#now i notice the yuck seeping in within the first hour

[multibug]

Passion Fruit Lip Gloss

AO3

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE U SO MUCH @emsylcatac

tags: identity reveal, fluff, kissing, aged-up characters, slight crack

Marinette adjusts the bedazzled party hat atop her head, the bright gold a stark contrast to her jet black hair. It doesn’t exactly go with her outfit of choice, though she’s not necessarily angry at it. 

It was either that or the bedazzled green tiny cowboy hat.-

(“Green?!” she had asked Alya, when she was showing Marinette ideas about what to do for the hats.

“For our school colors, silly. We probably won’t use them anyway.” 

Alya did end up using them in the end.) 

Marinette’s wearing a peach-colored long-sleeve silk button up with thin red and white stripes vertically lining it. It’s tucked into a pair of black shorts with a leather belt. 

In a moment of pure hastiness, she had chosen her tallest thigh high black heels, with a heel that raised her three full inches over her normal height. 

A small beret keeps one side of her hair pinned back so her ear is exposed. She tied a thin choker around her neck to complete the look and a small touch of makeup with glossy lips. 

It’s passion fruit flavor. 

The clock hanging on the wall reads 23h00, giving Marinette a good hour and a half before she can beg off feigning tiredness as her excuse so Alya doesn’t call her a party pooper. It’s not that Marinette doesn’t like to party per say, it’s that she’s not exactly the third wheel type. 

She’s had more than enough of it the last few days, thank you very much. 

All of their friends are paired up with someone, whether it’s platonic or not. Alya and Nino, Kim and Ondine, Luka and XY—a big shocker to all of their friends with how much Luka despised him back in the day. There’s the obvious Juleka and Rose still holding strong, Kagami and Chloé, another eye-opener when they revealed it to their friends earlier last month. 

Ivan and Mylène, who endured a long-distance relationship for a while before Ivan and his family moved back to Paris in August. Nathaniel and Marc, who sadly weren’t around a lot to cause Marinette much of a heartache, but enough nonetheless. 

Even Alix and Max, two entirely platonic friends, were enough to make Marinette feel like she was third wheeling. 

They aren’t doing it on purpose, at least Marinette thinks they aren’t, yet the longing to have someone on this chilly New Years Eve is almost unbearable. Almost. 

A mix of something fruity and strong loiters in her hand long enough to help kick the feeling. 

“Girl, what are you doing all the way over here by yourself?” Alya gently bumps her hip into Marinette’s, eyeing her over the top of her straw as she takes a sip of her drink. “You’ve been off all night!” 

Alya’s cowboy hat is nearly slipping off her head at this point, though it looks as though the redhead hasn’t noticed. 

Marinette stifles a giggle, shoving her half-filled drink into Alya’s free hand. She watches in bemusement as part of the drink sloshes to the floor and goes about fixing the small hat on top of Alya’s head. “There! All fixed.” 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to avoid my question,” Alya remarks with a sharply raised eyebrow. 

“Me? Trying to avoid your question? Alya, you must be drunker than you think!” Marinette quickly takes the drink back from Alya’s hand and downs the rest of it, throwing an overly enthusiastic thumbs up in its wake. 

“I’m on my first drink, M,” Alya deadpans. 

Pursing her lips together, Marinette shrugs her shoulder sheepishly. “Sorry?” 

The song changes from a slower song to a more upbeat one, the accompanying lights Nino installed in his and Alya’s apartment changing to the tune of it. 

Alya knocks back the rest of her drink and slams the cup onto a nearby counter, a devious glint in her eyes. 

Oh no. 

“Come dance with me, M!” Her hand encircles Marinette’s wrist, tugging her onto the makeshift dance floor whether Marinette wants to or not. 

Marinette nearly trips over her heels in an attempt to keep up with Alya’s longer legs, knowing it's fruitless to argue with Alya when she has her mind set to something. 

Out of the corner of her eye, a familiar tall blond squeezes past them with relative ease, Marinette briefly making eye contact with them. Time feels as though it slows down, Marinette’s lips parting slightly as she peers into the bright eyes of Adrien, who she hasn’t seen since Nino threw him a spectacular 19th birthday party in September. 

A birthday party that Marinette still can’t remember to this day. 

All she recalls is getting extremely plastered after seeing Adrien pictured with a girl in his newest edition of Vogue Paris. He hadn’t spoken about whether the girl was his girlfriend at the time, yet seeing them together had her feeling as though she was on fire. 

Months of Marinette working towards getting over him just for her to realize it’s seemingly useless. 

He’s always going to have a special place in her heart, she suspects. 

His eyes soften as soon as he realizes it's her, his lips curving into a beautiful smile that outperforms all of his photoshoot pictures by a landslide. His hair’s grown slightly longer since she’s last seen him, curling around the back of his ear—a bit reminiscent of their collège days. 

Adrien’s still just as gorgeous as she remembers. 

“You look good,” she squeaks out over the bass of the music, inwardly screaming at herself to shut up. 

