and yet another nickname for him.

He could feel her breathing him in; so, with his nose in her hair, he inhaled her scent too. Her hot breath left his neck once again, and she came back for his lips.

This time, he kissed her back, and as soon as his lips moved against hers, she choked on a sobbed whine and pushed her mouth closer to his, if that was even possible

He hadn’t forgotten the taste of her lips on his, even after all these months; but he also knew their kisses had never burnt so intensely, driven by despair, the need to memorise the present and the aroma of being alive.

───※ ·❆· ※───

1st of June, 131 days after the reveal

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Marinette smiled sadly. “Oh, I don’t know. Hurting you. Putting us through this mess. Not telling you about Chat Blanc. Take your pick.”

She let her arms rest on the railing of the bridge, looking across the Seine. The clouds were getting darker and darker, though a sunray pierced through one of them, lighting up a few buildings on the shore in a powerful atmosphere. Her eyes followed a barge floating further and further away, waiting for the moment it would cross the ray of light.

“You’ve been hurting too,” Adrien said after a few seconds. “You’ve been shouldering it all on your own. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

His hand slid into hers and she welcomed it, intertwining her fingers timidly with his. She glanced at him with a tentative smile and he smiled back, looking at her with soft eyes. She looked back towards the Seine just in time to see the barge slicing through the sunbeam.

“Still. Maybe, if I had told you… if I hadn’t let my fears get the best of me…” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“And maybe,” Adrien spoke when it was clear she wouldn’t add something more, squeezing her hand once, “if you had told me earlier, I would have given up Chat Noir.”

She gasped and turned to him, but he was looking at the Seine with saddened eyes.

“What do you mean?” she breathed.

“I’m not sure I’d have been able to handle hearing that I could destroy the world as an akuma,” he whispered, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb as if to reassure her. “It’s… really hard already, but I feel like it would’ve been worse before.”

He turned his head towards her again and she held his gaze, gripping his hand harder as if to dare him to leave.

“You said it yourself,” he went on, “just like we have no idea about what the future can really hold, we can’t know how things would have played out if we had done things differently. What really matters right now is what you want us to be from now on.”

She searched his expectant eyes for a few seconds before looking back at the Seine. A tourist boat coming towards them had replaced the barge in the sunspot before the window of clouds closed on the light, leaving only a dark atmosphere in its place. The clouds grew darker and a warm gust had picked up, making their hair fly in every direction and their clothes ruffling in a frenzy. Marinette felt her emotions growing with the wind, begging to be said and to explode.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and feeling the wind coursing through her as she gathered her thoughts, and opened them again.

“I love you, Adrien,” she spoke, her declaration followed by a distant rumble in the sky. “I love you so, so much. Discovering that you were Chat Noir, once I took it all in… it was the best thing in the world, but also the worst.”

She faced away from the Seine to face him instead and take both his hands in hers, gripping them as tight as she could to ground herself as she felt a flow of tears coming in.

“It made me fall in love with you so much more it hurt, but I knew I couldn’t be with you or I knew I shouldn’t because…” She paused, taking ragged breaths. “...Because it wouldn’t be responsible. Because we’re superheroes and because I had this warning with Chat Blanc, and as the guardian it’s my role to keep us grounded and to do the right thing.”

A lighting bolt pierced through the sky, accompanied by a loud thunderstrike a few seconds later. Adrien was looking at her with a pain in his eyes that she knew meant he was hurting for her and not him.

“But I don’t want to do the right thing this time,” she murmured, as she felt a first drop of water slide down her cheek. “I’m tired of doing what’s supposedly right. Not when...not when we’re both hurting so much that it feels like it’s more dangerous to stay this way instead of just… giving in.”

At this point, she didn’t know who out of her and Adrien were gripping the other’s hands the tightest. She felt more and more raindrops falling on her face and clothes. She didn’t know if the water in his eyes were because he was tearing up or not.

“So maybe our love destroyed the world, once,” she continued, “but I think there’s enough far more damaging hate in this world; and ever since these akuma attacks started, what saved it is our love — for Paris, for our family and friends… and for each other.”

Adrien’s eyes now held a glint of adoration. His now damped hair was sticking to his face while some strands curled with the water. She supposed hers wasn’t faring much better.

“So to answer your question,” she swallowed a sob, “I want us to be together… if you’ll have me.”

Lightning ripped through the sky accompanied by deafening thunder as Adrien pulled her into a crushing hug. She put her arms around his neck to pull him even closer to her and let the flow of her tears finally mix with the rain on her cheeks.

“Marinette,” he whispered, voice wavering and lips barely touching her ear, “I love you, of course I’ll have you. I’ll always have you.”

The rain fell even harder as they hugged closer and cried, soaking them, yet they couldn’t care less. Their clothes were sticking to their bodies, growing more and more uncomfortable, which was worsened by them being in each other’s arms, but Marinette hadn’t felt so good in a long time.

She suddenly pulled away from the hug and cradled his head between her hands. He took her face in his and they stayed closed, forehead against forehead, breathing each other in. Another rumbled resounded and Marinette’s last resolve snapped with it—she brought her lips to his and kissed him.

He responded in kind, and she drank him in and pressed her mouth closer as she felt him doing the same. She should care about the rain falling and the thunder rumbling, but the battering of the elements were just making her feel freer, finally allowing her to get away from all her self restraints.

She sighed against Adrien’s lips as they kept coming back for more. They kissed their reunion, the relief of finding each other again, at last—unlike when he had come back from the dead earlier, these kisses tasted of the promise of more to come, because they knew they would stay together this time.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h45 after the reveal

“Okay. What’s going on between you two? You’ve been acting awkward since we’ve got here.”

What was going on. What was going on.

“We’re fine,” the lie rolled out of her tongue easily. “Really.”

Alya raised a brow. “Adrien?”

She saw him smiling from the corner of her eyes. He was a much better actor than her—always had been.

“It’s nothing. It’s… we just… we’re working on it.”

...And much more honest than she was, be it with his feelings or with his heart. Always had been.

“Well,” Nino said, “I hope it’s not too big of a deal and that you’ll get over it soon. You guys are the cutest out there.”

Marinette smiled painfully. She glanced at Adrien who was looking at her with soft eyes that she didn’t deserve considering her reaction, and she felt his warm hand timidly covering hers.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I have hopes we will. We always do.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, one year after the reveal

“You’re heavy,” Adrien gasped.

“That’s a rude thing to say to a lady,” Marinette commented from atop him, head resting on the arms she had folded on his chest. “And even more so to your girlfriend.”

He groaned and attempted to lift himself up. Fail. She was grinning at him and he pouted in fake-annoyance. “Not when said girlfriend is purposefully putting all her weight on you! I can’t breath!”

Marinette giggled and pressed herself further on him to which he let out a choked whimper, before pushing away from him after a few seconds, ending his suffocation.

“I could report you for attempting murder, you know,” he threatened with a finger. “‘Ladybug slips into teenage model Adrien Agreste’s room and proceeds to suffocate him’, now that would make the newspapers talk for months.”

She laughed and came back to hover over him. “‘And Adrien asked her to do it again’,” she smirked, and she bent down to peck his lips.

