#I’m breaking at the seams and I have no defense left against my own heartbreak

[telltale-apologist]

why does this fucking hurt so bad, I feel like my heart is being clawed out of my chest and I cant breathe, I cant fucking breathe

[miraculousturtle]

to you, i thee wed (chapter nine)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.

(AO3//FF.net)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

WC: 8.5K

thanks @booksfullofme for the edits :)

The morning air is crisp, an icy wind settling into her lungs as Marinette gazes into the Atlantic Ocean shining brightly from the warm sun. They have oddly been blessed by good weather despite the first snowstorm that trapped them here. Not that Marinette is complaining; Faroe Islands—Vagar, to be exact—has been wonderful and a breath of fresh air.

It’s almost like magic, she thinks. The quaint little villages, the supple snowfall, the way her heart easily and speedily beats with her husband. It’s almost like magic, she can maybe see the way that things are more than what they seem, almost as if some greater force in this universe planned everything to be more than happenstance.

She tucks that thought behind her ribs and opens her arms wide to catch sunshine that beams from the heavens above her. Warmth trickles through her borrowed clothes, sinking through the well-loved fabric and seeping into her bones. The snow from yesterday melted and has left a world of green where white once laid.

She’s only slightly winded after sprinting past Adrien to reach the top of the cliff, the ocean before her as if that is more than a reward. Little islands pebble her view, just as green as the grass that lays at her feet. To the right, a waterfall cascades into the sea, and to the left, a small village weathers daily ocean breezes.

She stands at the edge of the world, ocean waves washing over her, leaving an impression on her soul. In this moment, it is only her and the sea, cradled lovingly by the sun. Light and water blend together, stitching up her seams and her heart is full with the simplicity.  

“Wow, it’s—breathtaking,” Marinette mumbles, words only half-forming on her lips.

Her fingers itch for her sketchbook: she can see the way the grasses could become a fringe, can see the way the ocean waves puff out a skirt, can see the way gold stitching swirls into blue. If she holds out her thumb and her forefinger and frames the world with her hands, maybe she can commit it all to memory; let magic be part of the memory instead of relying on a photograph.

Not that she has anything against photos, no. That would be silly, but sometimes memories that are hazy are better for documenting the world between reality and dreams, and Marinette feels like she’s been walking in a dream for days now.

“God, I am out of shape,” Adrien groans, interrupting her thoughts and snapping her back to reality. He was a few steps behind her when she had raced forward, unable to contain her excitement at reaching the top.

(She’s only slightly competitive. Only slightly. Just slightly.)

Marinette tears her gaze away from the endless inspirations before her and lets her eyes fall on her huffing husband, a smile dancing at her lips. “You don’t play basketball, fence, or whatever else you used to do?”

His eyes narrow slightly as he digs into his backpack, trying to paw at a water bottle seemingly lost among his things. “Ha. Ha. Very funny. Make fun of the rich kid who did every extracurricular under the sun.”

She unclips hers first from her strap and hands it to him. Their fingers touch, sparking electricity and lightning through her skin. “Not making fun,” she says a second later. “Just stating a fact. You were always so busy, but never dropping the ball? It was kinda cool.”

“Cool?” Adrien asks, his glare softening and stumbling into a gratuitous grin as he flips open the lid. A silent thank you is exchanged between them for the water as he drinks half of it in haste.

Which makes him choke, much to Marinette’s amusement. He narrows his eyes at her again and she schools her smile into a trembling and haphazard mess. She feels so mischievous with him that it strikes her funny sometimes, almost if he’s been a friend she’s actually had all along. Not that he hasn’t per say, but—

It’s hard to not remember Adrien when he was a child, Marinette thinks. That’s who she knew best, figuratively speaking. She really didn’t know him at all, but her memories of him then are always with her now. Always surfacing in the way he smiles or laughs, there at the edges when he talks about his family, breaking through when they talk about their friends.

But she also forgets that Adrien didn’t know she knew him. Didn’t know that she loved him. Were only friends because their friends were friends. Didn’t keep in touch after high school because theirs was a relationship that required being classmates to continue.

Instead, she tells him. “But yeah, to be so busy but still be so amazing.”

He pauses for a moment before grinning broadly and walking towards the drop-off. “Thanks, Marinette. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“I’m just saying the truth!” she laughs and skips to his side.

Shly, she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Really, I meant it. You’re a really hard worker.”

Adrien doesn’t say anything in return, his own fingers tightening around hers.

They bask in the sun for a few moments, Marinette grabbing her phone and making the two of them take selfies together. It’s natural the way the fit against each other, the way her back sinks into his chest and his arms come around her. Adrien presses his cheek to hers, his chin resting on her shoulder and she swears he can feel how big her smile is despite that he can see it on the screen. She’s happy.

(She labels the words #honeymoonbabes over the photo. Add a few hearts, a couple of smiley faces and—perfect. It’s sent to Alya in a heartbeat. )

The dirt crunches beside her and Marinette finds that Adrien has perched himself on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling thousands of feet in the air without a care. She’s done the same countless times, sometimes feeling more at home above a city’s skyline than beneath it. He must feel the same with the ease he displays when he pats the spot next to him.