“Thank you—” he cuts himself off as Alya drags Marinette across the room, his hand outstretched in reaching towards her. 

Gosh, how she yearns to see if it’s as soft as it looks, even in the dim multi-colored lighting. 

“Honey, I think the liquor is getting to you,” Alya whisper-yells into her ear, a tiny smirk lingering on her face. 

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the party hat sliding with the movement. “No way, Al! I haven’t been drinking like that. Only enough for some liquid courage, you know?” 

Just then, she trips over the heel of her boot and nearly forces them to the floor from using Alya as leverage. Thankfully, Alya was standing close enough to the wall to support them before that happened. 

“Sure, babe. I’ll make sure either Nino or I take you home later.” 

Sticking her tongue out at Alya, she sets her empty drink onto the nearest flat surface and throws her arms around Alya’s neck, losing herself to the beat of the music. Her hips move in time with the songs, some she faintly remembers, and others she’s never heard of. 

Alya’s close enough to her that she begins to feel a bit sweaty as the songs pass. 

At some point while Hot in Herre by Nelly is playing, Nino saddles up to them with drinks in his hands. 

“Babe, I think she’s had enough,”Alya all but snaps.

Nino shoots her a look that says relax without actually saying it. 

“Thanks, Nino! You’re a real pal.” Marinette loops her arm through his and leans her head against his bicep, taking a sip from the drink he gives her. “Yuck, water.” 

“Yeah, you are a real pal,” Alya says with a fond grin, pressing a slightly sweaty kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, love.” 

Marinette huffs. “I take it back. You’re not my pal.” She ruins this statement by tightening her grip on his arm. 

“Ooh, she’s clingy tonight. Are you drunk, Nette?” 

“I’m not drunk. I’m just abnormally tipsy is all! I think it might just be hitting me now. Oh dear, maybe the water is a good idea.” Frowning, she sips at the water with her nose scrunched, a small pout forming on her face. 

Raising her arm up to stare at the watch on her hand, she squints her eyes and is barely able to make out the time: 23h50. 

Another New Years Eve, another kissless year. 

“Hey guys! Kim is looking for you two. He said something about a major spill in the kitchen?” 

It’s Adrien, dressed in a light blue—is that Givenchy?!—cotton button-up with yellow and green flowers scattered on it. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the shirt itself is tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of brown chelsea boots. 

It suits him well, so much so that she clenches her jaw to stop it from dropping.

Snap out of it. 

Marinette blinks owlishly at Adrien, the liquor causing her head to feel fuzzy. 

“I don’t want to leave Nette alone—”

Adrien laughs softly, hands shoved into his pockets as he interrupts, “Nino, I can take care of Mar while you guys go help Kim, yeah?” 

“I am not a child.” Marinette detaches herself from Nino and stands proudly, chin held high. “I can take care of myself!” 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Adrien replies gently, as to not spook her. “I’ll just be around to make sure you’re okay in the process, is that cool?” 

He’s so nice. It warms her heart. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Cool, let’s go.” He slings an arm over her shoulder languidly and smiles down at her. 

Her heart races. 

“Do you want to go onto the balcony to watch the fireworks? Nino and Alya said it’s off limits, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for us, right guys?” 

Alya winks over at Marinette as Adrien’s head turns away to glance at Nino, and she replies, “Yeah, go for it.” 

A blush rises on her cheeks, heat stinging her face. She’s going to kill Alya. 

“C’mon, Mar, we’re out this bitch.” Adrien steers them over to the balcony and easily has them through the sliding doors within seconds.

It drowns out the party lingering behind them. 

Glancing down at her wrist, Marinette notes that her watch reads 23h55. Five minutes until midnight. Time feels as though it’s gone so fast yet so slow, strangely enough. 

She shivers, though the sensation is mostly coming from her stockings as her shirt’s fairly thick. She’s surprised when she feels a weight on her shoulders. 

Out of thin air, Adrien produces a heavy bomber jacket that warms her to the core immediately. Maybe he grabbed it on their way out without her realizing it? Whatever the case may be, she’s very grateful for the heat seeping into her body while they’re out in the frigid Parisian air. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs in response, her arms crossing to grab either side of the jacket and hold it around her body. 

“Of course,” he replies, shooting her the same smile from earlier. 

It warms her more than the jacket does. 

“You know,” he starts, hands twitching on the balcony railing, as he glances from the beautiful city view to her face. “I have so much to talk to you about. So much to say. Now isn’t the right time obviously, as you’ve been drinking—”

Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m perfectly coherent, Adrien.” 

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he defends easily, his arm groping her elbow to ground her. “I’m just saying that I think this is a conversation where both of us should be completely sober and open to hearing the topic at hand.” 

What does he mean by that? She’s not sure where she should be confused and worried or elated that he wants to talk to her about something serious. Either way, it��s puzzling her already fuzzy brain to the point where she bites down on her lower lip and lets out a huff unknowingly. 

“Is it bad?” she finally asks, eyes flickering to her watch. 

23h58. 

