#Ladynoir fic

[literaphobe]

two virgin losers

kittykittymeowmeow: My superhero partner (23F) recently asked me (23M) to take her virginity. I’m guessing she thought I was some type of sex god whore, but I’m actually also a huge virgin. For some reason, my lack of sexual prowess made her double down on her decision? She got kind of excited for us to platonically lose our virginities to each other and that made me panic. I mayyyy have told her I don’t want to be deflowered by another virgin, just in case she sucks at sex and I wind up hating it. The truth is, I think she’d be great at sex (she also thinks this). I think she’s amazing at everything she tries. I’ve also fallen in love with her multiple times and I will almost definitely get obsessed with her again if I sleep with her. Unfortunately, even though she’s really mad at me right now, I want her so bad I think I might die. Um… AITA?

sorry. reddit’s not actually involved in this fic. please still read it <3 (post s5 fic, they’re 23)

cover art by @zodoods <3 + tvl art discord

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | chapter 12

[aidanchaser]

Close Your Eyes [Remix]

Remixed from @jennagrinsoverml's fic Close Your Eyes (E). I had to go the extra bit to double the smut because I wanted to make some pussy eating jokes.

Thank you @ccboomer for beta reading and @mlsquaredance for organizing! I had so much fun with this remix in particular.

They’d begun with kisses and worked their way up from that, but Ladybug was getting tired of being backed against brick walls and plaster chimneys. If she was going to rut against Chat’s thigh and smash his face against hers, she wanted to be smashed against something with a little bit of give.

“I know a spot,” she’d said.

He’d quirked an eyebrow, but he’d followed.

She led him onto her very own rooftop balcony. As she draped herself over the patio chair that she so often sat in to sketch, he asked in a wary whisper, “Isn’t this Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony?”

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her face cool and even tried for an alluring smirk. “It’ll be fine,” she promised him. “You can pull the table over the trapdoor if you’re worried.”

He rocked back on his heels, still clinging to the railing, like it was a threshold he wasn’t ready to cross. But his hesitation was brief, dulled to nothing by the longing stretched out between them.

He tugged her small, round table over the trapdoor to ensure that they wouldn’t be interrupted, though she knew for a fact no one was going to come for them. Her parents were visiting family, and her bedroom would remain unoccupied, at least until this was done.

No sooner had the base of the table crossed over the hinges of the trapdoor than had Ladybug pulled her Chat back into her. They tumbled onto the hammock-like seat in a tangle of limbs. She hardly noticed the way his legs dug into her side and his hands scrambled for purchase as she settled beneath him, focused on nothing but drawing his taste onto her tongue like he was her first sip of sweet wine.

He found his place eventually, lips locked with hers, hands gripped onto the frame of the chair over her head, and legs draped over either side of her, forcing their hips flush. Her hands slid down his back, finding and squeezing the base of him, drawing him against her. He moaned into her mouth as she inhaled sharply and suddenly his lips were gone—not gone, just drifting down her cheek, her neck—his breath was hot against her skin where her hair and suit left just enough room for his lips to press and his breath to burn warm and heady.

“Chat,” she whispered, breathless. The overhang provided a semblance of privacy, but she didn’t dare be loud.

“I want to touch you,” he murmured into her neck.

“You are touching me, you silly kitty,” she said. “I wish you were kissing me.”

“I want to touch you properly.” His whisper turned into a whine, keening into the space behind her ear as she rolled her hips up against his in an effort to bring him back to her.

“There’s nothing proper about this.”

His hands slid down to her hips, pressing them into the pale pink-striped canvas and his lips pulled away. His green eyes were serious as he looked down at her, and she wondered what on earth he was thinking.

“My lady,” he said, voice painfully serious, “I would like to engage in some cannibalism this evening.”

It took a moment to strike her, but when it did, she burst into a loud, brief laugh, entirely out of her control. She pressed her wrist into her mouth to stifle her laughter, and when she finally had control of her breath again, she managed, “You are ridiculous.”

“That’s not the word to describe me.” He pouted, but she smirked.

“And what’s the word to describe you?”

“Horny out of my fucking mind.”

She could tell. She tried again to push up against him, but his hands were firm. “That was six words,” she said, hoping to score at least one victory point.

And it seemed like she’d won. He collapsed back against her. His hands trailed loosely up her sides, against her arms, drawing her hands up and over her head. She leaned up for a kiss, but he turned his head at the last moment, and she only caught the corner of his mouth. His lips found her neck once more and he breathed, “Please, my lady.”

And oh mon dieu, how could she ignore a plea like that?

“On one condition,” she said.

“Anything.”

She reconsidered. “Two conditions.”

“Of course.”

“You wear a blindfold.”

“Kinky,” and his breath seemed to travel down her spine in a course of sparks and shivers. “What’s the second condition?”

“You let me return the favor.”

He went very still. She could no longer feel his breath on her neck and for a moment she wondered if she’d fully stopped his heart and her Chat was no more.

Then, in the most breathless whisper, so quiet she could hardly make it out, “You don’t owe me anything—”

“I want to.” She used his stillness to slip her wrist out of his grip; she slid her fingers up through his hair and pressed her lips against his ear. “If you’re going to eat pussy tonight, I want a taste, too.”

His laughter was buried in her neck, but she felt it reverberate through her bones, and a grin split her face. It was rare that she could turn the tables on him when it came to jokes, so she relished the moments when it worked in her favor.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” he finally said.

The trouble, they found, as they often did in their rooftop and back alley makeout moments, was logistics. The lounge chair Ladybug had led them to worked wonderfully for stretching out and kissing lazily. It was poorly suited for arranging lips to lower lips.

His hands found her hips once again and this time he picked her up off of the chair and dropped her onto the table.

“Oh—” she gasped as she he knelt between her knees and looked up at her with his eager, mischievous green eyes. There was no trace of hesitation in them and she could not help but wonder if he’d done something like this before.

He unfastened his lengthy, tail-like belt and handed it to her. She bit down on her lip, but took it reverently, as if it were his very soul bared to her.

It had taken her a long time to recognize her Chat’s sincerity. He joked so often and about so much that she had not realized that the way he loved the world was the same as the way he loved her, and that he loved her as if she were his world.

It had taken her a long time to realize that he was her world, too.

“You’re sure about this?” she asked, as if he was the one who was uncertain. She trailed a hand through his hair, gloved fingertips grazing against the base of his leather cat ears and he leaned up into her touch.

He pressed his mouth to her thigh and murmured, “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

She swallowed. Then with more care and grace than she had ever taken with anything, she fastened his belt over his eyes. Once she was sure it was snug, she whispered, “Spots off.”

