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mlwritersguild · 4 years ago

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let me in (to your heart) by @xiueryn

Prompt: chlodrienette best friend shenanigans ( @theladyfae )

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“I can't do this,” Marinette complained, burying her face into her hands.

Chloé sighed. “Can you not ruin your make-up? Your eyeliner hasn't even dried properly yet.”

Spreading her fingers, she looked up at her through them. “That bad?”

Chloé grimaced. “You look like shit, yeah.”

“This is a terrible idea!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Why did I think that this would be fine? He's chosen an Italian restaurant! Italian!”

“Pretend you've got a gluten allergy,” was the response to that.

“I already agreed to go,” Marinette lamented.

Chloé ignored her, picking up a make-up wipe and scrubbing at Marinette's face to start from scratch, holding onto her chin to keep her head in place.

“I feel like a mannequin,” she muttered.

Chloé tutted. “Stop talking, then.”

“No, I need to get the rambling out now,” Marinette retorted, making a startled noise when Chloé flicked the end of her nose. “How am I going to get a second date if I can't even sit there without going off on stupid tangents? I'm not my cutest when I rant.”

“You're never that cute,” Chloé replied.

“I'm cuter than you,” she proclaimed.

Chloé laughed. “That's because I don't look like I'm a teenager.”

“...You're literally stuck at eighteen?” Marinette pointed out, furrowing her brow. “There's nothing to rub in when you probably towered over your class-mates all through school. I hope they called you mean names.”

Chloé's smile was all teeth. “I was the one doing the bullying, thank you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “No wonder you got accused of being a witch.”

The make-up was done with minimal bickering. Marinette happily accepted the outfit that was shoved her way, ignoring Chloé's judgemental look at what she'd intended to wear in the first place, and swapped clothes without smudging any of her eyeshadow.

When she looked in the mirror, Marinette leaned in and complimented, “That's a really nice wing! They're so even.”

“I'm steady with a knife,” Chloé replied.

She patted her shoulder. “That's nice.”

“You could learn from me,” Chloé said, knocking her hand off. “You'd ruin less clothes that way—then again, it's not much of a loss when you look like you've stumbled out a supermarket with a full wardrobe.”

“There's nothing wrong with their clothes,” she accused, pointing a finger. “You're too stuck up and rich to branch out. There's more to life than being a snob.”

“I've lived longer than you for a reason,” Chloé announced with a dramatic brush of her hair over her shoulder.

“Because you're older,” Marinette said.

Chloé scoffed. “You pay for what you get. That's why you're going to order the most expensive dishes and make him pay for you.”

“What? No!” she spluttered. “That's a terrible idea. I like him.”

“You barely know him.”

“He already bought me a coffee!” she replied, raising her voice when Chloé shot her an unimpressed look. “It was nice, okay. He spilled mine and—”

“I already heard about your meet-cute before,” Chloé interrupted, utterly disinterested. “I really don't care. You go get that dick, but don't tell me about it.”

She made a strangled noise. “I'm not after his dick—”

“Why else would you be going out with him?” Chloé questioned. “There's only one reason, Marinette. You want him to touch your ass.”

“I don't like this topic,” she announced.

Chloé cast a critical gaze down to her chest. “You're wearing the push-up bra, right?”

“Can't you tell?” Marinette asked.

“No,” was the blunt answer to that.

She crossed her arms, pouting. “I never had a growth spurt there, okay.”

“Boobs don't get growth spurts.”

She raised her middle finger.

Chloé rolled her eyes before turning Marinette around, intent on doing her hair nicely.

“Love you,” Marinette said.

She got her hair yanked for that.

It was worth it in the end.

The result was her hair neatly twisted into a nice braid, complete with freshly trimmed bangs that Chloé had put years into honing her skills with. Chloé had left behind the days where Marinette could be embarrassed whenever anyone asked her what happened to her hair the day after.

“You're really good,” she complimented.

Chloé winked. “I'm also good with scissors.”

She huffed. “I don't appreciate your lesbian jokes.”