She counts the seconds as the waves lap against the rocks below them. One, two, a cymbal crash signifying the water smacking into land. One, two, the water climbs up as if it wants to be a man. One, two—

“So, let’s see today’s homework. Oh, um,” Adrien says, his brows pinched together as he reads the newest email from the doctors.

Marinette leans into his shoulder. “Yes?”

He leans back. “It says we should talk about failed relationships.”

She laughs, surprise bubbling at the thought. “Oh god. Wow. Okay, should I go first?”

“Please?”

She takes a deep breath, anchoring herself to the wind and the waves and the heat from the man beside her. There is nothing wrong with what she’s about to say. They’re married now. And he might not be in love with her, but they’re married now.

It’s the assignment , she tells herself. Kill two birds with one stone .

“Okay. So. I’ve had a few partners. Not many, but I think the most important one I had was the one that was the shortest. Kinda. In that we-were-dating way. We were unoffical for a lot longer, but we were only really together for a bit.”

“How come?”

Marinette sighs, bittersweetness swelling through her being.. “Well, first off, I’m happy to say I don’t have any ill feelings towards her....”

Adrien waits a half second longer than usual to reply. “...her?”

This is fine, Marinette , she tells herself. He’s allowed to be curious.

She fights the need to be defensive, to be aggressive, to maybe pretend she actually said him instead of her, blame it on the slip of the tongue. “Uh, yeah...sometimes, not usually. I usually like men, but this time...it was a her.”

“Cool. Go on?”

She lets out a breath that had tucked itself between her ribs, pressing up against her heart. “Thanks,” she breathes, then continues. “I went to Italy for a summer and I fell head over heels for her. This girl named Francesca. A beautiful Italian girl with sun-kissed skin and the most mysterious dark eyes. She was. Yeah, she was wow .

“We both were in the same program and we shared a room together. It was...I was instantly attracted to her and I clicked with her so much and I really fell for her. We had so much in common! I’ve never been with someone where we had so much in common. And her designs were breathtaking…”

Adrien grabs her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.“What happened?”

Marinette sighed. “Well, the summer ended, you know. We kept in touch for a while, but it was hard to be in a long distance relationship like that. She did come for Christmas once, but while my family was accepting...hers was not…” she trails off.

She remembers the snow in Paris as Francesa said goodbye, the way her lips felt upon hers, the sorrow they left behind when they parted. Hairline fragments of what could've been shattered by distance and unacceptance.   

“In the end, she wasn’t happy and neither was I,” Marinette says says quietly. “And, well—she’s happy and I’m happy now. A part of me will always belong to her, but it’s okay. We never could be.”

She says the last part with her eyes fixed on the light reflecting off the water. Sunshine and Francesca go hand in hand. Bright, beautiful, vivacious beings that although Marinette loves both deeply, she also can’t particularly keep either contained. And that’s okay.

Adrien brings her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “You love people so intensely. I think it’s amazing how you’re not jaded by that relationship, but it sounds like you grew from it. Doesn’t sound like a failure at all.”

“Well, Francesca was an easy lover,” she chuckles.  “Kind and understanding. My real last relationship actually wasn’t as great. I became a doormat and I hated every second of it. He was a real douche, but I don’t want to talk about him right now, if that’s okay.”

Adrien squeezes her fingers. “That’s totally okay,” he assures her. “You said your piece and now it’s mine, I guess.”

Marinette gives a small smile and nods. “Yes, let me guess, you were a heartbreaker, right?”

He wrinkles his nose and rakes his other hand through his hair. “I guess? I don’t know...I don’t really have much to say. They were nice, but that’s about it…”

“Just nice?” she teases.

“Yeah, just nice. Like I had a few girlfriends and they were nice. Our first dates were nice. Our, you know,” he blushes, “sex lives were, uh, nice. But that was it. Everything was just—we dated.

“And you know, I thought I would fall super head over heels for them, but I never did. I was happy, but not ecstatic or thrilled or—well, I never felt as excited as I do right now. With you.”

Marinette’s heart skips a beat. She grips the ground to not tumble over the cliff, her mind reeling. “You feel ecstatic?! With me?!”

He—how can he? Be so happy with her? It just doesn’t make sense. He’s had this whole life to live thus far, but with her—?   

“Haha, yeah,” he says, blushing more, his gaze far from hers. “Like when I was young, I was able to crush really hard, but that’s just a crush. When I got older, dating didn’t excite me much, so I thought that maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I only liked the idea of love, not actually being in love. I wasn’t sure, but when I saw the ad for the arranged marriage, I applied on a whim….” he admits softly. “Because I didn’t think they would want me, but they did and I realized that I really wanted it too! I forgot what it was like to want someone...”

“Oh,” she says, dumbfounded with lips parted.  

Marinette is stuck staring at the smile buried in his cheek as he looks fondly over the ocean. The sun always finds him, making his hair gleam, and she wonders how she got so lucky. She—wow. Adrien looks at her then, his face prompted into a bemusing smile at her expression.

“Hmmm?”

“I just...you wanted me?” she asks, heat crawling up her neck.

Oh god, that sounds so dumb to say out loud, she thinks and wishes she could stuff the previous words back into her mouth.

(A part of her whispers that she won’t be good enough, that he’s going to realize the ugliness that hides under all her pretty fabric, that she’s just going to be nice in the way the others were nice .

Another part of her tells that little voice to fuck off.)

