#MARINETTE GETTING OVER HER NEED TO PLAN EVERYTHING AND WANTING TO IMPROVISE A CONVERSATION

[hufflepotato-18]

I- I- *muffled scream*

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

April Weather (4)

@adrinetteapril 2018, Day 4: Dinner with parent(s)

Days: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | art | 6 | 7 | 8 | art 1 | art 2 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | art | 19 | art | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | art | 29 | 30 |

AO3 / fanfiction.net

Marinette couldn't decide if she was in heaven or in hell. For the past few days she had to pinch herself from time to time to check if this wasn't a dream. She had yet to determine if she believed her self-inflicted reality check. She briefly considered asking Adrien to pinch her but on the other hand she didn't want to push her luck.

How she could keep her wits in her fake boyfriend’s company was still a mystery. On the inside she had melted into a pile of goo long ago. On the outside she played her part the best she could, Adrien’s smile and a squeeze of his fingers the highest reward she could hope for.

After agreeing to the idea of fake dating Marinette got a scolding of a lifetime from Tikki. Objectively she knew the kwami was right, warning her about the consequences of this decision. She was lying to her friends, classmates and colleagues. She was lying to total strangers. Only Alya and her parents knew the truth and unsurprisingly they weren’t pleased with it, even if they seemingly accepted her reasoning that she was doing this for Adrien.

But as Tikki pointed out, Marinette was also lying to herself. She was lying when she claimed the whole affair didn’t affect her, that she didn’t took pleasure out of Adrien’s company. It was so nice to be near him so often, to talk to him, to hold hands and conversations. They never did anything more than hugging and cheek kisses, but her heart fluttered at those activities alone. She was sure she wouldn’t have survived anything more, at least not now. Thankfully those were more than enough to sustain the illusion of their relationship.

‘You’re setting yourself up for a very nasty heartbreak, Marinette,’ Tikki warned her at every opportunity and the jab usually took at least half of the satisfaction Marinette felt when in Adrien’s presence.

This was too good to be true and to last, so it didn’t take long for her disastrous streak to rear its ugly head. As she left the school in Adrien’s company that day instead of being walked home like she expected, she was kindly (not really) asked (try requested) to accompany him to the mansion as Monsieur Agreste wished to meet her. She could tell Adrien was as surprised as her and he didn’t exactly look happy about the whole ordeal.

Mlle Sancoeur and Adrien’s bodyguard, whatever his real name was, made it impossible for them to talk freely, but Marinette didn’t like the slightly panicked expression on her friend’s face.

She reached for her phone.

[Me 16:32 Is everything okay?]

Adrien’s cell pinged in his pocket. He frowned at the notification flashing her a questioning look, but she just rolled her eyes to his screen and slightly ducked her head. In a moment her own phone vibrated in her hand.

[♥☼BFBF☼♥ 16:33 My father doesn’t know]

Marinette went pale. She felt his hand squeezing her forearm gently. Her phone vibrated again.

[♥☼BFBF☼♥ 16:33 I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the right moment]

She nodded. From what she already knew this probably meant “I haven’t seen him in the last few days”.

[Me 16:34 What do we do now then?]

[♥☼BFBF☼♥ 16:35 Improvise. Just follow my lead >;)]

Marinette glared at him and the smile he sent her in reply was as fake as their relationship. Adrien could improvise all he wanted but he didn’t know about her encounter with his father when she brought the miraculous book back. How would Monsieur Agreste react when he sees that Adrien's admirer somehow became Adrien's girlfriend?

[Me 16:38 you need to tell him the truth]

She sent the text before she could change her mind.

Adrien read it and the panic returned to his eyes. He shook his head barely noticeably. Marinette raised her brows. “Please", she mouthed. He pursed his lips and lowered his gaze.

Marinette moved away from him to look out of the car window. She mourned the loss of his body heat just then realising how close to each other they were sitting and how comfortable it made her feel. Her stomach twisted into a double eight. She tried her best not to fidget nervously in her seat.