He couldn’t even argue with that.

He discreetly brought his hand close to where his head was lying to grab a pillow. When she pushed herself up and sat next to him, he quickly hit her head with it.

She gasped, betrayed and that sent him into a fit of laughter. She glared at him playfully, grabbed his other pillow, and swatted him way harder than he had.

“You’re dead, Kitty! You hear me?” she said, trying and failing not to laugh. “You’ve just signed your death contract!”

“No, my Lady, please I’m just a defenseless citizen!”

“I’ll knock you out with my yo-yo!” she threatened.

They fought again for a few minutes before stopping, Adrien breathless but Marinette only slightly out of breath due to being transformed.

“I hope your father won’t come in,” Marinette said.

“Don’t worry, if he or Nathalie come, you’ll just say you’re investigating here because, uh...because you suspect me of being Hawkmoth!”

She laughed. “Kitty, that’s such a stupid idea.”

“Why not?” Adrien wiggled his eyebrows. “After all, I do disappear during every akuma attack.”

Marinette smiled and crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as he steadied her with his hands on her hips. They lost themselves into each other’s eyes, faces close but not close enough to exactly touch.

“Then,” she murmured against his lips, and he felt his cheeks heating up. “I’ve come to seduce my enemy. Is it working?”

“I’d rather be your partner if that’s okay,” he whispered.

“Yes, but is it working Adrien?”

He chuckled—she didn’t even need to try, he’d always been too far gone when it came to her. “A bit too much.”

He kissed the proud and satisfied giggle from her lips.

[emsylcatac]

“You’re pretty”

Summary

“You’re pretty, Marinette.”

He says it casually, just like that. He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He says it as a fact, some unquestionable fact, and Marinette truly forgets how to breath this time.

Because his words hold such warmth and love and tenderness she’s not quite sure how to respond.

You’re pretty, Marinette. It sounds true to her ears just because of the way he says it. She isn’t even sure she ever wondered if Adrien found her pretty before.

But he does.

Read it on AO3

For @rosekasa following this post ♥

(Hope the English is alright, I wasn’t beta-read!)

* * * * *

“Could you pass a hair clamp on to me, please?”

Marinette tries to ignore the feeling of his arm against her as his hand appears in front of her. She swallows, once, praying he wouldn’t hear the sound.

“Sure,” she half-speaks as she reaches forward for the clamp and drops it in his open palm, careful not to brush his skin with hers.

He doesn’t seem to notice her nervousness as he thanks her enthusiastically, and she can see him clamping a handful of her hair in the mirror in front of her just as she can sense his hands running through them. It’s just hair, Marinette thinks, she shouldn’t feel more than something pulling at her scalp yet his touch travels through her entirely.

She sees Adrien bending to grasp the curling iron, before he takes a strand of her hair between his fingers.

“Tell me if it’s too hot or if I’m burning you,” his breath says on her neck.

Oh, it is too hot and Marinette feels her cheeks burning, and she can only hope the mirror won’t betray her. However, she can’t exactly tell him that.

“Okay,” she barely whispers.

She watches how Adrien skillfully rolls her hair around the iron, and waits a few seconds before releasing it all in a beautiful and perfect curl. Marinette resists the urge to pull on it and feel it bounce, not wanting to destroy his work or worse—brushing her finger with his.

Adrien then grabs a second strand of hair and repeats the same gestures as before, modeling a new curl to accompany the previous one, then a third, and a forth. She watches him do in silence, wondering how many times he’s done it before, when and with who.

She could ask him. She could. But she doesn’t know how to break the silence that is starting to weigh upon her.

When Adrien releases yet another curl, Marinette straightens up a little. She gives herself a pep-look in the mirror, and starts to count to five. At five, she’ll ask him the question.

One. Two. Three.

Adrien detaches her hair only to clamp some other on the top of her head, once again letting her feel his hands sending shivers on her scalp.

Five comes all too soon and Marinette takes a deep breath and holds it for one, two, five seconds before releasing it in a sigh as she chickens out, again.

She glances at Adrien to see him poking his tongue out in concentration and presses her lips in a thin line. She’ll count to ten this time, and at ten, she’ll talk. For real.

Adrien starts humming a song she doesn’t recognise, and she almost forgets her counting until he seems to realise what he’s doing and suddenly stops. She wishes he had continued as she thinks nine, ten and—

“Where did you learn to do that?”

She feels a little proud when Adrien smiles in the mirror, and a little relieved as the tension slowly eases up.

“With modelling, there’s all sorts of hairdressers around to prepare the models. I like watching them work, it’s weirdly fascinating,” he says. She wonders why it was so hard to ask him that. “One day, I asked this one who had looooong hair—her name was Cécile—if she could teach me how to do it. She just gave me the iron and sat on a chair and let me play with her hair how I wished.” He chuckles and shakes his head, as if recalling an old joke. “Let’s say it looked easier than it was. But she let me try again the day after, and the day after… Until I got the hang of it.” He shrugs with a smile, a little proud but a little shy at the same time.

“That’s amazing,” she comments, finding herself gaining confidence. “She sounds really nice.”

“She was,” Adrien enthuses. “It’s too bad she had to move in the south. But I suppose that’s how it is.”

Marinette nods, not knowing what else to add.

Adrien resumes his work on her hair, clamping and unclamping them then and there as he goes.

As the silence settles again, Marinette finds her mouth speaking against her own will. “You can sing again if you want. I don’t mind.”

Her eyes widdens comically in the mirror as she realises what she’s said, and Adrien startles and looks at her in the reflection. “You...you don’t?”

“I...no,” she finds herself saying. “I like...I like it.”

She’s rewarded with a bright smile, and a foreign kind of glint in his eyes as he answers. “Thanks. But you should sing with me too.”

He doesn’t let her the time to protest as he starts humming a popular song she knows she heard on the radio but can’t remember the name of.

When he glances at her insistently in the mirror, she understands he’s waiting for her. Shyly, she joins in the humming, mindful to not be louder than he was.

He seems satisfied as he smiles, resuming curling her hair. His voice reverberates in her body and chest as he hums close to her ear, and she lets her eyes close to enjoy the sound and the feel of him caressing her hair.

All too soon, his humming trails off and he turns the iron off and unplugs it before putting it back on its stand.

“Psssst, Marinette,” he whispers, prompting her eyes to open. “Do you also hum English songs when you don’t know the lyrics?”

She giggles. “Yes. But don’t tell anyone,” she whispers back.

She feels him chuckles as much as she hears him. “Me too. Otherwise I pretend I know the words but really I’m singing nonsense. Only when I’m alone with my piano, though.”

She is about to answer him back when she feels his hands in her hair, closer than before and her face promptly catches fire. She watches hypnotised as he runs his fingers through them, readjusting some rebel strands as he pleases, ruffling them so they look a little bit wilder and a little less polished. He smiles as he goes in the mirror, seemingly satisfied with whatever it is he’s making of her hair. She knows she’s gaping but she doesn’t bother to close her mouth.

Then, slowly, Adrien untangles his hands from her hair and let them come to rest on her shoulders instead. She sees his face coming next to hers on her left, his hair tingling her cheek and neck and she has to remember what it’s like to breath again. She wonders if he can see her eyes glued to him instead of herself, but if he does he doesn’t acknowledge it as he smiles tenderly at her reflection.