Adrien rubs the back of his neck, bashful and happy. “Of course I did. I— actually filmed a video diary for my future bride— you,” he emphasizes. “It’s really grossly sappy and I’ve been meaning to give it to you…so you could see how happy I was when I found out I had a match, but—after I learned that you were my wife I was so embarrassed.  Because we knew each other, ha ha. It’s part of your wedding gift, actually...”

Marinette stops breathing before scampering to her feet. “Up, up, up!”

She pulls her husband up to stand with her, a good bit away from the edge, and she shuffles her feet, feeling herself swinging side to side.

“Yes?” Adrien asks, amused at her antics.

With no grace and complete wiggling, she blurts. “I—can I hug you? I really want to hug you.”

“Uh.”

“Like, I know we just started kissing and things and cuddle,” she starts, halfway to shouting awkwardly. “Like yesterday!  But I just—really want to throw myself at you and have you catch me and oh my god, who says these things to their husband?!” she finishes, throwing her hands up in the air.

Adrien’s face goes blank, his grey scarf flapping in the wind before he breaks down in laughter, doubling over. “Oh my god, Marinette,” he wheezes. “You’re—you’re—”

Mortification crawls up her throat and Marinette covers her face with her hands, turning around so he can’t look at her. Embarrassment rolls off her in waves.   

Adrien laughter settles down and a kind hand is at her shoulder, dragging her into his arms. “You never have to ask to hug or kiss me, Marinette,” he tells her, mirth and good things intertwined with his words. “I’m yours, anytime. And it’s okay! I feel like a dweeb too just about every second. I feel really exposed. This is...hard, and I get that.”

She buries her face at the base of his throat. “Yeah. Exposed is a great way to put it, you know. We’re already married and everything is moving fast.”

His touch feels warm through her jacket. “G-good fast?” he swallows.

“I think so,” she hums and sinks into his embrace. “They told me that this would happen. The doctors. That this wouldn’t be easy.”

He lays his head atop hers and takes a little breath. “Yeah. Me too. It’s different when it’s happening than when you think about it.”

Peace caresses over them and Marinette feels so warm. And protected, if she has to be honest. She’d didn’t think her husband would make her feel at such ease, but maybe that’s the benefit of marrying someone you know in a blind marriage. You can let your guard down around them a lot better and—

It’s been a long, long time since someone has made her feel as comfortable as this. She grins to herself a bit, different green eyes flashing in her mind followed by some god awful pun.

Cat-ch you later, my favorite Bugaboo.   

“Gah, okay, you know what,” she declares as she pulls back from his embrace. “Let’s stop being sappy. I don’t think I can handle baring my soul anymore for today!”

Adrien rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “Okay, wife,” he says as he brushes his lips against her forehead. “What do you have in mind?”

Marinette smirks, looking devilish. “Well, I think I saw a pub or two in town. And there should be some music. I think that would be an awesome way to end our honeymoon.”

“You want to go out?”

“Nah,” she dismisses playfully. “I want to go drinking. Think you can keep up?”

Adrien waits a moment to respond before breaking out in a challenging grin. “Oh, I’ll drink you under the table!”

Marinette laughs and pushes him away. “Ha, I highly doubt that. I’m practically a tank!”

She dances away from him, her step springy with her excitement. The sun is higher in the sky now, trickling further towards noontime than morning.    

“A tank?”

“Yeah, dude. I outdrink everyone. It’s like my special power.”

“Okay, Nino,” Adrien snorts before saying, “Look, I was a model. I think I know how to party.”

Marinette puts her hands up in a mock sign of surrender. “Not saying you don’t, but I’m just saying I know how to better. That’s all.”

Adrien laughs and grabs her hand, leading her back towards the path they took before. Their steps are in line as they descend away from the cliff. “Okay, you’re so on. Tonight, I shall show you who the real victor will be.”

All around them, the mountains are green and alive and Marinette feels just the same. She feels just as tall, just as powerful, just as everlasting.

“Sounds good, but let’s play a game.”

“What do you have in mind? I don’t know many drinking games for two...”

Marinette kisses the back of his hand. “The bigger the drink, the bigger the secret. I mean, since you’re totally able to handle it, you should be able to open up. Right, husband?”

“Doesn't that seem counterproductive? Who needs to take the shot? You or me?”

“If I want to learn something big about you, I need to take the drink. Same goes for you. Fair?”

“...did you just come up with this on the fly?”

Marinette laughs. “No! Alya and I play it, though now that we know everything about each other, we just drink our sad lives away.”

Adrien shakes his head. “Ah, a noble pastime,” he responds sagely. “Anyway, you’re on! I hope you’re prepared to bare your soul to me again. I gotta beat Alya now.”

“In your dreams, Adrien. You’re the one who is going to have to tell me everything.”

“Do you think you’re ready?” he jokes. “I mean. We have only been married for four days. We can just, you know, take things slow?”

“Adrien, let me tell you something,” she says. “If I didn’t jump feet first, I would never do anything. So. We’re gonna do this!”

He laughs. “Okay, Marinette. Whatever you want. I just want you to know that we have all the time in the world. I am excited to go out though. It will be a fun way to spend the last night. I’m a little sad that the plane got fixed so quickly.”