His hands found the fastener of her pants so quickly that she had a flash of panic that he could still see her, but she reminded herself that her Chat would never betray her trust that way.

He tugged on the waistband of her pants, and she threw her weight back on her hands to give him leverage. She kicked off her shoes, and he pulled her pants over her ankles and down to the floor. She pressed up on her hands again so he could tug off the last barrier between him and his goal, but he didn’t take it. Instead, the soft leather pads of his gloves slid along her thigh and up to the elastic edge. He pressed his nose up against her and took in a long breath, then let it out just as slow.

She shivered and her abs and arms trembled as she held perfectly still. Then he pulled, and she was bare.

His lips pressed again into her thigh and he nipped gently at the sensitive flesh. She bit back a yelp tangled in a moan. His lips curved into a smirk against her skin and he moved closer, only to nip again.

He was such a tease.

But before she could complain, his hand splayed across her hip and his thumb angled down, pressing into her clit. He was careful with the claw-like tips of his gloves and she wondered if the tips of his gloves were the very reason he had decided to be intimate with his tongue instead of trying something simpler first.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth as his thumb rubbed against her clit. Her head tipped back and her gaze flooded with stars. They twinkled overhead, winking at her wonton display. Then they disappeared as her eyes went wide and her vision faded into stars of her own. His tongue slipped between her like a needy kiss and she fell back onto her elbows. She no longer saw what was above her, but instead her mind was turned toward him, toward his warm breath against her skin, the faint scrape of claws against the back of her thigh, and the pads of leather pressing into her muscles.

She bit down on another moan as his tongue slipped up to take the place of his thumb. He was so careful with his teeth and claws now, nothing but soft and pliant, and in turn, she went soft and pliant beneath him.

He sucked gently as she drew breath, and as she exhaled his tongue turned flat against her. The rhythm of it was uneven, yet they kept pace with each other. She was unsure if she followed him or he took his cues from her, but they moved as one, ramping up as her breaths quickened.

And then he pulled away and the chill of the evening took his place. But before she could even whine a complaint, his knuckles dragged against her slit and she fell back fully, splayed out on the table and gasping. Her hands groped for purchase and as if he sensed her need, one of his hands slid into hers, fingers between fingers, palm to palm, and she gripped him as if she were falling and he was the ledge that would keep her from dying.

She pushed up into his hand at her waist, tight and taut and holding onto the ecstasy of his smooth leather knuckles against her swelling folds for as long as she could until it swept out of her like the ebbing tide. Her grip relaxed, but his hand did not slow. His knuckles still dragged across her, pressing, massaging, and she twisted beneath him with a moan.

“Chaton,” she murmured, voice uneven and breathless. “Chaton, please.”

He granted her a brief reprieve, withdrawing his hand only to plant another kiss. She whined and tipped her head back and hips up. Her vision spun with vertigo and she bit back the instinct to call for Tikki, to save herself from falling by transforming into Ladybug. She had no need for heroics here. She was in safe hands. She trusted these hands.

But she was going to lose herself if he didn’t give her a break.

She reached forward, sliding her hand along his scalp and down to the nape of his neck. She tugged gently and he obediently fell away. She followed, sitting up once more. She stroked his hair as he leaned his cheek against her thigh. She could not see his eyes, but his lips glistened in the moonlight.

She wanted so badly to peel back the makeshift blindfold. She wanted so badly to see him, to let him see her properly.

But there was nothing proper about this.

She trailed her hand down from his hair to his cheek and brushed her finger along his lips.

“May I return the favor?” she whispered.

For an answer, he took her hand and kissed her fingertips. He pressed his kisses along her wrist, the inside of her forearm, up until he hit the cuff of her jacket. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, his ears seemed to go flat with disappointment as he reached the end of her bare skin.

She pulled him up onto his feet and into a kiss. She moaned as the familiar taste of him melted into the new taste of her own musk that still lingered on his tongue. His hands pressed into her hips, pulling her up against him and her breath hitched as his leather-clad thigh slipped between her legs. She rolled her body against his as she had done so many times in her suit, but bare and exposed like this was a fully new thing. She felt her face grow hot and heat flush into her shoulders and pool in her gut. She was glad for his blindfold. He could not see how properly embarrassed she was even as she rolled her hips into him.

And even though she was supposed to be returning the favor that he had granted her, he seemed more interested in letting her chase a second high against his body as he pulled her tighter against him. His lips again moved past hers, this time to her ear where he nipped gently and another chill went through her body.

“Mon minou?” she murmured into his ear.

He hummed and it was like her entire body reverberated in time with his tune.

“Are you stalling?”

And he went very still, the way he had when she had first suggested they make this an exchange. She recalled his delicate refusal and pulled away from him to get a better look at his face, but his gaze was still hidden from her. She pressed her palm to his cheek and thumbed gently at the leather restraint.

“Chaton, you can tell me no.”

He turned into her palm, pressing another kiss into her skin and this time she waited it out, waited for him to say what was on his mind.

“I don’t want to tell you no,” he finally murmured.

Her heart surged and it took all of her self-control to stay still, to wait for him to finish, for him to name whatever it was that was still holding him back.

“I’m just… nervous,” he finally admitted.

She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Her Chat would give and give, but she knew how hard it was for him to accept something for himself.

“I was nervous,” she said, “but you took care of me. I’d do no less for you.”

“Ladybug is never nervous.”

“Oh, Chaton, I’m nervous all the time.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, long and slow, then he pulled away to murmur, “You should dress before you turn back.”

Her heart ached to lose contact with him, for however brief, but he was right. Even the possibility that he might recognize Marinette’s shoes was too much to risk.

She pulled her pants back on and slid her feet into her ballet flats before whispering, “Tikki, spots on.” As the flash of light faded, he yanked his belt down to his neck.

His eyes were so bright in contrast with the dark night and the dark leather looped around his throat. She surged in for another kiss and he stumbled back. He fell against the balcony railing, back bowing in a fine curve as he sank into her arms. She recognized the trust he was giving her, but she still waited for him to confirm.

“You’re sure about this?” she asked again.

“I am,” he whispered into her mouth.

Though she was reluctant to do so, she stepped away from him again and called on her Lucky Charm. She expected a scarf or a blindfold to fall into her hands so that she could do as she wanted and take all of him without his mask or leather between them.

Instead, what she got was a square foil packet, no bigger than the palm of her hand.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she sighed.

A smile tugged on his lips. “Tikki approves, at least?” he said.

“Yes, but how are you going to detransform now?”

“The better question is how am I not going to? It seems like I have full permission from the universe to bare all my most delicate parts to you.”

“Chat—”

His hands closed around hers and he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Just close your eyes, my lady. I trust you.”