“You’re pretty, Marinette.”

He says it casually, just like that. He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He says it as a fact, some unquestionable fact, and Marinette truly forgets how to breath this time.

Because his words hold such warmth and love and tenderness she’s not quite sure how to respond.

You’re pretty, Marinette. It sounds true to her ears just because of the way he says it. She isn’t even sure she ever wondered if Adrien found her pretty before.

But he does.

“Don’t you agree?” he goes on, unaware of the effects he has on her. He squeezes her shoulders once as he says it, and Marinette wishes his hands could stay here forever, with the sound of his voice oh so close to her ear. It makes her want to be held closer by him and to hide from him at the same time, a weird mixture of sensations she can only dream to begin to understand.

It’s an easy question and a simple touch, and yet it makes her lose all her resteint.

“I...sure? Maybe?”

She hears him smile. He brings his hands around her face, with only the tips of his fingers touching her cheeks and jaw, a soft pressure she can barely sense. He tilts her head up, gently asking her to look at herself this time, to really look at herself.

“It’s not maybe, Marinette. You are.”

And he could have spoken loud and enthusiastically, but Adrien chose to murmur his words instead. He delivers them with such an admiration that Marinette feels, at this very moment, that she is falling in love with him. It makes her wonder how much more in love can someone be and how much place there’s in her heart to contain all of it.

Seeing her reflection being in love, she finds herself agreeing with him.

“I’m pretty,” she whispers.

Adrien grins at that. “You know what else is pretty?”

She bits back the ‘you’ she wants to say, and settles o a questioning frown instead.

Adrien’s fingers delicately slide from her face to her neck and hover above it, barely touching her skin. “Your smile,” he adds in a breath.

She barely has the time to gasp at hearing him speaking with a raw honesty she envies that she feels his fingers tickling her neck and squeals as a first laugh escapes her.

Adrien bursts into laughter, and decides to attack her ribs instead. She tries to wriggle out of his grasp, to turn around to face him as himself and not as his mirrored-self, but it’s too late; she managed to catch her smile and he just proved to her that she’s pretty, all carefree and joy spilling from her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she tells him once they’ve both calmed down.

“You’re welcome.” He frowns. “I didn’t even ask you if you liked your hair.”

She turns to the mirror, and runs a hand through her now messy, wild curls, repeating the motion his hands had done in her hair earlier and smiles.

“I love them.”

[emsylcatac]

A little push

Summary:

Alya asks Chat Noir to record a video of himself encouraging Marinette to confess...to Adrien.

Of course his mouth speaks on its own. Of course he says yes.

Of course his Lady is most likely sure to kill him.

...And of course Marinette feels like she's the one who's about to die.

Read it on AO3

Happy (very late) birthday to @janaikam ♥

I hope you’ll like this post-reveal pre-relationship fic!

A big thank you to Bren, Lisa & Alizeh for beta-reading this you’re all amazing!

* * * * *

“Pound it!”

Adrien looked into Marinette’s eyes as he said it and she did the same, giving him that soft smile of hers that never failed to make him feel better. They lingered a few seconds with their fists touching, searching each other’s eyes knowingly.

Even though it had been months since they’d discovered each other’s identities, they couldn’t help but share a special glance that said, ‘I know who you are now’.

They disconnected their fists and turned towards the victim of the day—a woman in her thirties—who was slowly gathering her bearings. Marinette walked towards her and helped her stand up, offering words of reassurance.

Adrien watched her fondly before joining her and giving the woman a pep talk himself, until she left, thanking them once again.

“Well, Kitty, we did good today, eh?” Marinette said, nudging him with her elbow.

Adrien laughed. “Of course we did, we’re unstoppable! But I think you should go, you’re about to detransform soon,” he winked.

“Olala, I should hurry! Wouldn’t want you to find out my oh-so secret identity super top secret!”

They both giggled, Adrien shaking his head. “I’ll see you in class on Monday,” she whispered, and dropped a kiss on his cheek before flying away.

He touched his cheek and stared at her retreating form. He was about to let yet one of his all too recurrent lovesick sigh when a voice called out to him.

“Pssst, Chat Noir!”

He turned his head, only to be met by Alya’s grinning face and waving hand. He beamed at her, noting that he still had enough time left if she wanted a small interview.

“Well well well, if that isn’t our ever-so always intrepid Ladyblogger!”

Alya took that as a sign that she could come and talk to him, laughing all the way.

“Please, call me Miss Ladyblogger, The Most Intrepid And Greatest Reporter Of All Time, and not to brag, also personal favourite citizen of our local heroes themselves, between you and me.”

“Oh, my bad,” Adrien chuckled. “What do you need of me? An interview? A selfie featuring my best winning smile? Or,” he dropped his voice conspiratorially, a hand around his mouth, “pictures of Ladybug falling in the fountain because she was scared of…a ladybug?”

Alya laughed. “Actually, I had a favour to ask from you, but if these pictures are still on the table… how much would you want for them?”

Adrien winked. “Give me a croissant and I’m your cat, if you don’t tell Ladybug about your sources, of course.”

She smirked. “Of course. It’s a deal. I’ll have your croissant same time, same place tomorrow.”

“Lovely. Now what was it you needed of me, before my time is up?”

“Oh. So this is gonna sound really weird but...Okay. So my best friend is a fan of yours; her name’s Marinette, I don’t know if you’ve heard of her?”

Adrien bit back a laugh and tapped his bell. “Rings a bell, must have met her once or twice. Admirable citizen, just like you!”

“Why, thank you,” she said, falsely flattered. “Well. So Marinette is trying to hype herself up to confess to the boy she loves—”

Oh.

“—but she’s always had troubles, you know? Except now she told me that she really wanted to do it, and I’m so proud of her! She has been in love with our friend Adrien for so long now—”

OH.

Adrien’s brain short-circuited after that, and Alya was talking, and probably saying very interesting things, but what was it about Marinette loving him?!

“—So, could you do that? It would really mean a lot to her! ...Chat Noir?”

He startled, trying to reconnect with reality, and was met with Alya’s confused frown.

“Sorry,” he said—because yes he could still speak, which was great, wasn’t it?—“I didn’t quite catch that last part. Could you repeat, please?”

“Oh! Yes, so I was wondering—since I’ve heard from akuma victims and Ladybug herself that you give the best pep talks and since Marinette holds you high in her esteem— if you would agree to give her a few encouraging words while I record you? I want it to be a little surprise for her.”

Oh. Now that was a funny situation.

...A very, very embarrassing situation he had no idea how to get out from.

Was it true? Was Marinette really in love with him? It made sense, in a way, he reasoned.

It would explain a lot of things.

But what would Marinette think if she saw him, Chat Noir him, making a video for her to confess to him, Adrien him?!

...She would probably hate him forever.

“...Chat Noir?” Alya’s voice brought him back on Earth once again. She was looking at him with what he assumed were the best pleading puppy eyes she could muster, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t working. Now he knew why Marinette couldn’t say ‘no’ to Alya and vice-versa.  “Could you do it? Please please please please pleeeaaaase? I’ll bring you another croissant! And Marinette really deserves it, you can’t deny her that—”

“Sure.” He heard his voice speak. Oh no. “I would love to!” Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been gifted with the ability to talk.