They take a swift left and find some other hikers on the path going the way they just came. Both couples exchange pleasantries, waves and big smiles and Marinette would be lying if she didn’t say that she liked the way everyone thought she and Adrien were a real couple. They don’t know them, but to strangers, they seem happy.

“Me too,” she agrees. “We’ll have to come back when the weather is warmer. And I know that we can take things slow, but I’m just—I don’t know, itching to do something crazy?”

“Like marry a stranger?” he teases.

“Mmmm. Pretty sure I’ve done that.”

“Ah, you’re right. You have,” he says. “God, I hope there’s no turbulence tomorrow.”

“Eh, we’re leaving in the evening, right? So we can just sleep through most of it. Plus, even if we’re hungover, we can have some of Ebbi’s mom’s breakfast.”

“Thank god for that, but I’m going to miss her cooking.”

“Well, we’ll just have to go to my parents’ the morning after we get back. My dad seriously loves breakfast.”

Adrien dramatically faces the heavens, mouthing praises. Marinette tries her best not to laugh, but fails miserably.

He’s kinda perfect, she thinks. She hasn’t laughed so easily with someone in a long time.

His face shifts and as he slows his pace, she matches his. They take their time, just like the clouds rolling in overhead.

“That reminds me,” he starts, “we’re supposed to go house hunting when we get back. Find a place that’s ours rather than staying at mine or yours. Do you have any preferences?”

Marinette remembers that email, the one that said that house hunting is to start immediately after they get back from the honeymoon. Truthfully, she just wants to rest, but apparently when you’re part of a six week study, there is no such thing.

“My shop isn’t too far from the university you work at, if I remember correctly,” she mentions. “So, we can try my neighborhood? I just—not to talk about finances right now,” she quickly adds, “but you do know that I can help pay for things. Even if you’re, like, super rich.”

“I know,” he says, his fingers drumming on the back of her hand. “We’ll figure it out when we get home. There’s no rush and even if you can, I don’t mind paying for everything.”

She presses her lips together, annoyance starting to surface. “Well, yes. I know, but I do. I just—”

Adrien must feel the same. “Marinette, I’m serious. I’ll take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

“And Adrien,” she says. “I’m serious. I’ll help and take care of you.”

“Mari—” he starts to say.

But she cuts him off, determined and keeping her growing irritation at bay. “Can we drop this? I really don’t want to talk about money.”

Adrien sighs and takes a deep breath. “No, I understand. This isn’t the time and place. We can talk more about it later.”

“Exactly,” she says, and the mood shifts back into something lighter. “Besides, I just want to enjoy what time we have left before we go home.”

Adrien hums in agreement as they wind around some trees, their fingers grazing over moss covered rocks. They don’t say much, the air between them better but not the same as when they found the ocean, the sun shining and bright.

“Oh my god,” Adrien says before breaking out in hysterical laughter.

Marinette shoots him a funny look, raising an eyebrow. “Um, are you okay?”

“I just remembered.”

“What?”

Gesturing to the air, Adrien manages to calm down enough, gasping in between breaths until he keeps his smile only slightly twitching. “When I was trying to tell Nino, I took him to come pick out wedding rings, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Marinette says, curious and confused.

“When we were there, he mentioned that if things didn’t go with my girl because I was obviously buying jewelry for a girl, I should date you .”

And it might be because her left hand is clasped in his, the glittering diamond refracting the rays streaming through the trees above them and—

This is real, isn’t it? We’re real, you and me.

A smile tugs at her mouth. “He did not.”

“He did! I was like, dude, I’m actually getting married and lo and behold,” he says, throwing an arm around her as they walk side by side, “here we are.”

Marinette wraps her own arm around his side, his hip digging into her waist. “Here we are.”

Their steps align like the sun at high noon as they descend the mountain back to civilization.

The moon is fat as Adrien and Marinette walk to the pub bundled up in thick coats, breath misting in the night air. Snowfall from a few days ago has turned to slush, the sidewalks black and illuminated by store lights instead. Laughter rings in the air, people rushing to and fro from pub to restaurant to pub again.

Ebbi is with them too, carrying a large guitar case slung over a shoulder. His bright red hair is pulled back, and he reminds Adrien of Jagged Stone. Easygoing, tall, and cool. No pet alligator though.

“I’m so glad you both decided to come out tonight,” Ebbi says. “My band is playing and I promise you that it’s going to be awesome.”

Marinette grins, her pink lipstick looking plum in the darkness. “I’m sure you’re going to be great! Do you sing too?”

Ebbi awkwardly tugs on his scarf. “Kinda. I’m getting better at it. My cousin is a lot better and her voice is kill-er.”

“Which one is she again? Was she at the big breakfast?”

Ebbis snorts. “She’s always at the big breakfast. Ah, but Alice was the one manning the stove. If she never lives her dream of being a rock star, she wants to open a really fancy restaurant on the island. Serve celebrities and whatnot.”

Adrien pipes up and a part of him wonders why he must always talk about food. “That’s really dope. I hope she gets both though. A rock star chef would be super awesome. She’d serenade me while serving some soup.”

Marinette laughs. “Wow, say that five times fast.”

“Well, I think she’d sere—”

“Adrien! I was kidding!”

“Sure you were, that’s why you dared me to say it.”

“Wow, Kim much?” Marinette huffs. “I didn’t dare you!”