“No, no! It’s not bad at all.” He squeezes her elbow reassuringly and smiles warmly at her, eyes glittering even in the dim light that shines above them. “I’m hoping it’ll be a good conversation, though I want you to remember it. That’s why I’m waiting.” 

Waiting. Good. it’s good. For a good conversation. Ugh. Her brain hurts. 

“Okay,” Marinette murmurs, blinking up at him slightly confused. She returns the smile once she notices his, it being too contagious for her not to. “Okay, I believe you.” 

He hasn’t removed his hand from her elbow. She hasn’t shaken him off either. 

Beyond them, miles and miles away, in the sea of twinkling lights and crowds of people, fireworks explode into the night sky as bright sensations. They light up the dark with their vibrant colors and intoxicating patterns, making it irresistibly hard to look away. 

The second she does, her eyes are drawn to another light, this one alive. 

Adrien, who is watching the fireworks with an expression of wonder. A tilt to his eyebrows and a small drop of his jaw, cheekbones dipping high with the shadow of the night. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks, rather than wishing him a Happy New Years. Rather than stare at the beautiful swirls and patterns happening adjacent to her. She’s too focused on the beautiful boy in front of her, whether he knows she’s talking about him or not. 

It has to be said.

He lets out a small chuckle and nods his head, free hand rubbing at the back of his head as he whispers, “Yeah, it sure is.” 

“Bonne Année, Adrien, “ she whispers, so gently that she’s unsure as to if he’s heard it. 

Wonder-filled eyes flickering over to her helps in answering her question.. He grins impossibly wide, all of his teeth showing so it’s nearly comical, yet it’s so unabashedly Adrien that she can’t help but return it for a second time tonight.

Adrien leans in, and for a second, Marinette truly thinks he’s going to kiss her. Her heart starts stuttering and the color the cold had ripped from her returns to her body so fast it feels like whiplash. 

He doesn’t kiss her. 

And yet, that isn’t the exact truth either, is it?

Lips brush against the apple of her cheek, so light that the touch feels both hot and cold simultaneously. It sends shivers throughout her body and the spot on her skin that his lips linger on burns hotter than the temperature of the sun. 

She can’t think. Her brain is complete mush.

The tip of his cold nose nudges against her cheek afterwards briefly as he leans in to whisper into her ear, “Bonne Année to you as well, Marinette.” 

Her heart continues to flutter until she falls asleep minutes later, curled up in his jacket all while leaning on him.

---

Daylight shines in through the slits of her blinds faster than Marinette would’ve liked, considering the horrible ache in her head. Except, she can’t exactly remember how she made it back to her apartment, which is a weird feat for her. 

She rarely drinks enough to where she doesn’t remember what’s happening—Adrien’s birthday party being an anomaly. 

How did she make it home yesterday? 

Hm, maybe it was Alya or Nino? They aren’t the type to abandon one another in their times of need. even in times of absolute peril. There’s no way they didn’t have some part in getting her home, even if it meant physically seeing that she made it into her apartment building before leaving.

The thought makes her feel all fuzzy inside. 

It could’ve been any of their friends at the party, if she’s honest. She doesn’t remember anything after Hot in Herre played on the dancefloor; hopefully bits and pieces come back as time goes on. 

Oh well, it mustn’t be that important.

Peeling open an eye has her glancing over at her nightstand, a bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water sitting neatly on her otherwise messy cupboard. She makes a move to grab the bottle and water when movement near her balcony door has her freezing in place. 

Chat Noir is standing there, back turned to her—she can even recognize him in horribly-taken photographs—as though he’s trying to sneak out. He turns to glance back at her and she soundly slips her eyes shut, feigning sleep. 

As her balcony door creaks, her eyes open and she watches Chat shut the door and bounce off the balcony with his staff. 

“Tikki?” 

Her small, red friend flies out from her little nest. “Yes, Marinette?” 

“Was Chat Noir just in my room?” Her voice is thick with sleep and slightly hoarse. 

Tikki’s eyes widen and she glances around the room nervously. “No? Were you dreaming? Chat Noir was most definitely not in here!” 

Marinette’s eyes squint up at her. “Don’t lie to me. I just saw him!” 

“Well, then why did you ask me?” Tikki whines, deflating a bit as she floats closer to Marinette. “Yes, Chat Noir was here. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you as you are the Guardian and it’s your decision, but if you don’t, I won’t utter a word.” 

“Will it jeopardize me knowing his identity? I wouldn’t want to do that to him,” Marinette worries, using her thumb and forefinger to toy with her lower lip. 

Stroking her chin thoughtfully, Tikki shrugs. “It may. I can’t say yes or no for sure. It would have to be a risk you’re willing to take.” 

“Ugh, no. I’m not going to do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair.” Marinette sighs, finally opening the bottle of paracetamol and downing two with large gulps of water. “Though I am curious.” 

“As they say, curiosity killed the cat!” Tikki replies with a giggle. 

Face-palming, Marinette groans aloud. “Oh no. He’s rubbing off on you too!” 