Alya let out a happy squeal, pulling out her camera. It almost convinced him that he had made the right decision in agreeing. Almost. “Thank you, Chat Noir, you’re the best! Marinette is going to be so happy after seeing it, no way she won’t nail her confession!”

“Hahaha…yeah...no way…”

Marinette was going to be mad at him. He didn’t know whether he should warn her or not; call her or not.

But one thing he was sure of, he was not at all ready to face her after that.

“So when you’re ready,” he gave an awkward thumbs up, “on the count of three… One...two...three...aaaand action!”

Adrien stared at the red indicator light on Alya’s camera, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It was a terrible feeling. If a deer miraculous existed, he was sure very glad that he wasn’t its owner.

Alya nodded at him, reminding him that he had to speak.

“So,” he brought a hand to his neck, rubbing it awkwardly, “um, hello, M-Marinette, as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir! I’m here to tell you that...to tell you that...that…” He took a deep breath, trying to summon confidence he wasn’t sure he possessed at the time, and looked straight into the camera. “I’m here to tell you that I believe in you. I know you’re an amazing person and—”

* * * * *

“—you’ve been proving that you were very brave the few times that I met you. What I mean is...trust in yourself, and I’m sure your confession to...to that boy…”

“—Adrien,” Alya’s voice added in a harsh whisper.

“...Right. That boy A-Adrien will be very...very happy to hear it. I mean, you saying it, yeah he’ll be, um. Overjoyed. I think. Probably. So good luck and, uh...be happy.”

Marinette stared at her phone screen as the video ended, stopping on Chat Noir’s awkward finger guns with a face that clearly screamed like he just wanted to drown himself into the Seine, a sentiment she was currently sharing with him.

She couldn’t move for the next few minutes, replaying his words in her head. She didn’t dare to press “play” again and feel the embarrassment she was already feeling more and more a second time.

It was sweet of Alya, really. And well thought out. And Marinette probably would have loved the attention if the person she was planning on confessing to wasn’t the one encouraging her in this stupid video.

“Marinette?” she faintly heard Tikki’s voice calling out to her.

“I’m gonna die. No, wait… I’m already dead.” And with that, she dropped her phone on the floor and threw herself unceremoniously onto her bed, an arm covering her face.

“Marinette, this is great!” Tikki squealed. Marinette violently pulled her arm away to look at her. “Chat Noir said Adrien would be overjoyed to hear your confession!”

“Tikki. He said that ‘Adrien’,” she quoted the name with her fingers, “will probably be overjoyed. Keyword: probably. Keyface: the desperate one he was throwing at the camera screaming ‘please let me die’. How is any of this great, uh?”

Tikki didn’t answer right away. “Well,” she spoke in a timid voice, “if you’re both gonna die, then at least you’ll be together?”

Marinette knew Tikki was always trying to be optimistic, but this was a little much.

Tikki sighed. “Listen, I know it looks embarrassing—”

“—understatement of the century—”

“—but now you have the hardest part of your confession already done! All you have to do is call him or wait for him to call and—”

Marinette gasped and straightened up suddenly. “HIM TO CALL!” she screamed, and grabbed her phone.

When it was clear that no new notifications had appeared, she released a loud sigh to alleviate the pressure and fell back on her bed dramatically.

“Tikki. He hasn’t called. Or left any messages.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to do it?”

“Maybe.” Maybe not.

Marinette continued to stare at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts running through her head, all catastrophic.

“Tikki,” she called again. “He’s never gonna love me, isn’t he?”

“You know that’s not true.”

Marinette ignored her kwami. She grabbed her Chat Noir plushie that was snuggled up against her cat pillow, held it in front of her, and caressed the side of its ear and hair with one hand.

“All I want is to get lost in his emerald green eyes,” she almost sniffed, “pet his cute little kitty ears,” she rubbed the doll’s cat ear between her fingers, “and...and kiss his adorable kitty nose,” she bopped its nose, “and hold him close to me,” and she hugged the doll close to her chest.

“Marinette, don’t you think that you’re being a little dramatic here?” Tikki’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.

She glared at her, straightened up and shoved the doll into the kwami’s face.

“Tikki. There is nothing dramatic when it comes to this boy and my feelings for him.” She brought back the plushie close to her and lowered her voice. “I love you Adrien,” she murmured, before dropping a kiss on its forehead with a loud mwah.

Tikki sighed. “Well, now that you just practiced your confession and are ready for next time you see him, off to bed!”

Marinette pouted and gave her a distraught look.

Tikki’s expression turned kinder and more tender. “I’m sure everything is going to be perfect, Marinette. You don’t have to worry.”

“I hope you’re right, Tikki,” she answered while the kwami nuzzled her cheek. “I hope you’re right.”

* * * * *

“Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” Marinette asked again.

“Nope,” Alya grinned. “This is going to be fun, I promise.”

Marinette groaned playfully, the bag of croissants her best friend had asked her to bring swinging at the rhythm of her pace. It was a nice morning, and it was sunny for once in Paris. Marinette might not have slept a lot that night, but Alya’s overjoyed mood was lifting up her spirit.

...Until a realisation hit her and she suddenly stopped walking. “You’re not going to bring me to see Adrien, are you? Because you, dragging me on a Sunday morning, with croissants...”

Alya just laughed. “Of course not, silly. That’s you and only you who will have to decide when you meet up with him. I think I’ve done my part already,” she winked.

“Your par—oh. The video.”

“Yes, the video, the last little push you needed to have the most perfect and grand love confession that love history itself has never heard!” Alya dramatically said while making wide gestures with her arms, which would have amused Marinette greatly were it not for the tight knot she could still feel in her stomach from the previous day.

She forced a laugh. “Hahahahahaaa, yes it was very nice of…of Chat Noir to accept and…”

“Oh my god, Marinette,” Alya interrupted her. “Chat Noir was such a sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting him to accept but it was really nice of him.”

“Ooooh, yes yes, veeeery very nice of him, he really shouldn’t have,” Marinette nervously nodded.

“Right?! He probably had tons of other things to do but he still chose to take the time for us,” she kept on gushing.

Marinette thought she must have nodded dumbly after that. Talking about Chat Noir and the video just reminded her that he knew now and that she had no idea about what he thought of it.

That she had yet to officially confess—that she had yet to face him.

And somehow, the fact that he knew that she was in love with him when she hadn’t even told him herself, well… It felt more stressful than any surprise confession she could have planned.

“...and he even said that you were an admirable citizen, by the way,” she heard Alya’s voice talking to her again.

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you! And me too, but that goes without saying,” she fake-bragged. “But come on, we’re almost there.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her in a small run, eyes glinting, and Marinette had no other choice but laugh at her best friend’s antics.

They passed by a small shop Marinette recognised as one that was destroyed the previous day during the akuma attack. They turned around a corner she knew would leave them were they defeated that akuma and—

“He’s already here!” Alya gasped.