He doesn’t say anything, but her nose crinkles when she’s miffed. It’s kinda really adorable. Okay, super really adorable. Her hair is pinned away from her face and her cheeks are rosy from both the cold and her blush. Also, if he has to be honest—and he’s usually always honest—her eyeliner makes her eyes look more dangerous, and, well—  

—Adrien might have a thing for dangerous women who could definitely punch someone’s lights out when needed.    

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously—”

“Okay, lovebirds,” Ebbi says, breaking their banter with an easy smile. “Enough fighting. We’re here. I hope you brought some strong stomachs. Prepare to drink, motherfuckers.”

“You gonna drink with us too, Ebbi?” Marinette asks.

He shakes his head. “Most likely not. I can’t drink when I perform or I’ll throw up, but I will come check on you guys later!”  

“Sounds good, man,” Adrien says, giving his friend a strong handshake.

Ebbi heads inside as Adrien and Marinette stand outside the small venue. It looks like any other bar he’s seen. Brown walls and dark windows. Voices from inside pour outside and music plays a little loudly.

Adrien grabs Marinette’s hand and opens the door. “Are you ready to lose, my dear?”

She smirks. “In your dreams, sweetheart .”

Sweat, booze, and good vibes instantly hit them in the face. It’s mildly crowded and the atmosphere is lively, everyone happy as they chat and grab drinks from the bar. On the stage the band sets up, Ebbi greeting his fellow bandmates with an enthusiastic cheer. They pause for a moment to say hello before going back to setting up.

Marinette pulls Adrien to the bar. “What’ll be your poison?”

Adrien smirks. “Ladies first. I’ll have what you’ll have. I’ll even pay this round.”

She rolls her eyes, stifling a laugh. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Moneybags. Okay, let’s see. Let’s start easy,” she says. Turning to the bartender, she points at an expensive bottle of vodka. “Two shots!”  

(She says it in minced Faroese learned from a haphazard lesson taught on the walk down from the inn.)

Adrien opens up his phone and loosely translates the words to put it on a tab when the man delivers the drinks. Both he and Marinette grab their glasses. “So, how big is a shot versus a sip before we start? For secrets, that is,” he asks.

She taps her chin in thought. “I think a sip is something simple like favorite colors, a shot is like a medium secret, and to drink the whole glass or whoever buys the next round gets a big secret. Sound fair?”

Adrien laughs. “I hope you brought your wallet, Mrs. Moneybags, because if not, then I get lots of big secrets.”

Marinette points at her purse at her side, smirking. “Don’t worry, I got cash, so it’ll be even-stevens.”

“Alright, alright. Drink your drink, wife, and tell me a medium-sized secret.”

Marinette smiles and downs her drink, visibly shaking as the icy drink goes through her. “Ah, okay,” she starts. “Let’s see, for a medium-sized secret. I was actually rejected from my fashion school when I first applied.”

Adrien blinks, a bit stunned. Had he heard right? “What?”

“Yep, totally rejected. Little letter in a little envelope and everything. It was awful. I just—couldn’t accept that I was rejected, so…I might have...you know, gone back and demanded that they evaluate my application. I’m, what do they say, headstrong and stubborn? So yeah, that’s what I did.”    

“Oh my god, Marinette, what did they do?”

She looks so satisfied when he asks, smug and pleased as she leans against the bar. Adrien is right, he thinks he likes dangerous women, and there is nothing more dangerous than Marinette—a woman who at first glance appears cute and calm, but if you peel back a few of her layers, she is ruthless and cunning. It’s…intoxicating, and he’s not talking about the vodka.

“So,” she starts, her finger tracing the rim of her shotglass, acting coy. “The director actually came out and stood really important-like and told me if I was able to create a brand new dress using a potato sack and a garbage bag that was actually stylish and wear it to the office the next day, he’d admit me. So I did. Much to his surprise.

“We found out a few days later that they wanted to accept me,” she adds sheepishly, her coy demeanor slipping away and becoming awkward, “but my high school didn’t put the correct graduation date so they thought I didn’t have my basic education. Which was really embarrassing? But commendable, he told me.”

Adrien wheezes with laughter. “Oh my god, so you really marched up to the school wearing a sack and a trash bag. That’s so wonderful.”

“It was summer and really hot so yeah, not so much, but,” she singsongs. “Your turn!”

“Ah, yes. My turn. Hmm, okay. Um, well, did you know that when I moved to America I did acting for a little bit and starred in an indie film?” he tells her with a cringe.

“Um, what?” Marinette asks, somewhat giggling.

Adrien pulls out his phone and googles it for her. The movie is titled The One In Your Arms and the cover is Adrien and this pretty redhead laying in the grass. Underneath it, Marinette can clearly see that it has 3/10 stars.

Marinette steals the phone and clicks the description.

Meet Tristan, lonely French boy far from home. Meet Annie, the quirky country girl trying to see the world. They meet at a crossroads when one is trying to settle somewhere while the other is trying to run away. Of course, love tends to get in the way.

Marinette lets out a peal of laughter. “Oh my god, Adrien. This looks glorious. Can we please watch it? How long is it?”

He sighs with defeat, but smiles. “It’s a little over an hour. And we can watch it. It’s awful, but it’s a good movie to watch when drinking.”

“Excellent! Okay, we need more drinks. Let’s get some actual drinks.”