---

“Girl, I’m surprised you haven’t called me,” Alya tells her, a few days later, when the New Years resolution goals have already lost their momentum. “I figured I’d get a phone call as soon as you got home.” 

“What are you talking about, Als? Sorry, hold on.” Marinette pauses, readjusting the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her classes haven’t let back in for the semester, yet she’s trying to get a headstart on pinning a new design she’s working on so she doesn’t fall behind. “Okay, go on. I have my brain screwed in now.” 

Things aren’t going according to plan, obviously. 

Alya snorts. “With you and Adrien, duh! Do you seriously not remember it? I thought you weren’t plastered.” 

“I wasn’t plastered! I guess I was just more tipsy than I thought I was.” 

“So, you were drunk?” 

“Shut up.” 

Letting out another round of laughter, Alya says, “Well, I can fill you in if you’d like. It’s pretty juicy.” 

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Marinette groans, rubbing an exasperated hand over her face. 

“Oh come on! It’s not even bad! You did pretty well considering the circumstances!” 

A pin falls to the floor at Alya’s word, forcing Marinette to tell her friend to hold on again. Three minutes later, she successfully finds the pin that somehow hid under the mannequin stand where she couldn’t see it. 

Lucky? Pft. Not Marinette.

“You were saying?” Marinette asks.

Alya fills her in on all of the details rather quickly, from Adrien whisking her away while still being a gentleman about it to them having alone time on the balcony. The story lasts all of a minute, even with Alya’s expertise in story-telling, and it has Marinette’s heart fluttering. 

The puzzle pieces start to connect. 

“Als, I just remembered what happened on the balcony,” Marinette says, eyes slightly wide. 

“Bitch, you better tell me right the fuck now or I’m going to come over to your apartment and sit on you.” 

“You say that as if it’s a threat.” 

“Marinette!” 

Marinette lets out a snort and slaps her knee. She sets the last pin before rolling the mannequin back into its temporary home for the night. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m just playing around, Als!” 

“I love you, babe, but you’re killing me here.” 

“Sorry,” she replies, though she’s really not. 

“.....Marinette?” 

“Oh! Right!” Marinette can hear Alya face-palming over the phone. “Well, all I remember is us talking and him telling me that he has to talk to me about something important. I don’t really remember much else but he kissed me on the cheek, Alya.”

Alya squeals—a sound Marinette’s never heard come from her mouth—and a jostling noise comes from her end. “Holy fuck, M! That’s amazing!” 

“Right? At first I thought he was going to kiss me, but a cheek kiss is just as good nonetheless!” 

“Babe, you were drunk. It’s a good thing he didn’t kiss you. That means he respects you, regardless of whether there’s any feelings or not there.” 

Marinette lets out a small laugh, her heart swelling at Alya’s words. “You always know how to make situations better, don’t you?” 

“It’s kind of my job,” Alya replies. 

“And I love you for it.” 

Alya blows a smooch over the phone. “Mwah! Right back at you.” She pauses, then quickly continues, “Oh! Did he say anything when he left your apartment after he dropped you off?” 

Wait, what? 

Marinette has no recollection of this happening whatsoever. She faintly remembers falling asleep against him—he was just so warm, okay?—but him taking her home? Alya has to be mistaken.

“He took me home? Are you sure? I don’t remember that.” 

“Yeah, he specifically told Nino and I that he’d take you home and then sent us a picture of you tucked in bed that night to ease my worrying. You know how much of a motherly hen I can be sometimes.” 

None of it makes sense. Even if he did take her home that night, why was Chat Noir in her room early in the morning? 

Unless…

No. There’s no way. Absolutely no way that she’s been this blind. No way that Marinette’s this lucky. 

She’d know if her two favorite people in the world—excluding Alya and Nino—were the same person, right? There’s no way that the miraculous could’ve hidden it that well from her that she wouldn’t have noticed.

Except maybe... It had? 

It comes together like whiplash. All of their mannerisms. From the way both Chat and Adrien rub their necks when they’re nervous, or when they make jokes but immediately retract them so as to not hurt the person’s feelings. Both of them having a rough home life and awful dads. 

Piercing green eyes that remind Marinete of a home away from home. 

It reminds her of those times in collège and lycée when Adrien would disappear and reappear whenever she would. She had attributed it to him being afraid of the akumas and finding somewhere safe to hide that entire time. It’s not like it was her place to judge anyone’s ways to cope with what was happening!

The quirks that the both of them share. Two halves of a whole. They merge together beautifully in her mind, filling a void she hadn’t known existed until now. 

Her heart is so, so full. 

“Als. I think I just had the world’s biggest revelation,” she breathes out, sounding absolutely lovesick. 

“What is it?” Nino’s yelling about something incoherent in the background, and Marinette can just faintly hear Adrien’s voice.

“I think I’m in love with Adrien.” Her stomach flutters at her words. 

Alya splutters out a hearty laugh. “Oh, M. We’ve been knew.” 

---

Three days. Marinette’s lived with her secret for three whole days and she’s losing it. 