Her phone vibrated once more and at same time Adrien put his hand on top of her own.

[♥☼BFBF☼♥ 16:43 okay, I ll tell him, but I will do this my way]

[♥☼BFBF☼♥ 16:43 he is… not easy to talk to]

Now that, Marinette thought bitterly, was an understatement of the century. But she didn’t push away his hand and she returned his shy smile. She instantly felt bad for asking this of him. After all he knew his father better than anyone. Who was she to tell him what to do.

[Me 16:44 that’s fine. Do whatever you think is best]

[Me 16:44 I trust my best fake boy friend ;* ]

Adrien snorted at his screen and finally his smile reached his eyes. Unfortunately that was the moment the car rolled behind the gates and the bodyguard opened the door for her.

Showtime, Marinette thought smoothing her jacket and bracing herself before walking into the fashion lion’s den.

‘Take your friend to the dining room, Adrien,’ Mlle Sancoeur instructed in her cold, emotionless voice. ‘Your father will join you shortly.’

The boy nodded and led her to the large room on the right. The table was already set and Adrien encourage her to help herself to some hors d'oeuvre. He said it might take a while before his father gets there.

He was right. The server came with soup and there still was no sign of Monsieur Agreste. Adrien did his best to make her feel comfortable. Thanks to his efforts by the time second course appeared on the table she was giggling happy at his awful jokes, cheeks red and eyes twinkling. To her utmost surprise Adrien was an A class jokester, with a sense of humor that could rival Chat’s. Marinette briefly entertained the idea of introducing them to each other for the sole purpose of the resulting pun-off. On second thought the amount of corny jokes could actually be lethal so she eventually abandoned this plan.

She forgot all about the stress of facing her fashion idol when Adrien was touching her so tenderly each time she burst in laughter, when he was cackling at his own puns and when she retaliated with quips of her own. There was only one other person she felt as free with, but she never met him sans black mask. That thought made her frown mid joke and Adrien froze next to her startled with the sudden change.

Yet before she was able to assure him nothing was wrong the door to the room burst open and Gabriel Agreste stormed in, with a scowl of a hail cloud.

Their eyes met and Marinette could have sworn a lightning struck outside.

‘It’s you?’ the man raised a brow, his gaze skipping over her figure. He didn’t look pleased.

[jesus-otaku]

Title: Peculiar Familiarity (Part 5)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Marichat, some more implied Ladynoir

Word count: 1976 finally a chapter under 2k praise God

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

@kwiibi here’s the next part of your prize! This is definitely gonna end up being longer than initially planned, but I think it’ll turn out better for it.

I have other fics to update but honestly this one is coming to me the most easily so the other fics can just wait their turn

“This whole thing was just turning into more and more of a mess the longer they talked.”

________________________

“Your princess?” Ladybug repeated. Her smile had dropped from her face entirely, replaced by shock.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Chat Noir fumbled to save himself from the giant pit he had dug himself into. “Yeah, you know, like…it's kind of like I'm a knight in shining armor, right?” He flexed his arms, pasting what he hoped was a convincingly playful grin on his face. “Protecting the princess from evildoers at night. So I…kind of call her Princess. I mean, I did before, too,” he added. “When she helped with the Evillustrator. It fit at the time, and it still sort of fits, so it stuck.”

She laughed, but it wasn't the whole-hearted kind of laugh that she had earlier. It was quieter, weaker. Almost hurt. “Half the girls in Paris would be dying of envy if they knew you called someone Princess.”

He seized the opportunity. “Would you happen to be part of that half, my lady?” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. He could do this. They were back on familiar territory, playful banter they had made a million times before. All he had to do was steer the conversation back away from Marinette. He could do this.

His question earned him a slightly more genuine laugh. “In your dreams, kitty.” She shot him an amused smile. “Besides, I already have a special name from you. As if I would trade that to share a nickname with someone else.”

Good God.

This was not fair.