She pursed her lips, but sank down to her knees. She looked up at him, taking one last moment to memorize the wary smile on his lips, the messy, chaotic swoops of his golden hair, and the way his eyes glinted with anticipation and masked mischief.

Then she closed her eyes and leaned against him. The smooth, cool leather of his thigh against her cheek vanished in a flash of light, brilliant even behind her closed eyes, and it was replaced by rough denim. She fumbled for the button of his jeans and tried to will her embarrassment to return to the pit of her stomach. Everything he had done to her had felt deliberate; she felt like she was a teenager again, fumbling in a dark closet and not truly knowing anything about what she was supposed to do.

But she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She had some ideas, even if she’d never actually done this before.

She found the bulge in his pants rather easily, once she started looking. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. He’d been buried nose-deep into her for so long, it was a wonder he hadn’t come already.

With an attempt at the same delicacy he had shown her, she tugged open his jeans and slid her hands beneath the waistband of his briefs. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to open her eyes for a glimpse. She just imagined that they were as black as his suit and pulled them down, freeing his cock.

It bumped against her cheek, but she ignored it. Instead, she pressed her lips against his hip and felt the firm, unyielding line of his pelvis. She would commit a litany of crimes if it meant she could see how those lines drew into a V at his waist. Longingly, she trailed one hand up his stomach, beneath the cotton of his T-shirt, and gauged the shape of his abdomen. The leather bodysuit left nothing to the imagination, true, but there was still so much she hadn’t yet considered. She wished desperately to touch him with her own bare hands, and she felt guilty that she’d hesitated at all when he’d suggested they try this. Now she couldn’t believe they had waited this long.

His breath hitched as she reached his pecs and her fingertips grazed his nipple.

He reached for her wrist and gently guided her hand back down to his groin. She was reluctant to follow his lead, but there would be times other than this. There would be time to explore each other fully later, someday, when they were free to do everything without masks or blindfolds.

She wrapped her hand around his member and rolled her wrist as she moved from tip to base and back. He moaned under her touch, so she repeated the movement. Again, she wished her hands could be bare, but she contented herself with what they had, and what they had was one lucky condom.

She unwrapped the foil and carefully unrolled the rubber over his dick with the same twisting thrusts. This, she knew how to do. Someday she’d have to thank Alya for that one sleepover they’d spent putting condoms on bananas for practice and arguing about how it could possibly be sexy.

Finally, she put her mouth over his head. She wasn’t entirely sure how to mimic the twists of her hand that had seemed to work so well, but she hollowed her cheeks and pressed her tongue to the underside of his dick and lowered herself down. She felt his hips thrust up against her and one hand went to the back of her neck—nothing tight, just steady and firm.

With one hand, she held his hip, more for a guideline of where she was in space since she couldn’t see, and with her other, she sought his other hand. She found it clenched tight against the railing and she slid her fingers over his knuckles. He relaxed beneath her touch, but as she pulled her head back and let her tongue linger over his tip, his grip tightened once more and he barely restrained a moan.

She listened for every hitch in his breath and doubled down when she caught it. He groaned when the head of his cock hit the roof of her mouth so she did it again and again. He choked on his own breath when she pressed a kiss to the base of cock and sucked gently, so she peppered those kisses along his length. He whined, “Ladybug,” as she bobbed on his cock from tip to hilt, so she did it again and again and again until his every breath was, “Ladybug, Ladybug Ladybug,” inhale and exhale, constant, like a fervent prayer.

And then she felt the tendons in his wrist flex and his hand tightened in her hair. Everything about him went rigid and he came. She stayed still, mouth firmly around his cock, until, slowly, his hands unwound from her hair and his grip on the railing relaxed. He sagged backwards and she pressed a kiss to his pelvis once more and nuzzled his thigh the way he had nuzzled hers.

His hand tightened again in her hair, pulling her up and she came obediently, rising to meet his lips with hers and though she could not see him, he guided her all the same. They kissed long and slow, and she and he both, hands working as one, pulled the condom away.

“I wonder,” she murmured between gentle kisses, “if I use my miraculous power, would the Lucky Charm reset you to full hardness?”

He laughed into her mouth and that was how she knew that this had all gone well. There was nothing changed between them, just something new and warm and delicate.

They fell into the chair together, legs hooking around each other. Her boot nudged against a laced sneaker and the cuff of his jeans. His bare hands trailed against the scale-like pattern of her suit. Her lips and his lips brushed against each other as they settled and stilled.

“Are you going to change back?” she murmured.

“Can I enjoy this a moment more?”

She stuck out her lower lip in what she hoped was an exaggerated pout. “I thought you were nervous.”

“Only because this was all I’ve ever dreamed about. Maybe I’m not ready to let it go yet.”

She thought about teasing him, asking if he kept a body pillow of Ladybug that he clung to at night, but that would be unfair of her to mock him after he’d been so vulnerable with her.

He nosed gently at her neck and breathed in, long and slow, and out in the same pace, almost like he was settling in for a nap. She trailed her fingers lazily through his hair, like she might if he were a cat curling up on her chest. She was surprised to find his hair as silky as it was when he was transformed. She had always assumed it was the magic that made his hair so perfect.

He hummed into her neck and it startled her. Not because it was unpleasant, but because she was so used to hearing him purr. Instead, out of his suit, he hummed through his contentment. It was a gentle tune, familiar…

Her hand stilled in his hair. She knew the song he was humming. She knew it because she had heard it one other place and only one other place.

“I didn’t compose it for keyboard,” Adrien had said, “so it might not—”

“I want to hear it,” Marinette had interrupted.

They’d been on the deck of Liberty after a Kitty Section rehearsal. Some of the band had drifted below deck. Others had gone ashore for snacks. Marinette and Adrien had been left alone.

And he’d played it for her. Only for her.

She pulled away from him and fumbled for the table. She practically fell into it; its rounded edge dug into her gut. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly, as if she could undo the memory that had struck her.

“Ladybug?” he asked.

And oh, no, she could already hear him in his voice.

“Ladybug, what’s wro—”

“Stop talking! Stop—stop—stop thinking, oh, please, please stop thinking—”

“Thinking? Ladybug, what are you talking about?”

“You can’t—you can’t know that song!” And as the words left her mouth she regretted them. Because if he knew the song, then she knew who he was. And if he knew that she knew the song, then he would know who she was.

She groaned, and it was the most unhappy groan of the evening. She pressed her head into the table. “I—I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t answer. Her heart pounded and her ears rang and she heard no sound from him. She wondered if he had leapt off of the balcony without a word. She wouldn’t blame him. She wished she could run from what she had just heard and said—but it was too late to undo what she’d done.