She begged off spending time with Alya, Nino, and Adrien to try and gather her thoughts. Adrien being Chat is the best possible outcome for a partner she could’ve ever dreamed of, but she wants to tell him how much he means to her without fumbling over her words too much. 

It’ll probably still happen. He is Adrien, for crying out loud.  

Earlier, Marinette transformed so she could write some notes down in her compact in case she gets too flustered. Adrien’s nice enough that he won’t judge her for it, so she’s not too worried.

After a quick application of her favorite passion fruit flavor lip gloss, she sets off for their patrol meetup point. 

“Tikki, I’m so nervous,” she says. 

No response. Yes,. Marinette’s aware that her kwami can’t hear her or speak to her while she’s suited up, yet the hope still lingers for some absurd reason. 

Marinette wholeheartedly blames the nerves.

Spotting Chat—Adrien is difficult. He blends into the shadows so easily that Marinette nearly falls off the building when he blinks his eyes open. She’s lucky that he has fast reflexes to catch her by the waist, because with how out of it she’s been today, she might’ve forgotten to use her yo-yo. 

“Bug! It’s so nice of you to drop in.” 

Oh no. His jokes just make him more attractive. She’s fucked.

Marinette’s hands fall to his biceps, and she’s unsure as to if she wants to tug him closer or push him away at that awful joke that has her heart racing. A look of surprise crosses his face and she squeaks, ducking out of his grip. 

“Thanks,” she replies quietly. 

“You didn’t make fun of my joke. Are you okay?” Concern etches its way onto his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees his fingers twitch in her direction. He stops himself as soon as he notices, choosing instead to idly twist the ring on his finger. 

Taking a deep breath, she places her hand over his restless one. “Relax, kitty. I’m okay. Just nervous, because I have to talk to you about something.” 

His eyes widen at her words, lips parting as he exhales a breath. She faintly feels it on her face as he says, “I have something to tell you too. It’s kind of urgent.” 

“You can go first, okay? I can wait a little while longer.” 

Adrien nods, tilting his head to the side with a cute smile on his face. “How much do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Marinette responds instantly. 

It isn’t a lie, either. She genuinely trusts him with her life. Transformed, detransformed, heck, she trusts him blindfolded at this point. 

He nods his head at her words and starts towards her, arms outstretched. Even as he scoops her up into his arms, her trust in him is unabated. “Hold onto me tight and don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, alright?”

“Alright,” she echoes. 

Then, Adrien’s off, running over rooftops at speeds that seem unimaginable when it isn't of her own doing. Her ponytail whips about in the frigid air, Marinette using his neck as a shield from the harsh wind. 

She’s thrown back to Glaciator, where she and Adrien spoke about misfortunes and missed opportunities. He ended up showing her a beautiful scene atop a nearby rooftop, as both Ladybug and Marinette. Thinking back, her racing heart should’ve been a sign that her feelings for Chat weren’t platonic, yet it took years of walking on eggshells for one of them to finally crack. 

“We’re almost there. You good down there?” 

“I’m fine,” she says, laughing into his suit. “This isn’t where I find out you’re going to drop me off a building as a prank, is it?” 

He scoffs, softly landing on what she assumes to be another rooftop. “Hardy har har, Bugaboo.” 

The sound of a door opening and closing lets her know they’ve arrived—apparently it wasn’t a rooftop—and the temptation to look around is higher than she expected. She waits for his approval, wanting him to trust her as much as she trusts him. 

“I’m going to set you down now, okay?” 

Marinette nods into his neck, extending her legs so she can place them on the floor as he lowers her. Her arms stay wrapped around his neck, while her eyes continue to stay closed. 

“I’m going to step back and then you can look.” Adrien lingers for a brief moment, breath fanning over Marinette’s face. 

As he shifts away from her, her arms drop to her sides. Her eyes blink open seconds later and she peers around the bright room a little dazedly. 

They’re in her shared apartment with Alya—in her room. 

Younger Marinette would be freaking out about having Adrien Agreste in her room. 

(Older Marinette isn’t faring much better.) 

For some strange reason, Adrien knowing her identity never popped into her head when he said he had to talk to her. She had no clue as to what it could’ve been—especially not that.

“Oh,” Marinette breathes. 

“Please don’t be mad,” he rushes out, hands shaking about in front of him in a nervous manner. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you that I know. And I didn’t mean to find out! I swear! It kind of just happened? I can’t even tell you how I found out unless you’re willing to know my identity too—gosh, I’m going to stop talking now.” 

Seeing him so jittery helps to calm the rattling of her heart.

Marinette wordlessly grabs his hand and brings him over to the fluffy rug in the center of her room. She flops on top of it and criss-crosses her legs so he has enough room to do the same opposite her. 

He follows, albeit a confused expression lingers on his face. 

Their hands stay joined together, a nice weight resting on her knee. The tip of his claw is rubbing small circles into her palm, whether he notices it or not. 

“I’m not mad,” she says, the softest of smiles spreading onto her cheeks. “I could never be mad at you, kitty.” 