—Chat Noir was casually leaning back against a wall, seemingly lost in thoughts and inspecting his claws.

...And all of Marinette’s panic came back full force in the span of a second. She was not ready. She was so, so not ready to meet him just yet.

She unknowingly gripped the bag of croissants and Alya’s hand tighter, using the latter as an anchor.

“Hoy, Chat Noir!” Alya waved at him.

Adrien turned his head.

Smiled and waved back.

Looked at her.

Dropped his hand and smile, eyes widening in horror.

Clearly, he too hadn’t expected her. She was probably looking at him with the same horrified look on her face and cursed her inability to pretend that everything was perfectly fine on command.

Luckily, Alya didn’t seem to notice the tension between them.

“I’m glad to see you remember our little deal,” she joked.

Adrien, bless him, quickly schooled his expression into a more neutral one and turned to Alya.

“Of course. A promise is a promise.”

“I’ve got your croissants,” she went on. “All warm of today from the one and only Dupain-Cheng bakery!”

“Wooohhh,” Marinette could hear the forced enthusiasm in his voice, “that sounds de-li-cious!”

He quickly glanced at her, and she averted her eyes immediately.

A nudge from Alya reminded her that she was the one with the bag of croissants and that she was supposed to hand it to him.

She all but shoved it into his face.

Great.

“Oops, err, sorry, here,” she apologised, dropping the bag in his hands instead.

“It’s fine, thanks,” he answered quietly.

She didn’t dare to look at him. Maybe he was looking at her, or maybe he was avoiding her, too. It felt awkward.

It felt so wrong.

Wouldn’t he look overjoyed if he was in love with her and just learned she loved him back? Wouldn’t he?

Alya’s voice pulled her out of her spiralling thoughts. “So, do you have my merchandise, hm?”

Marinette looked up to Adrien who seemed to be startled from his own thoughts, too. “Of course,” he zipped down his pocket, “here. It’s all on this USB key.”

He gave Alya a wink for good measure.

“Thank you, you’re the best!”

“What’s on it?” Marinette asked, more to pretend that she was invested in whatever was happening than out of real curiosity.

“Ah-a! That’s for me to know and you to never found out,” Alya wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh by the way,” she gave a small movement of the head in Adrien’s direction, “what did you think of the video?”

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror and she looked into Adrien’s eyes to see him looking back at her absolutely...terrified. She couldn’t find a better word to describe it.

He looked….he looked terrified.

...He really had moved on, hadn’t he? She was too late, and the idea that he would have to reject her terrified him, wasn’t it?

Marinette tried to control her emotion and keep the tears she could already feel prickling her eyes from escaping.

“The...the video?” she said timidly. “The one you sent me yesterday with Chat Noir?”

Alya nodded enthusiastically. Adrien was offering a tentative smile but she could see how much it was costing him to do it.

“Oh yes I hope… I hope it’s gonna help you,” he murmured in a trembling voice.

...She couldn’t do it right now. Internally cursing herself for being a stupid coward or some other name she didn’t even had in mind, she took a deep breath and summoned the cheeriest voice she could muster.

“Ooooh hahahaha, yes it was very nice of you and um, and a good surprise! But pfffeeew, it wasn’t necessary at all, I mean! I loved that you took your time for me but… I’m totally over Adrien, hehe. It wasn’t even a big big crush I had you know, just a tiny tiny little feeling, but now it’s all gone into the wind, wooooshh!”

She could feel Alya’s incredulous eyes on her, and saw the small smile Adrien had been trying to maintain completely disappear.

“But… Marinette, what are you saying? Just yesterday you were telling me on the phone that you were head over heels for Adrie—”

“Exactly,” Marinette cut, nodding, “yesterday is suuuuuch a long time ago, things have totally changed now!”

Her statement was met with silence, so she looked awkwardly from Adrien to Alya, and to Adrien again.

Adrien, who looked like a part of his world had just crumbled in front of his very eyes.

“Well,” he said, voice quivering, and she suddenly felt like she was falling from very, very high, “it’s okay.”

It was not.

“I’m glad to know that you’ve made peace with your feelings,”

Oh god no, please no.

“and that you don’t really need my help to...to confess.”

No, no, no...Everything, but not this.

“Chat Noir…” Alya tried to speak, sounding apologetic.

Adrien gave her a wobbly smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m always happy to help, even if things don’t always work out as we hope they would. And it was fun to spend a little time with you two.”

Marinette wanted to speak, but no words would come. She was sure her tears were visible and she tried to convey what she wanted to say with her eyes instead except...she didn’t even know what exactly she wanted to tell him.

Probably it was why she couldn’t form a sound.

Adrien’s eyes met hers for a split second, and he turned around, his back to them.

“Well, if you’ll excuse-me, I have somewhere else to be. I hope you two have a nice day.”

“Chat Noir, wait—”

But he extended his baton and soon disappeared behind a building.

“Wait…” Marinette whispered again, staring at the spot where he had just vanished.

“...Marinette?” Alya tentatively called out to her.

She turned to her best friend and let her tears free to roll on her cheeks.

“Alya... Why do I keep messing up? Why do I keep messing everything up?”

“Oh, girl… It’s okay.”

Alya pulled her in a hug and Marinette let herself cry.

“No, no it’s not. It’s… It’s not. Why did I say all of this? None of it is even true,” she sobbed.

Alya rubbed circles on her back and let her talk her heart out, listening patiently as always.

“You panicked at the idea of admitting again to someone that you loved Adrien?” she finally asked.

It wasn’t exactly that, but Marinette couldn’t really say why, so she just nodded into her neck.

Alya sighed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked Chat Noir for this video. I thought it would be a good idea, but…”

Marinette shook her head frantically. “It was a great idea Alya, it’s not your fault.” And she meant it: she would have loved the video had Ladybug and Chat Noir not been her and Adrien. “It’s just me, I don’t know why I’m like this. And now, I hurt Chat Noir,” she whispered.

“Forget about Chat Noir right now,” Alya said. “It’s you who’s hurting. I’m sure he’ll understand, he said he had been happy to help anyway. And if you want, we can make a little video to tell him it was a joke,” she teased.

Marinette managed a giggle through her tears, and broke off the hug. Alya kept her hands on her shoulders.

“But seriously. Are you sure it’s only the Adrien thing that is making you cry? I feel like you’ve been more stressed than usual lately.”

She shrugged; she didn’t even know the answer to that.

“You know what?” Alya said, tone a little less consoling and a little cheerier. “I declare today as a girls day, and a make-Marinette-feel-better-day. So we’re going to have a nice lunch in a nice little restaurant, and then we’ll go to the cinema, how does that sound?”

Marinette finished to wipe her tears. “That sounds great Alya, thank you so much. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend, you know... You’re always there for me.”

Alya laughed and gave her a side-hug, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Oh you could. You could have been me and have you as a best friend.”

That made her laugh. She still had to talk to Adrien, but for now she was glad to forget a little about him.

* * * * *

It had taken quite some time for Marinette and Adrien to get used to each other’s identities. They had been fumbling with their words a lot, overthinking each of their moves. It was a sort of out-of-body experience to merge two persons you viewed as two different entities into only one, and it had taken some time to really click in their mind and adjust their newfound dynamic.