She turned and opened her eyes.

And there he was: Adrien Agreste, sitting on her chair, on her balcony, head buried between his knees and hands laced around the back of his neck, struggling to breathe.

She knelt beside him and tried again to apologize. “I’m sorry—”

“This is my fault,” he gasped. “I’m sorry—I never should have said—It was my idea—”

“No, no,” she insisted. “Adrien, I did this. I didn’t have to say anything. Or I could have said no. It’s my responsibility—”

“No, don’t, don’t do that.” He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. “Please, Ladybug—” He squeezed his eyes closed and wrinkled his nose. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she tried, but he hardly seemed to hear her.

He seemed to have gone somewhere even Ladybug couldn’t reach.

She took in a deep breath of her own and did her best to banish every nerve that seemed to light up her veins with fear. Her fear still persisted, and though she knew she would only be less brave without her mask, she also knew that there was no point in pretending they had anymore secrets to keep.

“Tikki, spots off,” she said again.

And now her bare hands were on his denim-clad knees. She trailed her fingers along his arm to his wrist and carefully pried his fingers loose from his neck.

“Adrien,” she whispered. “Will you look at me?”

He hesitated, and she waited. She waited until the tension in his shoulders slumped and his bare hands turned hers over, examining every vein and freckle and tendon like he was seeing it for the first time.

It was the first time, but it also wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” he said again, voice thin.

She bit down on her lip, knowing there was nothing she could say to undo what had been done. It was his fault only as much as it was her fault. She could have kept her guard up. She could have insisted he change back. She never had to return the favor that he had granted her. There were a thousand things they could have changed to have avoided ending up here, and she wasn’t sure that she’d trade any of them.

“I’m not sorry,” she whispered back, and she squeezed his hands.

He let out a long, slow breath, as if it was losing her favor that had been his true fear, rather than this revelation of truth. “Since the beginning?” he asked.

“Imagine how I feel,” she said, “all those months pining after you when you were literally at my side, begging me to date you.”

Finally, he looked up at her, and she thought she saw a smile on the corner of his mouth. “I guess we were both a bit ridiculous.”

And she felt the double-meaning. They had both been ridiculous, pining after each other without even noticing. They had also been ridiculous tonight, thinking they would each be able to pull off this intimacy without revealing their most intimate secret. The way this had ended was inevitable.

She pushed herself up towards him and he met her in another kiss, which was, for each of them, as much an apology as it was forgiveness.

When they pulled apart, she said, “You know, I do have a bed downstairs. Like, a real proper mattress and everything.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I imagine Tikki and Plagg could find better things to do?”

They kissed again, briefly, because there was too much else to be eager for. Then they both hefted the table from the trapdoor, combining their merely human strength, and slipped down to Marinette’s bedroom, where they would be able to, for the first time, do everything the way that they wanted. No masks. No blindfolds. Nothing to keep them apart—not once their shoes, jeans, and t-shirts had been discarded.

[roseinaugust]

Chapters: 1/1 Summary: Based on the song 'About You' by The 1975. Memory Loss. Told in alternating time lines, one leading up to and one dealing with the aftermath of Marinette relinquishing the Miracle Box and the guardianship. Marinette struggles with her life after losing her memory, though there is a persistent voice that calls to her that always seems just out of reach in her memory.

Here is the first scene! Read the rest on AO3!

“Marinette?” 

“Yes?” 

“I love you.” 

“I know.” 

A pigeon flew above their heads, silhouetted by the sun before diving back to the city street. It flew away before the feathery beast could call to Adrien’s allergies. Marinette closed her eyes; her brief glance at the beaming sun sent almost as many spots to cloud her vision as there were on her costume. She’d always loved the sun. How her parents would warn her not to look directly at it, lest its Medusian stare scorch her eyes, yet she would always try to see it for how beautiful it was. And every time, she blinked back tears from the sun’s burning sting of rejection. Marinette opened her eyes just wide enough to squint through the cracks at Adrien next to her. His eyes were shut, long, delicate lashes resting atop his domino mask. The wind picked up stray threads of his hair, so bright in the midday sun that it looked like it had been spun from gold. 

Yes. Marinette had always loved the sun, but when the sun stood unmovable, unable to change how it hurt her, she found a new sun to love instead. 

“Marinette?” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you love me too?” 

“Yes. I do.” 

He opened his eyes, his pupil stretched in a catlike point. Her heart slammed against her chest. Even now, even after everything, his stare was just as arresting as the sun. Marinette was a statue, motionless under his gaze. Her heart surrendered, white flag whipping in the wind because she knew she never stood a chance. 

“Marinette?” 

“Yes, Adrien?” 

“Why aren’t we together?” 

She sat up, clutching her knees to her chest and looking out over her side of the rooftop. Building after building sprawled throughout the city, stretching as far as she could see. All of Paris was their’s to protect. They were responsible for it all. One wrong move and they would all be left to Hawkmoth’s mercy. 

“You know why,” she sighed. 

Adrien sat up, turning to look at her, but for once she couldn’t look at him. “No, I don’t know.” He insisted. “I don’t understand. We love each other. What could stop us?” 

“Hawkmoth.” She turned to him, as she always had, and ached at the sight of his disheartened face. “You know that we can’t be together until he is defeated.”

“But we know each others identities now. We both love each other. All the things we were worried about, everything that stood in our way is gone.” 

“Adrien,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Those were part of it, yes, but as long as Hawkmoth still stands, we can’t be together.” She gave him a sad, wobbly smile and tucked a lock of his messy hair behind his ear. Her gloved hand lingered by his face. How she wished she could touch him, skin to skin, like this. So intimate and delicate. She knew he would let her, sans masks and Miraculous, but Marinette knew that she couldn’t. Not until Hawkmoth was defeated. “Not like how we want.” 

He closed his hand around hers, dragging it down his jaw to his mouth. He pressed his lips against her knuckles. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet hers, intensity burning with every second he held her stare. “I understand.” His voice was husky and thick, like he was swallowing a spoon of honey to help an uncomfortable pill go down. “Marinette?”

“Yes?”

“I would wait for you until the world ends.” 

It was overwhelming, the love he had for her. Even before they revealed their identities—before they truly knew each other, backwards, forwards, and every which way—he had always been so sure that he loved her. Marinette was no stranger to magic, the earrings and costume she wore were proof enough of its existence in the world, but she was positive that there was nothing in the world more magical than the love—the overwhelming, heart-surrendering love—Adrien had for her. 