Adrien lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes her hand, her heart flipping at the fond look he gives her. “Good, good.” 

They stare at one another for a moment too long, before Marinette murmurs fuck it under her breath and detarnsforms. 

His suit is oddly cool against her bare knee, his eyes flickering to their hands then back up to her face. He licks at his lips and breathes out, “Oh.” 

“Hi,” she greets, with a small wave of her free hand. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts out. 

Marinette lets out a surprised laugh, red peeking out under the dip of his mask. Her voice is teasing as she says,“Thank you, I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me blush or not.” 

“Marinette, please.” 

Hearing him say her name has her heart fluttering, and she detangles their hands to push up onto her knees, crawling towards him. She nudges his legs apart so she can fit between them, arms wrapping around his neck. Her cheek presses against his, the cool material of his suit helping to soothe her burning cheeks. 

Even with the suit protecting him, she can feel the thumping of his heart against her chest. 

“You wanna know my secret?” she asks faintly, as his hands move to settle on her back. 

“Yes, tell me.” His claws rest lightly against the fabric of her shirt. 

Her nose brushes against the tip of his ear and she feels him shudder. “I think you’re really, really cute, Adrien.” 

“Plagg, claws off.” The transformation light has her eyes slipping shut briefly. When she reopens them, Adrien’s sat in front of her with a blinding smile on his face. “Hi.” 

For some reason, she’s brought to tears by the situation. She holds them back the best she can. “Hey.” 

She’s just so happy. 

“I’m so glad it’s you, by the way,” Adrien professes, blinking back his own set of tears. “Like I know I’ve known for a while and all, but this still feels like finding out for the first time.”

“Are you trying to make me cry? You asshole,” she whines, tears sliding down her face.

Before she can reach up and wipe them away on her own, Adrien’s hand is there to do it for her. His touch is so gentle, and instead of returning to its previous position on her back, he tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I’m so glad it’s you, Adrien. You mean so much to me. And to know that two of my favorite people are the same person? How could I be so lucky?” 

“Two of your favorite people?” His head tilts to the side cutely, his hand idly stroking her jaw. 

A blush returns to her face as she replies, “Yeah, I’m shocked you didn’t know, if I’m honest. I was so obvious about it! I’ve liked you as Adrien for so long, and then as soon as I realized that you’re Chat, all of my feelings for Chat were brought to light.” 

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” he murmurs, licking at his lips. 

“Oh, shut up. Don’t tease me!” 

“I’m not teasing you, Mar! You’re just really cute!” 

Oh god. Her face hides in his shoulder as she emits a small groan, gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I’m going to pass out if you keep talking about me like this.” 

Adrien lets out a laugh that vibrates against her chest. “Well, I don’t want you to pass out, but I need you to know how much I like you.” 

“Adrien,” Marinette squeaks, face digging into his shoulder. 

“Marinette,” Adrien echoes. 

Slowly, she raises her head to shoot a pouty look in his direction. “You’re mean.” 

“You don’t think I’m mean,” he starts, a devious glint in his eyes. Uh oh. “You like me.” 

Marinette’s heart flips as his words, her lip only jutting out further. She tries to maneuver out of his arms, yet he doesn’t budge,  his hand rubbing soothing circles against her back. “I take it back.” 

“No, you’re not allowed to do that. I will cry again!” He widens his slightly bloodshot eyes to prove his point.

“How did you even find out?” she asks, smoothly changing the subject.

“You told me. At my birthday party. You were drunk, so I sat with you for a while and you started rambling about things that didn’t really make sense—”

“Oh no.” 

He sends her a small smile, then says, “Yeah, I hadn’t really believed that you were Ladybug at that point because you were really drunk, yet you mentioned our patrol meeting spot for the week and called ‘Chat’ your annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass and it clicked.” 

“That’s it. I’m leaving and never coming back. Why am I so embarrassing? Annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass? I could’ve lived without knowing I said that to you!” Her forehead drops to lean against his cheek. 

“It was cute! You’re cute and I like you so much, yeah?” His head turns so he can make eye contact with her, their noises brushing with how close they are to one another. 

Marinette really wants to kiss him. 

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she awaits his response.

“Of course. You really didn’t have to ask, because I’d let you kiss me any day of the week, but I think it’s really nice that you did ask—”

She cuts off his nervous rambling by kissing him, her hand sliding up into his hair at the base of his neck. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. 

He tastes like flavored lip balm, hand moving from the dip of her back to her hip to hold her steady. 

He tastes familiar. 

It’s weird to think of. She kissed him when Kim became akumatized. According to the picture Alya showed her after hers and Nino’s joint akumatization, they had kissed for whatever reason. 

Their almost kisses come to mind and she feels a different type of heat rise on her cheeks. 

Marinette pulls back with a groan, nearly squeaking as Adrien follows her blindly to press a chaste kiss to her mouth. He lets her slip out of his arms and shove her face into the carpet, a hand trailing gently over her back. 

“Was it that bad?” he jokes, sifting his other hand through her hair. 