So yes, it hadn’t been short, but they had gotten there—they had found a common, safe compromise.

But now, as Marinette anxiously watched Adrien’s back as he was packing his bag before leaving for lunch, it felt as if all this progress had been destroyed and they were not even back to square one, but to square minus ten.

She purposefully took more time than necessary to clean her table, nodding to Alya to let her know to go ahead and that she would join them at the cafeteria in a few.

And soon it was only the both of them left in the classroom.

Starting a conversation with Adrien had finally felt natural, like starting one with Chat Noir before they knew each other’s identities, yet it had never felt harder than now.

Thankfully, he was the one who took the plunge.

“Marinette? Can I… Can I ask about what happened this weekend?”

His tone wasn’t unkind, far from it, but it was also firm.

“This...this weekend?” she stuttered, cursing herself for pretending she didn’t know what he was referring to.

His expression crumpled a little and he sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. Listen, I’m gonna be honest with you—”

The knot she had in her stomach tightened and she could feel her heart beat faster—the kind of beat that wasn’t due to a sudden surge of love, but the one that was fearful of what the turn of events might be.

“—but sometimes, you confuse me. I mean, it got better now that we know, but there are times I don’t know what you think and…” he sighed again, and ruffled his hair.

Marinette kept staring at him; he was right.

“And this weekend, I finally thought I had figured it out, but then you…”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Adrien shook his head, looking like he was the one feeling sorry. He took a step towards her, and brought a hand to her face, gently putting some strands of hair behind her ear. “It feels like you don’t trust me with your feelings, my Lady,” he almost breathed. “I’ve always told you how I felt, or if something was bothering me...even if I’ve been more than clumsy about it at times.”

Marinette said nothing.

“I’m just asking you for the same honesty.”

He dropped his hand from her face but kept maintaining her gaze. His look was intense, expectant, but oh so disheartened.

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled again, because words still wouldn’t work.

His expression turned to a resigned one, and her heart broke a little.

“You know that you’re my best friend and that I’ll never think badly of you no matter what?” he said, before turning around.

“Adrien...wait—”

His phone rang.

“It’s the Gorilla. He’s waiting for me. I’ll see you after lunch,” and with that, he exited the classroom, leaving Marinette even more frustrated with herself than she had been before.

* * * * *

It’s precisely because something is important that it’s important to say, no matter what.

She had lost count of how many times she had repeated this in her head ever since Chat Noir had told it to her. She had often been close, so close to follow it and say what was on her heart.

So close... But she had never achieved it.

Marinette took a deep breath. Exhale.

Adrien was in the locker room, alone. All the other students had gone back home now, but a fencing lesson after class had held him up.

She had waited the entire lesson—she knew he would come by the locker room at the end to take some school books.

“Adrien?” she called timidly.

He stopped what he was doing, a hand on the locker door. He didn’t turn around.

How many times had she imagined confessing to him?

How many times had she planned her confession to him?

How many times had it all failed…?

Confessions don’t plan themselves, she figured. They just happen when they happen.

“I know you’re probably still frustrated with me, but...there are things I want to tell you.”

Hello Marinette; as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir.

“First of all...I’m sorry. For yesterday; for being confusing to you. For being a coward,” she whispered the last word.

I’m here to tell you that I believe in you.

“The truth is… I’ve always been afraid to open my heart, and especially to you.”

She couldn’t read his expression, but he hadn’t moved, his back still to her.

She took a step forward.

“Which is stupid, of course, because you’re my partner and there’s probably no one I trust more than you.”

You’re an amazing person—

Another step.

“But I think that’s because you’re so important to me that I’m scared to be honest with you. Because once I tell you…”

—and you’ve been proving that you were very brave.

“Once I tell you, you’ll know everything about me. And that’s terrifying.”

Trust in yourself.

“You told me once that it was because something was important to say that it was important to say it. No Matter what. Well. I have something important to tell you.”

She took another step, so she was standing right behind him now.

I’ll be happy to hear it.

“I love you, Adrien,” she whispered, and hugged him from behind.

You, saying it. I’ll be overjoyed.

“I love you,” she repeated louder into his back.

Good luck and…

She untangled herself from him. “I love you,” she said firmly, confident, one last time.

...Be happy.

Adrien turned around.

And he had the brightest smile she’s ever seen on his face, tears glistening at the corner of his eyes. Just like that, hers that she hadn’t noticed forming ran on her cheek and she let out a choked giggle. She threw herself at him, her arms around his neck.

He caught her easily and hugged her back just as tightly.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you too. So, so much.”

She hugged him tighter, and put her hand in his hair, massaging it.

They stayed like that a few minutes, gently swaying.

Then, Marinette loosened her grip on him to look into his eyes. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his arm to his hand to link her fingers through it, but kept her other one in his hair.

She could almost feel him shivering.

They nodded at each other, knowing what they wanted.

And then their lips met. Softly, lingering but not pushing.

Marinette was aware of everything that was him, that felt him: his hair, that she was still caressing with her hand. His arm around her, with his hand slowly running up and down her back.

His other hand, still tangled with hers, slightly pressing more and more as the kiss went on. It sent waves of shivers throughout her body.

And his lips and breath on hers.

They broke the kiss, giddy smiles on their faces. Marinette grabbed his face then and kissed his nose.

Adrien laughed. “What was that about?”

“I wanted to kiss your kitty nose.”

He snorted. She giggled, and climbed on her tiptoes once more to kiss his laugh.

Once. Twice.

Three times.

He kissed her back each time.

“I’m sorry about this video. It must have put you in a tight spot,” she said after the third kiss.

Adrien whined. “I am the one who’s sorry. I had no idea what to do and I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I thought I was going to kill myself when I saw it,” Marinette exclaimed. “And then Tikki said that at least we’d be happy and dead together!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “I’d rather be happy and alive with you for now, if that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded frantically. “Oh yes me too. It was a good video though. It did help me in the end.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah. And from now… I’ll make sure that you know what I feel about you.”

He gave her one of his soft smiles, one of her favourite smiles of his. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

And she sealed it with another kiss.

.

.

.

_____________

Bonus scene:

Adrien watched Marinette out of the corner of his eyes. She was calm, sipping her tea.

But something was wrong. He could feel it.

Maybe it was in the way she was so casually drinking, almost ignoring him. Maybe it was because she still hadn't reacted to the pictures of her, Ladybug her, falling head first in the fountain that Alya had released the previous day—with the bright grand title "Ladybug vs ladybug? It's more likely than you think."

Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Marinette brought her tea one last time to her lips, and put the cup on the desk.

"You feeling good Chaton, uh?" she asked in a calm voice. Calm, but with a tone that either meant "all is good" or "all is wrong".

It was terrifying. He gulped.

"Yes?"

She nodded. "Good."

His right leg was rapidly bouncing up and down in anticipation. Marinette grabbed her phone and tapped a few things on it, before putting it back on the table.

His phone rang.

She was looking at her nails, casually rubbing them with her thumb. Adrien raised a brow and looked at his own phone.

One new message. From Marinette.

A link. And a caption that just said: '😘'

He clicked on it. A tab to the Ladyblog opened.