She should not be allowed to be this cute. It was going to be the death of him. How in the name of everything good and holy was he supposed to brush the whole calling-Marinette-his-princess thing off when just her smile was turning his brain into mush? Combine that with her comment, and he was going to die from lack of executive function. He nudged her shoulder with his, so lightly that he wondered if she even noticed. “I guess I can keep calling you my lady, in that case. Or do you prefer Bugaboo?”

She nudged him back, a little harder. “Three guesses. And the first two don't count.”

“Bugaboo it is, then,” he quipped.

“Chat!” she protested. She was laughing again, though. Her elbow dug into his ribs. “What should I call you, then? Cat-anova?”

“Was that a cat pun?” He grinned at her, delighted. “I think I'm in love with you even more now.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “It's your fault. My brain comes up with these idiotic puns now, and I know that all the blame lies with my stupid kitty cat.”

“You're welcome,” he said, somehow managing a deadpan delivery even though he wanted so badly to laugh at the mock-frustrated face she was making.

Ladybug groaned, but he could tell it was more affectionate than exasperated. She flopped back to lie flat on the roof. “Sometimes, kitty, I just don't know what to do with you.”

He twisted to catch her eye, and the fond way she was looking at him made his toes curl in his boots. “You've done pretty well so far just improvising.”

She snorted. “Because one spontaneous person in this partnership isn't enough.”

Chat untwisted himself and turned to face her, crossing his legs in front of him. “It keeps things interesting, doesn't it?”

“You're not wrong about that,” she agreed. She propped herself up on her elbows. “So, is this…the kind of stuff you talk about with Marinette, too?”

He blinked in confusion. What? He tried to speak, but all that came out was a baffled “huh?”

“You know.” She made a vague gesture with one hand. “Just…fooling around like this. Being yourself, instead of hamming it up like you do for an audience.”

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I am always being myself when I have an audience.”

She snorted again, obviously trying not to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

He did know. But he didn't want to talk about Marinette anymore. It was only serving to embarrass him in front of his lady. He wanted to change the topic, dammit. Why did she have to steer the conversation back to Marinette? “We just kind of…talk.” He leaned back on his hands. “We do joke around. When we play video games and stuff. It's not the same as you and me fooling around, but…”

“But?” Ladybug echoed.

If Chat could have melted right then and there into the roof they sat on, he would have. As things were, he wanted to kick himself a million times for ever offering to kiss Marinette's hand instead of Ladybug's and bringing this whole mess down on himself. “It feels the same, sometimes,” he admitted reluctantly. “The way she and I joke around, I mean. So, um…as far as your question goes…sort of? I try to be myself with her. But the way I act with her is never going to be identical to the way I act with you.”

Her smile tilted to one side, amused and devious and horribly, unfairly attractive. “Because she's your princess?”

Why, oh why had he told her about that nickname? “That's not it,” he blurted in a last-ditch attempt to save face. “That has nothing to do with it at all.” Her smile was only spreading, and he got the sinking feeling she didn't believe a word he was saying. He plowed on anyway. “It's just a nickname. It doesn't make a difference. Things would be the same if I called her something else. It's just that Princess happened to fit.”

Ladybug rolled onto her side and propped her chin in her hand. “You called her your princess.”

Yes, Chat decided, this was definitely the stupidest pickle he had ever gotten himself into, bar none. “Only because I'm the only one who calls her that.”

The smile dropped from Ladybug's face entirely again. He wondered what on earth he had said wrong now to make her look so disappointed.

Oh, God.

She didn't want him to date Marinette, did she?

“So back to the hand-kissing thing,” Ladybug said slowly, jolting Chat Noir back to attention, “why do you want to start kissing her hand instead of mine? Why make the offer?”