The sun had already begun its descent towards the horizon. Every inch and mile that the sun dropped was a moment closer to their final battle against Hawkmoth. A moment closer to when they could finally be together, but Marinette couldn’t help but buzz with anxiety at the forthcoming ending. She laid down on the roof, pulling Adrien down with her, until they were back in their original position: her facing one direction; him facing the other; their eyes perfectly aligned. 

“Until that happens, can we just lay here and look in each other’s eyes?” 

[buggachat]

ART BY @mari-cherri (@mari-monsta) THANK U SO MUCH MARI MUAH

I posted a new fic!

I (Wish I) Knew You

49k words, 10 chapters, COMPLETE

LadyNoir, aged-up, hurt/comfort, (please check the tags for possible triggers, etc)

University has been hard on Marinette. Making new friends and maintaining her grades is a lot easier said than done when she has to disappear at odd times to fight akumas. She's struggling, and with Alya away with family and Adrien painfully out of reach, she's never felt lonelier. If only she could talk to someone who really understood her struggles... but it's not like Chat Noir would know anything about loneliness. Right?

[bbutterflies]

platonic ladynoir is so incredibly special and important to me. no one understands me like you do. you’re my best friend. I trust you more than anyone else and I don’t even know your name. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you. no one matters to me more than you do. we don’t need romantic strings attached to be the most important people to each other.

[masilvi]

Commission for @frostedpuffs based on a scene in Perfectly Platonic (Unless...)

"When their lips pressed together, it wasn’t the same hesitant kiss they’d shared before, which had been slow and tinged with curiosity. It was charged with something more desperate—something Chat Noir couldn’t explain but didn’t care enough to. All that mattered at the moment was the feeling of her lips on his, soft as they glided along his in a fervent motion, and the warmth of her wine-scented breath as it blew into his mouth, like kindling to the ever-growing fire that blazed in his heart. Even as their noses bumped and teeth lightly clashed, he wanted more."

(Chapter 20)

Plus some sketches I did before settling for this one! I like how they look like sequence when they're together like this 👀👇

[coffeebanana]

Okay like. How did nobody every tell me the there is a BARRIER around the Eiffel Tower you can’t just walk up to it/under…. LIKE. According to my googling there’s been. A fence since 2016 and a bullet proof glass perimeter since 2018 (I believe? Too lazy to google again). So TO BE FAIR it wasn’t there i guess when ml first started?? And miraculously ladybug doesn’t depict the most accurate Paris to begin with. I get that.

But like. WHERE ARE THE CRACK FICS? The “we agreed to meet at the Eiffel Tower after defeating hawkmoth but shit now our kwamis have gone dormant so we need to get in the old fashioned way. CRAP the ticket time I need was sold out on the website. Fuck they won’t me in because i forgot about the blow torch in my emergency grab bag and I couldn’t make it past security. Oh no they’re not even selling summit tickets today WHAT DO I DO? Or, hmmmm we were supposed to meet…at the base. But shit we never clarified what side. Oh no how do I find my partner there are SO MANY TOURISTS”

[anna-scribbles]

particularly inspired moment from ch 2 of mine and @sha-nwa‘s new enemies au fic call it even 🫶

[sizzleissues]

Many eons ago (two months), I was given a sneakpeak of the recently released ml fic two virgin losers by @literaphobe. GO READ IT. It changed me so I made this quick ol’ thing. Didn’t misquote a line and then have to ponder for several minutes. I read

TROLLS QUEUE OVER, rejoice

[literaphobe]

tvl chat noir refusing to sleep with tvl ladybug

[aidanchaser]

New chapter of Boulangérella coming Saturday night!

[rosekasa]

what happens in london

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

ladynoir.

10 chapters; T; no archive warnings apply.

when a slapdash victory celebration between ladybug and chat noir ends up in a 3am makeout session, they both decide it'd be better to clear their heads a little before revealing their identities. hennessy does always make her act stupid.

though it's a little hard to clear your head when you're stuck in an airbnb in london with the rest of your superhero team.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

aged up characters; making out; post hawk-moth defeat; miraculous team; secret relationship; identity reveal; alcohol; twenty year olds being twenty year olds

[mozzygan]

Chapters: 1/10

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tags: Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Time Travel, Identity Reveal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, lovesqaure

Summary—

Little lady with a rose All alone without her kitty Because “us against the world” Became a solo job lately

When an akuma battle goes wrong, Marinette is left to fight Monarch alone, and Adrien is stranded in time.

Written for @rosekasa​ for being a beautiful human. Love you Alizeh!!

[mostmagical]

for @zodoods, I hope this lives up to expectations 🙏

Words: 4k Summary:

Marinette knew she tended to get tunnel vision when she was focused, but luckily her boyfriend Chat Noir was always there to watch her back as they fought Monarch. With their enemy having disappeared, however, they decided together that it was finally time to reveal themselves. In public. Face to face. It's a little silly to have to introduce yourself to your own boyfriend, but after all, it wasn’t Marinette’s fault that she never knew her boyfriend’s name. (Adrien has never been to school, and Marinette doesn't know him.)

Marinette hadn’t known her smile could be so wide. Staring at herself in the reflection, she couldn’t be bothered to worry about the awful dark circles under her eyes, or the frizzy mess of her hair. Everything could be covered or smoothed over, after all. None of that really mattered. Not when her whole world was about to change.

Today was the day.

“Today,” she breathed the word to herself. “Tikki, can you believe it’s today?” she asked, turning around to look towards her kwami.

Tikki giggled from where she sat atop the dresser. “You and Chat Noir have only been planning it forever,” she replied.

The smile was beginning to make Marinette’s cheeks ache. “We have.”

For months following the disappearance of Monarch, Ladybug and Chat Noir had been planning and mentally preparing to finally reveal their identities to one another, eventually coming to the conclusion that they were both ready for it just a week prior. She could still see Chat’s goofy smile in her mind’s eye, clear as day.

“So, we’re really doing this?” he had asked as they sat atop a rooftop together. “For real?”

“For real,” she had replied, excitedly nodding her head. Taking his hand in hers, she had pressed three rapid kisses to the back of it, trying to impress all of her enthusiasm and all of her love into his skin through the suit. “I can’t wait to meet you, mon Chaton,” she had promised him.

His face was rosy, with that big, beautiful smile of his stretching out his cheeks. “Neither can I, my Lady.”

Marinette let out a low squeal at the not-so-distant memory, pressing her hands against her hot cheeks.

She was going to meet her boyfriend. For the first time.

Well, not exactly the first time, but first enough.

They had plans to meet at a little café just a few blocks from the Grand Palais. He had surprisingly been a bit apprehensive at first, but she assured him everything would be okay. Marinette promised to wear the rose he had given her in her hair, and she was going to look for the boy wearing the scarf she had made him on his pretend birthday (and then he could tell her his real birthday!).