He felt a wave of dread slowly washing over him as the page loaded.

And suddenly, in bright, grand title was written:

"Five Times Chat Noir Was Scared By A Passing-By Cat, And The One Time He Fell Into The Seine."

[emsylcatac]

if you're still doing the prompt fics... number 4 with ladrien?? (only if you'd like to <3)

Hiii I’m answering this very very late and I haven’t posted a fic in a while that’s because I’m a clown taking too long on the secret Santa one for which I’m very (very) late lolol but here it iiiis :D (also sorry for my mistakes I wasn’t beta-read haha)

4 · Person A moving person B’s hair from their face while they’re asleep || Ladrien

She probably shouldn’t be here, she mused.

What a weird thing it was to stand into one’s room while they were asleep—even more so, while they weren’t aware of your presence. Usually, she wasn’t one to invade someone’s privacy.

But she had finally found him, so...who could really blame her?

Ladybug looked around in the small apartment. It was nothing extravagant; the kind any student or person working for the first time and living alone would get in Paris. The kind someone who’d want to be discreet would chose to live in, to make themselves unnoticed. Forgotten.

But she hadn’t forgotten him.

Ladybug silently walked towards the double bed, that she guessed would be transformed as a couch during the day, and on which a mop of blond hair could be seen.

A thin line was illuminating his face, reflecting the city lights that a space between two curtains was letting in. She worried for a second that her shadow would wake him up, but it seemed that he must have been tired enough to remain unaware of anything that wasn’t a part of his dream.

Her heart was hammering louder and louder in her chest with each steps she took, chanting it’s him, it’s him, it’s him in a fastening rhythm.

Three years looking for her partner, and here he laid, face bared but for a few rebel strands of hair before her.

She took in a shaky breath and let herself fall on her knees before him, biting back a sob.

She'd love to say that his sleeping face looked peaceful—but she could see the marks of a boy who had seen and suffered far too much at a too young age reflecting on it as buried scars. His eyes were closed too tight and his brows too knitted to fool her.

How had she not realised sooner?

Slowly, she brought a hand to his forehead.

“Mon Chaton,” she whispered shakily, barely audible. “My beautiful Kitty. You’ve been so, so brave.”

Delicately, she pushed his hair out of his face, her fingers gently caressing it in a feather-like touch. Maybe it was her imagination, but she felt like he looked a little bit more relaxed and a little bit less anxious at her touch.

“But now I’m here. So it’s time to let yourself be weak for once, okay?” She allowed herself to lightly kiss his forehead. “This time it’s my turn to be your anchor.”

Adrien didn’t stir, still unaware of her presence. She let her hand run through his hair one last time.

She should probably go now; it had been stupid of her to hope he’d been awake at a time like this anyway.

Instead, she took advantage of the size the bed offered and climbed on it as discreetly as possible. She laid behind him, gently nuzzled against his back and wrapped an arm around his waist.

She felt one of his arm shift, and soon enough Adrien had taken her hand in his and brought them close to his chest. His soft contented sigh followed by his regular, steady breathing let her know that if his action had been unconscious, her affection had been much needed.

She smiled against his neck. There would probably be freaking outs later in the morning, when Adrien would realise his former superhero partner had glued herself to him in his sleep, but for now, she didn’t care.

Ladybug deeply breathed in his scent once before lulling herself to sleep, the ache in her heart from three years earlier finally gone.

[emsylcatac]

I was in an Adrinette mood lately so have a silly fluffy Adrinette reveal fic for tonight! (again a big thank you to Bren & Alizeh for correcting my English hahaha)

Read it on AO3

* * * * *

“Can I borrow your ring?”

Adrien’s eyes snapped open. He had been about to fall asleep, sitting with his back against a tree and Marinette’s head resting in his lap, but now he was wide awake and not ready to rest calmly any time soon anymore.

“My ring?” he sputtered.

“Yes, your ring.”

Marinette kept her eyes on his hand, caressing it with her fingers, massaging it a little at times. He would have enjoyed it if she hadn’t so casually asked for his miraculous—not that she knew it was.

“Why would you want my ring?” he asked slowly after a pause; it wasn’t that he thought Marinette would steal it, but he was curious as to why she was taking an interest in it all of a sudden.

She kissed the tips of his fingers. “I don’t know. I like wearing your stuff.”

He relaxed a little and chuckled. “You’re already wearing my sweater.”

“Which is very comfy, by the way.”

She mimicked snuggling up into his dark sweater that she was wearing and he couldn’t help but smile fondly at her.

“A ring isn’t comfy, though.”

Marinette smiled at him and slightly pressed her fingers on his ring while letting her thumb caress the finger wearing it up and down.

“I would make wearing it comfy,” she said.

Adrien laughed and bopped her nose. “I have no doubt about that, but let’s not try with this one, okay?”

She pouted at him and took his hand back in hers, and circled his ring with her index.

“If you don’t let me borrow it, you’ll have to give me back my winter hat. The pink one.”

“Hey!” he said indignantly. “No. I love that hat. It has a fluffy and glittery pompom.” He bopped it to emphasise his point.

She giggled. “You’re wearing it so often and it’s not even winter.”

“More reason to keep it, I wear it more than you do!”

If he were smart enough, he could make her forget about the ring and drive the conversation away from it. There was only so much teasing could do before he had to really rack his brain for a plausible excuse as to why exactly he couldn’t lend her his ring.

Talking about the winter hat Marinette had lent him seemed like a good plan.

Marinette was smiling softly at him now. He let himself drown in her gaze a little, until she dramatically extended her arms towards him.

“Help me sit, Adrien!”

He snorted. “No.”

“Whaaat?” she whined. “I thought you were a gentleman!”

“Maybe. But you’re cute lying down in my lap so I want to keep you there a little longer.”

She blushed and bit her lip, looking conflicted. “Even if I just wanted to kiss you?”

Well, he couldn’t really argue with that. Mentally patting himself on the back for driving all her thoughts away from his ring, he finally relented and helped her sit up in his lap instead.

She brought a hand to his cheek and caressed it with her thumb, looking at him with eyes that didn’t leave him with much doubt as to her feelings. He brought her closer to him, his left arm securely wrapped around her waist.

“You know that I love you, right?” she whispered against his lips.

He smiled at the declaration. “Yeah… Yeah I know. And I, you.”

She giggled while capturing his lips with hers. Adrien really liked kissing Marinette, but he loved being kissed by her—she had this delicious way of being paradoxically shy but bold, gentle but firm, and controlled but wild.

As he was drowning at the end of her lips, he felt the fingers of her free hand tentatively lace through his.

It felt nice.

So he let her do it and shivered at the way her fingers tenderly stroked his, before carefully sliding away from his hand.

Marinette broke the kiss and he opened his eyes, still dazed, to meet hers that were full of mirth and—

“Aha!” she exclaimed. “Now I got your ring!”

Adrien’s eyes snapped to the ring she was now slipping on her finger, his ring, his now very much light pink ring and oh no.

He must have had a wide-eyed panicked face because Marinette’s expression suddenly turned apologetic.

“O-oh no, Adrien I’m sorry it was a joke I—wait. Wasn’t it sliver before?”