“Well…” He paused. Obviously, she was going to keep pressing this question until he gave her an actual answer, so he might as well do his best to gather his thoughts and explain himself. “I guess…part of it is because I know you kind of get sick of it sometimes. Pushing me away by the nose and all that.” She looked like she wanted to say something to that, but he plowed on, knowing that if he stopped he would never finish. “Marinette, she, um…she said she didn't mind. She actually said she thought it fit pretty well with me calling her Princess. You know, kind of like the knight in shining armor thing I mentioned earlier. A knight kissing his princess' hand and all that.” He somehow managed to paste a crooked smile on his face. “That's all there is to it.”

Ladybug was quiet for a moment, worrying at her bottom lip as if she wasn't sure what to say. Her gaze had dropped down to the roof while he'd been talking; now it flicked back up to his face. She looked even more confused and hurt than she had earlier. Chat's heart gave a tiny twinge of guilt. This whole thing was just turning into more and more of a mess the longer they talked. “I never meant for it to seem like I didn't like it,” she murmured.

Wait.

What?

“It's cute,” she went on, half tripping over her words. “The hand-kissing. It's just…you know, we need to stay focused when there's an akuma, and that was when you first started doing it, was when there were akumas around to fight. So then I just started pushing you away like that to keep us—you!—focused. And then you started doing it on patrols, and…well…I just meant to push you away to tease. I—I figured, you know, that was—that was our…our rhythm, our dynamic, so…” Her eyes had started darting every which way, as if she couldn't bring herself to look him in the face anymore. He could have sworn her face was pink, but in the dim light of nighttime, he didn't want to get his own hopes up. “It was never meant to actually push you away or anything. Just in good fun. And I'm really sorry if it came across as me wanting you to stop.”

Chat thought he might explode from a combination of relief and delight. She didn't mind! She thought it was cute! Him kissing her hand—cute!

Then he realized what that probably meant for Marinette.

“So, then, um…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “About Marinette…what should I tell her?”

She looked a little surprised at that. “Don't you want to kiss her hand?”

“I wouldn't have offered to do it if I didn't,” he pointed out. And immediately backtracked. “I mean, just—she's a friend, you know? Like you are. She's not the same as you—obviously she's not the same as you—but I mean, it's…like you said, right? That it's in good fun.”

“I meant,” Ladybug said, enunciating every word carefully, “do you want to kiss her hand instead of mine?”

“If you would prefer things that way, my lady,” Chat answered.

She waved the statement off. “Forget what I want or don't want for a minute. Do you want to kiss her hand? If you had to pick one of us.”

“'If'?” he echoed.

Ladybug fidgeted, as if she was embarrassed. “There's no rule saying you can only do it with one of us and not both,” she reasoned. “If it's just in good fun and doesn't mean anything, then…”

He stared at her. He was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open like an idiot, but he couldn't really bring himself to care at the moment. “You mean…?”

“You don't have to stop kissing my hand if you don't want to,” Ladybug confirmed, “and you can kiss Marinette's if you want to. I don't have a problem with either.” She waited for a minute for him to respond, but when it became clear that he was too far in shock to do more than gape, she fidgeted again and did her best to look very busy watching the cars go by below. “If you don't want to have to pick, that is,” she mumbled.

Chat still couldn't manage to say anything coherent.

She waited for another minute, patiently, before saying anything else. “You…don't have to decide tonight. I can wait. We should call it a night anyway.” She stood and then helped him up. For once, she didn't pull her hand away the minute he was on his feet. And then he realized why.

She was waiting to see what he would do.

Because if it really didn't mean anything, it wouldn't matter if he kissed both their hands, right?

But oh God, it definitely did mean something.

And she knew it.

He could tell she knew it. Her expression was half wistful, half bitter, her lips curled up on one side in a wry attempt at a smile, as she stood there with her hand clasped in his and waited for him to do something. Whatever she had said about giving him more time to decide, she was clearly expecting something from him tonight.

For once, Chat couldn't quite bring himself to kiss her hand.

He laced their fingers together, squeezing her hand in his for a brief moment before letting go. “Good night, my lady.”

Her lips tugged up a little at the corners, but her eyes were full of something he could only call resignation. “Good night, Chat Noir.”