She couldn’t wait.

This day was a long time coming, and Marinette had plenty of fantasies to prove it. She wanted to hold her boyfriend’s hand in public, kiss him and go to the movies, all without a crowd of people taking photos of them. She wanted to goof off and be silly with him, all without worrying about being a hero, or acting like a good role model. She wanted to take him over to her house, and have him meet her parents, and stay for dinner without the threat of a supervillain interrupting the desert.

And after today, all that could finally be reality.

She got to work applying her makeup and wrangling her hair, not wanting to waste another second. Although she was notoriously late for most events, this was something she hoped to actually arrive early to. The ruby red dress she had laid out the previous night while she should have been sleeping was the last to slip over her head, perfectly matching the scarlet of Chat’s rose tucked behind her ear. The knee-length skirt fluttered to and fro as she took one last scrutinizing look in the mirror. Everything had to be perfect for her not-so-first impression.

Once she was finally satisfied, Marinette tossed her purse over her head. As soon as Tikki was settled and comfortable, she at last headed out.

There was a skip in her step the entirety of the walk, completely out of her control.

Although excitement was certainly at the forefront of her emotions, she would be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that little seed of nervousness. What if he didn’t like her? (He would.) What if he wasn’t as kind as she thought, and his personality was nothing more than a front? (Impossible.) What if his nerves got the best of him, and he didn’t show?

With her heart thundering in her chest, she turned the last corner to bring the café into view.

Her eyes zoned in on a mop of blond hair instantly. It was neat and combed back— completely at odds with the wild wind-blown look she was used to seeing on her boyfriend, but something in the way her stomach twisted and swooped inside of her told her that she may have spotted him. Taking slow steps closer, she traced the curve of his posture with her eyes as he sat hunched over the tiny café table, gasping slightly as she located the familiar shade of blue peeking from his collar.

It had to be him. It had to.

A chorus of giggles broke her concentration, drawing her eyes to a gaggle of girls a couple tables over. They were whispering excitedly and pointing in the direction of the same mop of blond hair, all with cell phones raised. A sudden wave of heat ran up Marinette’s spine as she realized they were ogling him.

She wasn’t surprised that girls were looking at him. Chat Noir was the cutest, most handsomest boy in the world, so of course they would. But that was her cutest and most handsomest boy in the world.

Her slow steps quickly evolved into a fast walk until she was right beside him, at which she practically threw herself onto the table, bodyblocking the girls’ view. The boy visibly jumped at her entrance. She glanced at his face for his reaction, but his eyes were covered by large sunglasses, effectively hiding any expression of recognition. Face feeling suddenly warm, Marinette stood back up straight and cleared her throat, casually drumming her fingers against the laminate surface.

“H-hi. I’m looking for my kitten,” she said, uttering the code phrase they had planned to use to confirm each other’s identities.

The boy smiled, instantly easing her worries. “I saw a little bug on the flyer.”

A grin spread across her cheeks before she could stop it, giddiness overflowing to the tips of her fingers. “I found you,” she murmured, just quiet enough to be just for him.

He stood from his seat, still smiling, and Marinette thought he was going in for a hug until he stepped around her. She was only confused for a second before he pulled out the chair on the other side of the table.

“Oh.” So the gentlemanly thing wasn’t an act after all. Accepting the gesture, Marinette turned to sit, feeling him push the chair in behind her as she did so. “Thank you.”

He simply hummed, before returning to his own seat across from her.

“So, um–” Not really sure where to start, (how does one introduce themselves to the boy they’ve been dating for two years?) Marinette figured the basics should go first. She almost wanted to laugh as she realized she was essentially on a blind date with her long-term boyfriend. “I’m Marinette,” she said, tugging at her bangs before pushing them behind her ear.

“Marinette,” he breathed. Breathed, as in he actually sighed her name when he said it. Marinette thought she might melt. “That’s a beautiful name.”

She wondered how dopey her smile must look to him. “Thank you,” she replied. “And you are?”

Thin blond eyebrows raised over the rims of the glasses, before dropping back down out of sight almost as quickly as they appeared. He laughed. “Okay,” he said between chuckles. “I’m Adrien.”

Marinette wasn’t quite sure what was so funny, but his laughter was just as contagious as always. With a giggle, she stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Adrien.”

His returning smile was soft. “Nice to meet you, Marinette.” He took her hand, and turned it to rest atop his on the table, running smooth circles over the back of her palm with his thumb. The feeling of his warm skin on hers was foreign and exciting, setting off yet another flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

“You still wear your pigtails,” he stated.

Naturally, her free hand trailed to her hair. She smiled as her fingers brushed the velvet petals of the rose. “They’re kind of my armor,” she replied with a shrug. “All the better for you to recognize me.”

The corner of his lip twitched, but the soft smile remained unchanged. Part of her wondered if he was still nervous about meeting. Hoping to ease his worries, she grinned.

“And I’m glad to see you don’t wear whiskers,” she joked.

He laughed again, and that seemed to be enough to lower the tension in his shoulders, to Marinette’s relief. “You’re right, I don’t,” he said. “I have a clean public image to maintain, you know.”

Marinette furrowed her brows, trying and most likely failing to hide the confusion on her face. It was surprising; Chat Noir was definitely the type of person who would grow “whiskers” just to commit to the bit. To each their own she supposed. Mustaches did seem to be more supervillain-y than superhero-y, after all.

“I do have to ask, though, what’s with the glasses?” she asked, moving the conversation along. “They’re so big, they’re covering half your face. Any plans to take those off?”

“Well, I–” Adrien’s head turned minutely towards the girls at the table behind her, barely perceptible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. “I don’t know.” His hand pulled at the scarf where it crossed over his black t-shirt.

“Please,” she insisted, putting on her best baby-doll eyes. “How unfair you get to see all of my face and I can’t see all of yours.” She held his hand tighter, imploring but hopefully he knew it was still light-hearted.

“Marinette, it’s just–”

She pulled out her secret weapon: the pout. His mouth instantly stopped moving.

“I’ve never really seen your eyes before,” she added. At his answering sigh, she felt a bout of pride swell in her chest. Victory.

Hesitantly, he removed the sunglasses and folded them on the table, all the while looking shyly up at her through golden lashes.

Marinette’s pulse quickened as she finally— really— met his eyes. Such strange feelings of déjà vu ran through her when she caught sight of how green they were. It was the first time she had seen his whole face, and yet it already felt so nostalgic and familiar. It was almost as if she had seen him before, and she supposed she had, in her dreams at the least.

“Gorgeous,” she sighed, unable to stop her tongue from embarrassing the rest of her.