Marinette fishes out some cash from her wallet and hands it to the bartender. Adrien orders a whiskey sour while Marinette gets a margarita. Two tangy drinks for some tangy people, Adrien thinks, but doesn’t say. That would be extremely weird.  

“Okay, now that we both have ordered drinks, big secrets are up for grabs!” she exclaims as they settle into a secluded booth on the other side of the bar.

Adrien smiles, holding his glass up to clink hers. “Easy there tiger, let me sip some, okay?”

They exchange small secrets for a while.  His favorite color is green, hers is pink. They both enjoy cracking the shell of a creme brule. She’s never had enchiladas before, and Adrien has never tried crawfish. Adrien learned Chinese because at first he thought that was the language people in anime spoke when he was little. It all started with a tutor who only had Dragonball dubbed in Chinese, didn’t even realize that Japan was an actual place until he was about nine. Marinette didn’t learn to tie her shoes until she was ten.

Adrien finishes his drink first. “Ah! Tell me something big!” he demands with an easy smile.

Marinette sighs and downs her drink right after. “Okay, so we both know that I had a big crush on you, right?”

Adrien nods, his face flush and smile wide. “Yes, this has been brought up many times now, much to my amusement.”

She narrows her eyes at him and kicks his shoe, making him yelp in surprise. “Anyway,” she says loudly. “I may have been a crazy girl with a crush. Only slightly. Intensely?” she says, wincing. “And I tried asking you to the movies and may have left you a voicemail calling you hot stuff…”

Adrien pauses for a moment, thinking back, tapping his chin. “I..I don’t remember this?”

Marinette takes a deep breath and stares at the ice in her glass, her straw swirling the cubes. “Exactly. Because, well, I might have stolen your phone and deleted the voicemail?”

In the background, the band introduces themselves and starts to play, people in the crowd cheering. Adrien says nothing and neither does Marinette.

He swallows and quietly asks. “What?”

Marinette awkwardly looks up at him, fiddling with a lock of her hair that slipped from behind her ear. “I stole your phone to delete a voicemail because I accidentally called you hot stuff when trying to ask you to the movies.”

“Hot stuff?”

“Yes,” she confirms, eyes looking away.

“As you thought I was hot? Stuff?”

“...Yes.”

“And you deleted the voicemail?”

Marinette doesn’t say anything this time, her eyes far away, her cheeks darkening from the light of the room as he stares at her profile. She looks beautiful, he thinks, the shiney silver of her necklace turning technicolor. The black leather of her jacket sloping her over her shoulder, the magenta color of her top, the way her hair is slicked behind her ears. She looks like an editorial piece. But she’s still Marinette, nervous and sweet in the way her body shakes in the way her knees are bouncing, chewing on the inside of her cheek, her blush crawling up her neck.

This moment is perfect and Adrien decides that he’s happy.

He laughs deeply from his belly and clutches his sides, in part at finally reacting to Marinette and in part finally relishing in his own feelings. “Oh my god, Marinette, you should have left the voicemail! That would have been the best! I wouldn’t have known what to do and would have been so confused. Oh my god!”

He can see it now, fourteen year old him panicking and asking Plagg what to do, but the little god would have gave awful advice. Most likely would have told him to just stick to cheese than girls. He could see himself asking Ladybug, blushing and stumbling and utterly a mess. It would have been fun he thinks.

He briefly wonders if he would have said yes.  

Marinette’s tension slips from her shoulders. “You’re not mad?”

Adrien wipes his eyes, feeling warm and light. Contentment washes over him as he leans back in his plush seat. “Why would I be mad?  This happened years ago! I honestly think this is hysterical.”

“Oh, good to know,” she says with a small smile.

He reaches across the table and takes her hand, his thumb rubbing her knuckles. “Just one thing.”

“Yes?” Marinette asks, leaning closer.

If Adrien was a smidge braver, he’d kiss her right now. He wants too, but they’re in a room filled with people and the things between him and Marinette are overwhelming. Wonderful, but overwhelming and he’s constantly on edge. In the best of ways though.

“You have to call me hot stuff for now on when you ask me out on dates,” he smirks. “Like it’s now a requirement.”

She throws rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Haha, sure. I’ll be sure to ask you every other Friday, okay?”

“As long as I get to ask you out on those Fridays you’re not asking me out.”

Marinette places her other hand on top of his, her fingertips cool to his skin. “Let me check my calendar, but I think there’s an opening for you.”

Adrien sends her an appreciative smile and kisses her fingers. “I’ll take any day you’ll give me.”

Marinette grins and the still moment between them hits Adrien that it’s his turn to tell her something big .  

He takes a deep breath and composes himself before moving to sit beside of her. Marinette only shoots him a questioning look, but scoots over, twisting her body to face him. Their knees knock as he reaches for her hands again.  “Okay, so my turn for a big secret. Let’s see. It’s going to be less fun, but I promise you it’s quite drama filled and important for you to know. And I’m gonna chicken out if I don’t tell you now.”

“Oh...okay?” she says, her brow quirking. “Whatever it is, I’m all ears.”  

“So, you know how I didn’t have a mom? Kinda?”

She pets the back of his hand. “Yeah. I thought she passed away,” she says softly.