“No, oh my gosh. It was everything I’ve ever dreamed of! Your lips are really soft! I just thought of how I tried to kiss you when you faked being a statue all those years ago and now I’m embarrassed!” 

“You’re the cutest ever,” he says, flopping onto his side to lay next to her. He brushes his lips over the shell of her ear and nudges at her cheek with his nose. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’ve said and done so many things in front of you that could be considered embarrassing, but because it’s you, I don’t care.” 

She turns her head and shoots him a look. “You never tried kissing a statue version of me!” 

“And I like you even more for that! Look at us, Mar! We’re 18 and 19 respectively, and we’re laying on your fluffy rug around midnight! Everything about this could be considered embarrassing, except it’s not! Because it’s us.” 

Adrien’s words only make Marinette more attracted to him at this point.

“We’re allowed to be embarrassing, but only when it’s us?” she asks.

He nods, lips quirking into a big smile. “Yes, exactly. I won’t be embarrassing with anyone else but you. You’re my embarrassing person, Marinette.” 

“My heart shouldn’t be fluttering at you calling us embarrassing,” she whines, laying her hand on his chest. 

“Embarrassingly in love idiots?” he whispers, finding her hand to tangle their fingers together so he can bring them up to his lips and brush his mouth over the back of her hand.

Marinette exhales a quiet laugh and says, “Very embarrassingly in love.” 

They fall asleep like that, his arm wrapped around her waist while she lays her head on his chest, breaths mingling together. 

It’s the best sleep she’s had in ages.

---

Marinette’s phone buzzing wakes her up the next morning. 

She fumbles around for the device, letting out a small aha as her fingers grip the electronic. It’s hard for her to open her and stare at the small screen, yet when she notices it’s a message from Adrien, her eyes snap open.

Wait, when did she get in her own bed?

Quickly opening the message, she reads it with increasing vigor as the message goes on.

Adrien: Hey, Mar. I couldn’t stay long after you fell asleep because I had a photoshoot this morning and you looked so cute that I didn’t want to wake you. I feel like I did a poor job at letting you know how I felt yesterday, so I’m going to say it here so it’s clear and you know, okay? (Don’t judge me!!!) 

I like you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You have such amazing qualities that I admire and adore. You’re a leader who isn’t afraid to stick up for what she believes in, whether you’re in the suit or out of it! You make the world a better place just by being you. I couldn’t think of a better person being Ladybug, and it makes me so happy that it’s you.

I’d love to get to know you more. I think we both know that we click really well at this point, but I want to do this right with you. We’re a team, Bug. You and me. So, what do you say? 

Her hand groggily slaps the call button, wiping back a few tears that slide down her cheeks from his works. 

The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hey, Mar. Did you get my message—”

“You stupid cat! I’m sitting here at eight in the morning crying because of you! I loved every second of it.” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “So does that mean it’s a yes?” 

“We should go to the museum and reenact our statue scene as our date,” Marinette suggests, a large grin making its way onto her face. 

Adrien nearly chokes. “Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way, little bug.”

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 9

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Swearing, angst, distrust, pain, hate, mentions of wounds, some unwanted physical contact (minimal). A/N: Thanks for all the reblogs, my dears! I really appreciate it and it keeps me in the mood for writing more. Hope you like this chapter!

9 - Big bad wolf

Feeling the buzzing, Natasha pulls the cellphone out under the table. The blue light is probably obvious to the people staring her down from their high seats, but she can’t care less about their self claimed entitlement after this day’s six hours (and still counting) of their brainless questioning and attempts at shoving the blame unto her and the Avengers and SHIELD. Natasha rolls the eyes at a senator before focusing on the screen between her fingers.

The chair scrapes harshly over the stone floor, sending jarring shivers through the people around the accused agent which she ignores. In fact, they could have shouted at her and she still wouldn’t have noticed. Fuck. Vaguely aware that someone is calling out to her, the woman turns and strides out of the room, attempting to lessen the pace before it becomes an actual run when she’s out in the long hallway. Shit.

The phone is partially buried in the dark, red locks that bounce and sway with each step. C’mon! Steve answers on the third ring, the sound of shots reverberating along the connection but with little effect on either of the speakers.

“Nat?”

“They got her.”

A few choice curses are dug out from the fourties. “We’re wrapping up here anyways, call you back.”

“Hurry.”

Natasha cuts the call short, fingers already itching to tap in the next number when she takes a deep breath to steel herself before stepping out the front doors and into the veritable storm of camera flashes and shouts from impatient journalists. It’s impossible to hear the beeping unless she presses the phone hard against her ear, but there’s only one ringing tone before the call is answered.

“Clint.”

The welcoming voice chuckles. “You look pissed, smile to the camera.”

It’s tempting to flip it the bird but that won’t help. “Ha…ha…no.” A murderous gaze clears the rest of the way to the car strategically parked right outside the building. “Need you asap.”

“Trouble with the press?”

The door slams, finally shielding the ex-Russian from the scuffle. “Check Jarvis’ message.”