All the regret she might have held drained out of her, however, when she saw how pink his cheeks went in response. His dropped jaw slowly curved into a small smile, and those pretty green eyes closed in half moons as he replied, “Thanks for the compliment.”

Was this really the same boy?

Marinette snorted. “What? No cheesy remark about how you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist you?”

“I’m just far too stunned by the beauty in front of me to think straight,” he said, mouth pulled sideways. “I daresay you could outshine me anyday.”

There he is.

She rolled her eyes in response, but she couldn’t deny the coils of warmth that spread across her skin. With a fond shake of her head, she brought one elbow to the top of the table to cradle her chin in her hand.

“You know, you’re taking this really well,” Adrien said, the smirk fading back to a humble smile. It was odd seeing him so reserved. “Better than I thought you would.”

“Taking what well?” she asked. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she recalled his apprehension from the night before. She attempted to keep things light, sliding into a teasing tone as she conspiratorially whispered, “Did you think I wouldn’t like you without the cat ears, mon Chaton?”

“Well, no, that’s not exactly—”

She cut him off, making sure to speak with all the sincerity she could muster, “Because there is no universe where I wouldn’t like you.” With a coy wink, she added, “Believe me. I checked.” She grinned with pride as her fingers squeezed his on the table, feeling as though she had one-upped him in cheesiness.

Again, his mouth hung open slightly as he processed her words, but soon morphed back into the soft smile. His head tilted to the side. “You always know what to say to make me happy, my–” The corners of his lips twitched, his intended endearment clear to both of them— “my Marinette,” he said instead, pulling their joined hands up to brush his lips against the back of her palm.

Dimly, Marinette registered the sound of a squeal from somewhere behind her.

“But, um, no.” His countenance took on a much more nervous expression, his free hand drifting back to play with the nape of his neck. “I meant more–” He paused, waving his hand awkwardly towards himself.

“What?”

His brows furrowed, mouth open and clearly poised to explain himself, but he was interrupted by a waiter arriving to take their orders, and the moment was surreptitiously forgotten.

As the date went on, conversation flowed freely between them. Marinette learned so many of his favorite things, what he was studying in school, that he was an only child just like her, and of course, his birthday, time and year. So many things that she would normally have naturally learned over time, which was something that she took for granted in her other relationships with family and friends. It was odd, but wonderful that this absurd blind date was just another unique experience that they could share together.

She would have been more than happy to talk to him forever if she could, but a trill from Adrien’s phone stopped their conversation short.

His eyebrows turned down as he read the screen. “How did it get so late?” he pouted, just as cute as before when he wore cat ears on his head. “I’m sorry, Marinette, but I have to go.”

Her smile was sympathetic, barely holding herself back from mirroring his pout. “That’s okay,” she replied. “We’ll just have to have our next date sooner.”

The answering smile on his face made it all worth it.

Adrien’s fingers flew across his keyboard for a second, before another trill responded. “My bodyguard says he can take you home, though!” he announced happily. “So we can spend a little more time together.”

Marinette couldn’t stop the confused noise from escaping her mouth. “Your…bodyguard?” she repeated slowly.

“Yeah!” He looked up from his phone, lips softly quirked upwards. “And don’t worry; he may look mean but he’s the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

That certainly wasn’t something Marinette was worried about, but now she felt like she needed to be.

She tried to cross the appropriate wires in her head. Okay, so Chat Noir, famed superhero of Paris and wielder of the power of destruction, had a bodyguard in his everyday life. And that bodyguard apparently drove him places?

Perhaps she needed to collect more evidence.

Too busy thinking to come up with anything to say, Marinette mutely nodded her agreement.

Having already paid the bill— well, Adrien paid, despite her protests—, the two stood from their seats and headed down the sidewalk. Marinette followed Adrien closely, too busy sweeping her eyes across the busy street to spot this ‘mean-looking’ man to notice Adrien’s knuckles bumping into hers. She finally looked up at him when he laced their fingers together and squeezed. His green eyes almost seemed to shimmer as they looked into hers, and Marinette could feel all that wound-up tension melt away in response.

The spell between them was broken by a sudden honk.

Adrien was the first to break eye contact, turning back towards the street. “Oh! There he is.”

Marinette followed his gaze. Her eyes widened as they landed on the sleek sedan that had pulled up to the curb in front of them. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew enough to identify the logo of a luxury brand. The car was well-washed and shiny, unlike most of the vehicles that parked along the dirty city streets.

A burly man emerged from the driver’s side door, and walked around the car. To Adrien’s credit, he did seem a bit scary, based on sheer size alone, but Marinette supposed her Papa was probably about the same size. She figured if the man smiled a bit more, he would come off much friendlier. He greeted the two of them with little more than a low grunt and a nod, before briskly opening the rear passenger side door.

Marinette froze in place as she waited for one of the others to move. She couldn’t for the life of her understand what was going on. Was Adrien going to drive and this man was graciously letting her have the front seat?

“Marinette?” Adrien cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go?”

She blinked a few times, looking back and forth between the open door and her boyfriend’s face. “Um, yes,” she replied nervously. “I’m ready.”

He bowed his head, gesturing with his free hand towards the open door. “Then, after you, my lady.”

The familiar name quelled the voices in her head long enough for her to step forward. “Thank you, my prince,” she teased in response.

Though she did step in first, she held fast to his hand, pulling him along with her. The inside of the sedan was just as clean as the outside. Small tablets nestled into the back of both front headrests, and a far fancier screen than Marinette had in any of her devices at home was centerstage on the dashboard. She could feel her eyes widening as she took it all in.

Chat Noir was rich.

Chloé Bourgeois rich, maybe.

That was… unexpected. Admittedly, she never imagined Chat to have a high-class upbringing (if she could even call Chloé’s that). She had always envisioned him as a rough and tumble sort of kid. He would take soda over wine any day. Canned tuna over caviar. He had never turned up his nose to fast food, or cheap nosebleed seats at a concert, or acted like he was any better than anyone else.

No, Chat– Adrien— was amiable, gracious, and an appreciator of the little things–

“Marinette?”

She whipped her head around to meet her boyfriend’s gaze, having been yanked from her thoughts. “Yes?”

Adrien seemed to be holding back a laugh, clearly having recognized her thinking face. “Your address?”

“Oh!” She leaned forward in her seat, directing her attention to the driver. “12 Rue Gotlib, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

Adrien’s face lit up in the rearview mirror. “That’s just around the corner from us!”

“Really?” She was reminded of that flash of déjà vu she had felt upon seeing his face for the first time. Maybe they had met before. Most people who lived in the 21st arrondissement got their baked goods from her parents’ bakery, and Marinette often worked the front counter. They must have had at least one encounter before as their civilian selves.