“Well, yeah. We thought so too,” he groans, trying to keep his voice even. “Like ‘went missing and never came home because she was dead’ kind of thing, you know. Like in a soap opera.”

“That does...like a soap opera plot line,” she concedes.

Adrien closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get gather the words he wants to say. His heart is beating his chest and he’s torn because he can still remember the way his mother’s hand would comb his hair, the way she would tuck him into bed at night. She was his best friend for so long until she was gone.

He lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah well, here’s the goddamn plot twist.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he sighs. Twirling his finger he says, “Ding dong, my beloved mama is not actually dead and is alive and well and shows up to my dad’s funeral.”

Marinette blinks at him a moment, before her lips curl into an unpleasant frown.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yep,” he says bitterly with a tight smile. “Reveals her living self at my dad’s funeral,” he sneers. “Mourning him and looking like she hasn’t aged a damn day and I’m here crying, thinking I lost both my parents…” he trails, trying to reel in his burning feelings. “One to an “accident” and the other one because he was so heartbroken that he couldn't live without her.”

Marinette’s smiles solemnly for a moment before throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. “I’m so, so, so, sorry.”

Her breath tickles the crook of his neck and he feels better as he wraps his arms around her and holds her close too. She’s a good anchor point and keeps the bad thoughts from that day away.

He settles his cheek atop her head. “Of course you’re sorry. You’re a good person,” he says. He then sighs and plays with the edges of her hair. “I’m sorry for telling you this. I told you this wasn’t a fun secret, but I really need to tell you this since you’re my wife.”

He kisses her cheek too before pulling away slightly, and bluntly says. “Anyway, long story short is that my mom is alive and is not of sound mind? She will show up from time to time despite the fact that I have a restraining order against her. She claims she’s from a different timeline and she, my father, and I are supposed to be a happy family. Also , she swears that I should still be thirteen.”

“Wow, Adrien. What the actual fuck,” she awkwardly laughs.

He doesn’t blame her. It’s either laugh and cry and it’s easier to laugh how bizarre his mom is and the whole not being dead thing then cry about it.

(And he hates being angry about it. He hates it the most of all.)

“Yeah, but she’s pretty harmless, just not well. And I know that I should be more sympathetic towards her, but I can’t. She can’t even tell me where she was for all those years,” he says flatly. “I do give her money though, I just can’t be around her. And she will most likely pop up when we get home and—”

Marinette places a hand on Adrien’s face, stilling him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you told me. This is. Wow. A lot to take in, but thank you. I’m sorry your life is a soap opera. You know, missing moms who actually are alive and blind arranged marriages to people you actually know. Quite a tough life for a rich ex-model turned physics professor who happens to be the king of a fashion empire.”

Adrien smiles, and this time it’s real. “Well, the blind marriage part isn’t so bad. Nor is being a professor. That’s fun too.”

“Okay, professor, do you have some dancing shoes?” Marinette wonderfully says for a change of topic.

He chuckles and is ever thankful that she’s his wife.

“Ah, m’lady,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “I possess the best dancing shoes.”

Marinette glances down at his feet, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes, kind sir. I see your sneakers are quite the glass slippers this footwear season.”

“Pshh. As if these are sneakers. Laces do not sneakers make; these are casual dress shoes,” he defends. “See, it even has a little flare with three black stripes on the side against some nice grey suede. C’mon Marinette, you’re a designer.”

She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Men’s fashion is okay. I will admit my shoe designs for men are more basic and extremely casual. Shoes are just their own animal.”

“Nah, I agree,” he nods. “But I’d love to see your designs! And you’re more than welcome to look at my father’s designs if you wanted, you know? He has thousands of them that we keep stored away.”

Marinette gapes at him, speechless. “Seriously? You’d let me see your father’s designs?”

Adrien smiles, wondering how she couldn’t have known that already. “Of course. You’re my wife, Marinette. And you’re also my friend.”

Marinette doesn’t say anything but leans forward, brushing her lips against Adrien’s in a soft and simple kiss. He feels like he’s been zapped. “You’re amazing, you know?” she whispers before kissing him once more. Before he can reply, she grabs his hand and pushes him out of the seat. “Dance with me!”

Marinette guides him to the dance floor, weaving in and out of people, and he feels like he’s stepped into a blessed dream. One where he’s safe and happy and warm and—

Adrien’s heart fills as the lights flash off Marinette’s skin. She looks like an ethereal spirit, grinning in the darkness as she loops her arms around his neck. He places his hands on the small of her back, his thumbs brushing her hip bones. She’s beautiful and for the millionth time, takes his breath away.

He leans down and kisses her, captures her mouth with his and Marinette closes the space between them. She tastes like good things and a bright future. Things are so natural and effortless with her, the way her mouth is warm against his and he feels so light. Like she’s always been by his side. He—

—well, he doesn’t know that for sure, but he feels like he could. Give him a week and he’s positive that Marinette will own every space in his heart.

From the stage, they hear Ebbi start to sing, enticing the crowd to dance and holler with them. The atmosphere is intoxicating, the beat syncing with their hearts as they drag their hands up and down the other’s body. Her fingers wind into his hair, her nails grazing the base of his skull and his knees feel weak. He holds her closer, pressing her to him as if he can’t breathe anymore. She holds him just as close, her breath filling his lungs.