Clint grunt unintelligibly, a sure sign that he’s following orders without wanting to miss the show on the TV where reporters are speculating on Natasha’s tire-squealing exit. There are other voices carried faintly through the phone, evidence of the balance the archer has managed to find between his occupation and a family. Something tugs at her heart and she buries the nose in the thin shirt that still smells a little bit of the woman who turned up out of nowhere.

“Crap.” He doesn’t need to say much else but adds that he’ll be ready.

But where? “Jar’s tracking them, keep you posted.”

 …   Reader’s PoV   …

Not only is your head pounding, your body is also aching with a billion tiny razorblades swimming through your veins and to make it all worse: the place you’re at stinks of dried piss and you’re not all to sure that it isn’t coming from the sorry excuse of a mattress you’re lying on. It’s impossible to see, though, as there are no lights. Wriggling around gingerly, at least you can move freely and sit up. Where the fuck am I? The memories are blurred, only reluctantly untangling themselves from the pain and fussiness to be organized, emptying you from all but cold, immobilizing dread.

You’ve spent some of the time at the Compound by reading up on Hydra. They’ve had a hand in much more than you could ever have imagined, apparently, working from within to shape the world by enabling innumerable horrible events throughout history. If they had succeeded with the latest plan, it would only have topped the list of horrors due to the immediate number of deaths.

Now they’ve got you.

Leaning back, the wall is coarse and damp against the cotton on your back. Your bare toes are cold. Your cheeks are wet from silent tears that flow steadily no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it’s all going to be okay. The Avengers will come. Natasha will come. Please…come for me.

Resting the back of your head against the wall sends a few crumbling bits of plaster or something down your shirt, but you don’t bother with it because you’ve noticed something else: up in the darkness more or less ahead of you, there’s a tiny dot of red light glowing. Turning your head in the darkness, you find another to your left. Cameras. Placed in diagonal corners, as far as you can judge, there’s no place you cannot be seen. But it’s dark. Do they work even now? No one has come although you’ve clearly been awake for a while, and as you wave a hand in front of your face, it’s only the brief disappearance of the light that proves the movement is real. Hesitating, you give one of the cameras the finger.

…

You’re starting to get hungry by the time footsteps approach and stop. A faint click is the only warning before a naked lightbulb overhead flickers on with an angry buzz, and you squint under the harsh glare to take in the room.

There’s a seatless toilet in one corner, the metal gleaming in the light that does absolutely nothing to improve the basement-like cell where the lowest foot of concrete on the walls is loosening the grip due to the damp. Dust lies in fat layers on the few surfaces, sticky and dark not unlike some of the patches on the mattress you’re sitting on…although a few of those are more brownish. Yuck.

The squeak of metal against metal makes your hairs stand on end. Or maybe it’s the fear of who will walk through the door as it slides open, granting a brief glimpse of a similarly nasty hallway beyond the figure.

“Hey, baby,” Brock’s voice is clipped, bandages and what-not still wrapping around his skull and jaw, “missed me?”

You don’t want to answer, don’t want to look at the broken man with eyes fiery from madness, but looking away can hardly be a safe choice either. Focusing on his chest, you realize that there must be almost no bandages hidden beneath the tight black t-shirt. How? He’d been crushed as the building fell, almost rebuild at the hospital to the extend that he was more metal and broken bones than any healthy parts.

“Don’t like what you see?” The lisp is minimal unlike the limp as he steps closer. “Look at me!” You do as he says, heart pumping in your throat and guts churning with panic. “Look what they did to me, what your new friends did to the man who loved you!”

Meeting his once gorgeous eyes is harder than anything else right now. “You did this to yourself…” is all you manage to whisper at first before finding your voice, your defiance, “you deserve what happened. Hydra? Don’t play the victim when we both know you’re not!”

Brock moves quickly considering he’s recovering and the force behind the back-hand slap is numbing the first seconds until the impact registers like fire across your face. There’s a taste of blood on your tongue, seeping out at the corner of your mouth until a strong hand grabs you by the jaw with renewed pain.

“Don’t think your friends are all that innocent, baby,” Brock hisses, his spit landing on your face, “Hydra wants a better world, I’ll make you see.”

“Njwh!” It doesn’t sound as defiant as you had hoped, but you can’t shake your head free.

A patch on his bandages along the temple darkens with moisture as Brock’s face splits in a grin. “Stubborn girl, we’re back together now, so stop fighting it.”

Surging down, his lips with all the chapped wounds and poisonous words crash upon yours. Too stunned to fight him, you feel his tongue slither along the seem of your mouth to gain entrance with nothing but sheer force. This is nothing like the passionate man you fell in love with. Gone is the caring soul, replaced by a fickle monster that will hurt you in any way imaginable…a fear that’s proven true as his teeth dig into your lower lips so hard it draws blood.

“That,” he whispers against your face before licking the hot drops of crimson away, “was just a warning.”

When he stands, he pushes you easily halfway onto the cold floor, but you don’t mind. Every fiber in you has gone numb as you come to terms with just how royally fucked you are.

Please, Tasha.