“I—” ...what? What could he reply to that? ‘I was so sure it was silver before too, Marinette! Wow we must both be colour blind, funny right?’ or ‘It’s a magic ring that changes colour depending on your mood! You know, the cheap ones you buy in tourist shops? Oh, why is it always silver for me? Because it’s as grey as my mood, courtesy of my dad, nothing to worry about!’

(Maybe this one excuse could work, all things considered).

But before he could voice any of it, Marinette frowned.

“Wait a minute. I’ve seen this somewhere before.”

Adrien startled. “You—you have?”

She took a sharp intake of breath and turned her gaze away from his ring to stare right at his face, an unspoken “no way” drawing at her lips that Adrien didn’t know what to make of.

She brought a tentative hand to his face, grazing it but not touching it, as if afraid something would change if she did.

Adrien didn’t dare move nor speak during all this time, in a way hypnotised by her actions and in another not knowing how to react to this turn of events.

She cast a furtive glance behind her, then took a sharp intake of breath and looked straight into his eyes.

“Plagg,” she murmured—and if Adrien’s eyes weren’t wide before, they definitely were now— “claws out.”

If he had had inspiration to think, and more importantly, to act, Adrien should probably have snatched the ring back from her hands the moment he had realised she had taken it.

But Adrien had panicked and Adrien wasn’t known to act smartly when panicked.

Now all he could do was watch and gape helplessly as his girlfriend transformed right in front of his eyes and looked like—

“Eeeeeh?”

She looked like Marinette. With the black cat miraculous.

...Ladybug. With the black cat miraculous.

He blinked. She blinked.

Oh.

It was her, wasn’t it?

He didn’t know if he was breathing too hard, or not at all; if he was hallucinating—dreaming—or not.

They kept staring at each other silently, though Adrien had no idea for how long—not that he cared about time at that moment.

Even if he hadn’t been expecting Marinette to transform right after stealing his ring, Adrien had even less been prepared to see a familiar masked face in her place. One that he had seen only once, and that his brain was still struggling to realise and piece.

But the image it was slowly coming with was one of the happiest he’d seen.

“Um,” he finally managed to speak, “kiss me again?”

With eyes still incredulously wide, and a fierce blush spreading on her cheeks, she yanked him by the collar and did just that. Hard.

[emsylcatac]

10 + Adrienette 👀

Hello it’s been a while since I haven’t done these and I was inspired by yours today 👀

Thank you @jattendschaton​ for beta-reading this ♥

Read it on AO3

10 · Person A holding person B’s hands because they’re cold || Adrinette

Pockets.

She should have remembered the existence of pockets. As an amateur fashion designer, she feels that she can only be angry at herself.

Marinette scowls at Adrien’s hand that she cannot see because it’s safely tucked inside the wide, treacherous pocket of his trenchcoat.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” she asks.

He smiles stupidly, blissfully unaware of her turmoil. “Yes, I’m sure, you don’t have to worry!”

She hopes he doesn’t see the big puff of hot breath in the cold escaping her lips as she sighs disappointingly.

She glances again at his hand, at his stupid pocket that’s lucky enough to keep it warm. “And your hands? You’re sure they’re not getting cold?”

He rolls his eyes with a chuckle . “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry, Bug. These pockets are really great; they don’t look like it, but they’re very fluffy and soft on the inside!”

Ah. Well. If they’re fluffy and soft on the inside, what are her hands and woolen gloves to compete with Adrien’s really great pockets?

“See for yourself, if you want,” he goes on enthusiastically, taking away his delicate hand to open up his pocket for her.

“It’s okay,” Marinette answers with a tight smile. She isn’t going to shake hands with her current enemy. Especially since the object of their fight isn’t even here to share the space with her. “I believe you.”

Adrien shrugs, putting his hand back inside. “As you wish. They’re very comfortable, though, your loss.”

She tries to chuckle. “I don’t feel like taking off my glove just to feel your pocket.”

Adrien sighs. “Yeah… I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to lose mine.” He shakes his head, making a few snowflakes stuck in his hair fall on his shoulders.

Marinette says nothing. She could tell him that he is, in fact, not stupid, and that loosing his gloves isn’t his fault. But that would mean risking to admit that she’s the one who took them just so his hands could be cold.

Just so she could take them in hers, and rub them until they’re warm.

Just so she could bring them to her lips and blow on them with her hot breath, so it would warm up his cheeks too. (And hers. Always hers.)

And maybe if she’s lucky or brave enough, she could kiss the back of his hands, his palms, and kiss him whole, really.

But Marinette isn’t lucky because Adrien has pockets and she isn’t brave enough to tell him not to use them.

When she becomes a designer, she thinks, she’ll ban the existence of pockets. They’re a love-killer, she decides.

They continue their walk in Montmartre in the direction of the small Christmas market, Adrien pointing out some funny shop names to her or running after unfortunate pigeons to make them fly away. To avoid his runny nose getting worse, he says.

It’s true that the light snow falling and dusting the ground has given them red noses, and Marinette is glad that she thought of taking tissues with her.

One snowflake falls on her upper lip and she licks it to take the cold away. She wishes Adrien would have kissed it. Maybe if he didn’t have pockets, by now, he would have done it naturally. She would have liked it.

Instead, she looks at her worn out gloves that she had knitted a couple of years ago. They barely keep her hands warm now, and maybe if she pulls a little on that woollen thread, just a little, a hole could appear on her index.

Marinette is stubborn and when she has a plan, she sees it through to the end. Even if there’s a pocket between her hand and Adrien’s.

So she pulls on the thread, just a little, just enough so it gives away.

Adrien is talking but she doesn’t hear him as a small victorious smile stretches across her lips.

“Adrien,” she interrupts him innocently. “I have a hole in my glove.”

He stops talking and turns to her, frowning in worry. It’s almost cute, really.

It’s very cute, actually, the way he brings his face closer to the gloved finger she’s holding up.

And then finally, finally, he deigns to take his hands away from his pockets just so he can inspect the hole better.

“Oh, it’s quite big,” he says. “Is it making your hands cold?”

She flutters her eyelashes and pouts a little. “Yes, it is.”

He looks into her eyes, clearly worried for her. “I wish I could have lent you my gloves, but well…”

She pouts harder.

“...Maybe we can buy some new ones on the way? They must be selling gloves at the market and we’re almost there!”

She almost sighs. “I think I have a better idea. You said your pockets were warm?”

Adrien blinks. “Oh. Yes, I’m stupid. I can let you borrow my coat and—”

“No!” she cuts him off. “No, you’re going to get cold and…your hands must be freezing now.”

She takes off her glove and puts it in her own coat. She smiles at him and tries to not shiver—not from the cold, but from the excitement and the nervousness spreading through her.

She can see Adrien’s eyes widening and an ‘oh’ drawing on his lips in understanding as she takes his hand in hers and brings them in his wide, warm and fluffy pocket. He was right, they really are comfortable.

She sees a soft smile appear on his face when she scoots closer to him and lets her head rest on his shoulder as they start walking again.

Maybe, she thinks as she feels his thumb rub the back of her hand in soothing motions, maybe pockets aren’t so bad after all.