He nips at her bottom lip and wickedly grins in the kiss when she moans at the way his hands hold the back of her neck. The world is perfect, the way he feels fire burning under his skin, joy blossoming in his chest, and desire rushing to his head.

Marinette pulls away breathless. “Wow.”

He kisses the tip of her nose.”Wow, indeed.”

She wrinkles his nose and looks fondly at him. Marinette brushes her lips against his for a moment for skipping out of his hold, laughing madly as she disappears into the crowd. Adrien blinks before laughing to himself, running his hands in his already mussed hair, never wanting this dream to end. She’s back minutes later holding some Jell-O shots and a wondrous, dangerous grin.  

Adrien balks, laughter at the edge of his voice. “Those are sneaky things and you know it.”

“Maybe I’m a sneaky thing,” she says with a wink.

His heart jumps at that, twisting with pleasure, breathlessly.

“Oh, I know that at least.”

They share more medium-sized secrets. Marinette didn’t have any friends until Alya. Adrien almost ran away from home when his mother disappeared, but he couldn’t leave his father alone. Marinette was almost engaged in her last relationship but said no because she found out the guy was cheating. Adrien started up a charity in his father’s name for children to go to art school.

Ebbi jumps down the from the stage a while later, happy and smiling and puts an arm around each of them. “Okay, I can drink now,” he wolfishly grins.

And drink they do. Long forgotten is the game, no more secrets, just smiles and laughs as they all drink, sing bad karaoke, and drink shot after shot.

It’s a blur, a wonderful and crazy blur as everyone dances and the booze tastes like Marinette’s kisses.Or Marinette’s kisses taste like booze. He’s not quite sure, but it doesn’t matter at the moment as they walk back to their hotel in the chilly, still night, stopping at every other lamppost or wall to kiss each other. On the mouth, on their necks, taste the other and keep warm in the below-freezing temperatures.

It’s like a hazy dream, not real, but too real to be fake. It’s wonderful as they try to tiptoe upstairs to their room, trying not wake everyone by their laughter. In the back of his mind, he knows that Plagg will be annoyed that he stumbled in at two in the morning, but hopefully the little god will understand that there is a beautiful woman who is demanding his attention at this hour and he’s married to her.

Marinette sheds her coat and he does the same, and he kisses her hard on the mouth and pushes her to lay on the bed. She follows his lead and giggles, her hands in his hair and bringing his mouth to hers. Her tongue traces his lips and he’s helpless at her touch.

She bites at his lower lip, kissing him fiercely before breaking them apart. Sighing happily, she rolls them to lay on their sides.“Hi,” she slurs, her eyes wide and bright.

Her mascara has smudged a little, her lipstick gone from her mouth, but Adrien has never seen someone more alluring.

Adrien feels lightheaded—happily drunk—as he giggles too. “Hi.”

“Did ya drink more than me?” she asks.

Adrien tries to count, he really does, but he just blurts. “15. I had 15.”

It seems like the right answer. How is he supposed to count anyway when there’s such a stunning woman in front of him? And she’s his wife? Counting is impossible. Just impossible.

“Aw man, you did drink more than me,” Marinette yawns before kisses his nose. “Okay, I have a big secret for you.”

He settles in on his side of the mattress, his hand resting in the dip of her waist. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmmm. Biggest best secret ever.”

“Tell ‘e,” he slurs,  because of both sleep and drink. Sh

She giggles again and gets up from the bed, swaying a little bit. “Okay,” she says to herself and tries to make a serious expression. “Just kidding! No big secret for you right now!”

Adrien pouts, drunk and sleepily. “What, really? We—I played your game.”

Marinette sits down on the bed, the light illuminating her like an angel. His angel. She gins and boops his nose. “And I won. Or you won,” she mumbles to herself. She looks back at him and smirks though, holding her chin in her hand. “But like I’d ever say spots on—” she scoffs.

Marinette’s eyes become enormous then, her words seeming to have sobered her up as she brings her hands to her face in horror.

“No, no, no! I take it back!”

Her hands fly to her ears, trying to take off her earrings when—     

In the distance, he only slightly hears a little scream before the room is bathed in pink before—

Ladybug stands before him, alert and beautiful and in his room and her face is twisted in terror.  Her costume hugs her womanly curves, her chest and thighs covered in all black in addition to her trademark red and black spots—she looks lethal with sharp blue eyes and her yo-yo modified to look more deadly at her hip.  

“Shit, shit, shit!” she says and he’s not sure if he’s ever heard his lady actually swear before, but—

“Ladybug?” he stupidly asks.

She winces, nervously chewing her lip. “You’re dreaming!” she blurts.

Adrien tries to sit up on the bed, shaking his head. “I, uh, I’m pretty sure I’m not dreaming.”

His brain is really foggy right now, the light the superhero look fuzzy. He wonders where Marinette is though he wants to ask if, well, if Ladybug is—

“...Marinette?”

Ladybug inhales a deep breath before steeling herself with a grim expression. She swallows hard, her fingers trembling at her sides for a moment, before she tightens her hands into fists.  

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she whispers.

He doesn’t get to ask her why she’s sorry or why Marinette isn't here or why Marinette doesn’t just say that she's Ladybug. Can’t  when her right hand swinging towards the side of his head and—

(Nothing, you see, because it’s just as Ladybug said. He’s dreaming.)

(He has to be.)

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