It was almost a shame.

She would have loved to know that her favorite person was just around the corner.

He tightened his grip on her hand as she turned back to face him. “Almost too good to be true,” he said, echoing her thoughts.

All lamentations of lost time were forgotten at that, and she chose instead to be happy in the moment they had now. She smiled, squeezing his hand back.

They were content to spend the short ride in comfortable silence after having spent the majority of their time together with endless conversations. Adrien’s bodyguard didn’t ask any questions after Marinette gave her address, so she saw no reason to try chatting with him when she could cuddle into Adrien’s arm instead. The world was pink and fuzzy, and the only leather pressed against her skin was that of the car seats. Feeling the rise and fall of Chat Noir’s breaths through warm cotton was a wholly different, welcome experience.

The ride was too short, however, and before she knew it, they had pulled up in front of her family’s bakery.

Adrien’s short intake of breath pulled her eyes upwards, and she noticed him staring at the sign with eyes full of wonder. “Whoa, you live so close to the boulangerie,” he noted.

Marinette grinned. “Well, yeah, I live above it,” she said, delighted when his head whipped back to face her. “My parents own it.”

His eyes looked about ready to bulge out of their sockets. “You do?”

She pointed to the sign. “And I designed the logo. Tom and Sabine Boulangerie,” —she turned the finger towards herself— “Tom and Sabine daughter.”

Adrien’s face was painted with the most excitement she had seen from him all day. “That’s so cool! They have the best macarons— I’ve had some at events when we get catering— and I’ve asked Nathalie a few times, but, well–” His face was a bit pink as he paused. “You’re amazing, Marinette.”

“I’ll have to bring you some macarons next time I see you,” she giggled.

His eyebrows danced over his eyes. “Now I know why you’re so sweet.”

“Oh, hush.” She lightly shoved his shoulder. “Takes one to know one.”

Following some pointed clearings of the throat from the driver’s seat, they eventually got out of the car and Adrien walked her to her door. She left him with a quick kiss and a promise to text him later.

The remainder of the day went by in a blissful blur. Dinner, homework, and television with her parents faded into the background as she slipped lovingly into her daydreams. Adrien was too busy to talk, but he had sent her a few hearts and memes throughout the evening, and she looked over all of them with her chest fit to burst. Before she knew it, it was time for bed and they were texting each other good night.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Marinette realized the true shift the world had undergone.

The incessant buzzing of her phone was an unwanted wakeup call. Marinette blindly slapped her hand against the mattress until her fingers met the smooth plastic of her phone case. She slowly cracked her eyes open as the screen lit up again with notifications.

New Message - 🦊Alya🔥(32), Missed Call - 🦊Alya🔥 (2), New Message - Adrien ♥️🐈

Wondering what was so desperate for Alya to be blowing up her phone so early, Marinette quickly responded to Adrien’s “Good morning <3” in kind before opening the floodgates. She was immediately treated to a number of news articles, all caps messages, and photos. Photos of her and Adrien.

Her fingers flew through the slideshow of photographs: Adrien waiting alone with those ridiculous sunglasses, herself haphazardly draped over the table, Adrien kissing her hand, the both of them stepping into his car. She paused on one of the last photos. It was of the two of them, hand-in-hand as they waited for their ride. Adrien’s soft eyes that had mesmerized her up close were just as soft from a careful distance.

She blinked rapidly as she processed it all.

How did Alya get these?

Scrolling back up in her conversation history with Alya, she looked at the articles again, scanning over the headlines: “Adrien Agreste - Dating?” “Adrien Hits the Town with Mystery Girl!” “Who Caught the Eye of Adrien Agreste?” “Agreste Son is Growing Up!”

…Agreste?

The conversation shot down to the bottom as another text from Alya came in: CANT BELIEVE YOU DIDNT TELL ME????

Faster than she could process, Marinette swiped away from her messages to plug “Adrien Agreste'' into her search engine. A shocking thousands of images popped up, all of her boyfriend in various poses and campaigns— including one with the bowler hat she had designed for a competition run by Gabriel Agreste.

A banner notification popped up at the top of her screen, Marinette’s finger tapping it automatically.

Adrien ♥️🐈: I have a photoshoot until around noon, but do you want to get ice cream after?

Marinette dropped the phone as everything suddenly became clear.

Perhaps maybe their civilian relationship wasn’t about to be quite as low-key as she thought.

[randomness-is-my-order]

a post-identity reveal au where parisians are having an ABSOLUTE field day over ladynoir and adrinette dating openly, pitting both pairs against each other to win the title of the ultimate it-couple. like there are serious SERIOUS shipwars reaching stan twt, people fighting over which one’s superior: the hot superhero couple laydnoir or the wholesome talentfest couple adrinette. on the one hand, people have been hardcore shipping ladybug/chatnoir since their debut days, vying for the smallest morsels of pda thru the course of their akuma fighting ventures, click baiting news titles incessantly, manifesting this relationship into reality while on the other hand, every teen girl is shooketh to the core that the smokeshow model adrien agreste is dating this hella cute up-and-coming fashion designer out of NOWHERE one day, like after years of being somewhat restrained and uber careful about contact with girls on camera, adrien is fucking DRAPED over marinette in front of any and all paparazzi coverage, both of them seeming utterly and hopelessly in love. there are instagram & tiktok edits, there are twitter thread analyses, there is a whole halloween costuming couple trend – everyone and their mother is chiming into the debate and adrien & marinette are just having the time of their lives, laughing their asses off as paris and the world descends into chaos over their very much singular relationship.

[blinday]

Ok guys but imagine if Marinette just went bonkers and told Adrien she, like, wouldn't mind if he flirted with LB. Or even kissed her. And he's like fr?? And she says yeah bc she aint stopping him from kissing LB, SHE would like that too. And also maybe Chat Noir. And he goes all red and says he's okay if she kisses Chat too bc he knows they used to have a thing. They both just have a fantasy of being each other's hero and while Marinette daydreams and plans to make it reality eventually Adrien viciously writes fanfic of his identity reveal with Marinette with various outcomes depending on how his self esteem is that day.

Adrien actually makes out with LB first bc Ladybug could NOT contain herself and flirted with him openly; and Marinette makes out with Chat. They have this idea that they're in a sort of polycule so Adrien insists she must have some one on one time with Ladybug too so now Marinette needs to figure a way to date herself, and also she puts him in the same predicament bc even tho he doesn't know she's the same person as LB, she knows he'd get allong just fine with Chat, they're her favorite boys after all!

And Boom, we have the lovesquare back and it's even funnier now bc they're all dating.