“You're just bitter you can't say them back to me.”

“It's unfair!” she exclaimed.

“It's homophobic when it comes from you,” Chloé teased. “Text me if you're staying out. I'll be waiting up for you until then.”

Marinette laughed. “I'm not going to run away into the sunset with him.”

“Well, you might,” Chloé mused. “If you time it correctly, it could work.”

“It's never worked out with humans before,” she pointed out.

“Why are you wasting your time?” Chloé asked to that, tilting her head. “He can't be that cute.”

She beamed. “He's a little cute.”

“You're a little touched in the head,” Chloé responded.

Marinette kicked her shin.

-x-

Adrien turned up with flowers.

Marinette felt like she was going to swoon until she realised that he had a mullet for a hairstyle.

There was a lot of staring.

“Are you okay?” he questioned, concerned.

She made a choked noise. “Yes, I—I'm totally fine. Yes.”

When he turned his head, it was clear that it was uneven and choppy, but not in a nice way that could be pulled off by those with somewhat of a style to their look; rather, it looked completely out of place when paired with his shirt tucked into his trousers.

But when he smiled at her, making it so the dimples were obvious on his cheeks, she had to wonder whether he was cute enough to suffer through Italian food.

They ended up in a booth.

On the plus side, when they were sat across from each other, his hair didn't look that bad from the front.

They'd only had a coffee together before—when he'd had a hat on the entire time, hiding his atrocity of a hairstyle—and he'd been charming enough for her to accept his invitation of going on a date since he felt that simply buying her a drink wasn't enough to make up for dirtying her favourite coat.

He was nice.

At least, that was her thought until he ordered garlic bread for an appetiser.

Marinette's smile was strained as she said, “Sounds great.”

He didn't notice that it wasn't sincere.

When the array of appetisers that they'd picked out to share came, Marinette avoided the garlic bread, picking at the others before she almost choked from a mouthful when she realised that it had garlic in it.

She hadn't paid enough attention to the menu.

Adrien hurriedly passed her a glass of water, concerned. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes watered.

“You're asking me that a lot,” she quipped, voice coming out hoarse, the stinging of her tongue only making her tear up more. “I'm good, I just—I don't really like garlic? I didn't realise it was there until I bit down on a bit hunk of it.”

He gasped. “You're biting hunks other than me on our date?”

She laughed, caught off-guard. “Is that a problem?”

“Well, not if you let me in on the action,” he replied, pointing his fork at her. “How does a threesome sound?”

“Like a lot of pressure,” she mused, not embarrassed in the slightest as she cleared her throat in an attempt to get it to clear up. “I can barely please one person, isn't it going to overwhelming to have someone else there?”

“Oh, same,” Adrien agreed, shoulders sagging in relief. “We can count that out for the future.”

She snorted. “That's good to know.”

“I won't be presenting a threesome as a good date idea,” he confirmed with a nod of his head. “I'll stick to courting you old school.”

“Courting?” Marinette managed to get out through her laughter. “What the hell?”

The top of his ears were red as he stuffed some garlic bread in his mouth.

His eyes watered.

She was the one to ask, “You all right there?”

“I'm great.” Adrien's voice cracked. “Totally fine.”

He started to blink rapidly and turn redder, looking less like it was from embarrassment with every passing moment. There was nothing but discomfort in his body language as he placed the garlic bread back down on the plate and hastily spat out his mouthful into a napkin.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, scrunching it up and putting it into his pocket.

Marinette stared. “You saving that for later?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The bread?” she clarified, gesturing his way. “You could just put it on your plate, dude. It's less weird that way.”

“I—right,” he stuttered, doing as she suggested and placing the napkin on the plate.

It was wet.

He made an embarrassed noise, hastily turning his plate around so she wouldn't see that side of the napkin any more.

It didn't do anything to fix the awkward situation.

“I'm not good with gluten,” he blurted.

Marinette tilted her head. “You ordered pasta.”

“In bread form,” he hastily corrected, running a hand through his hair. “Bread hates me. We have a very fragile relationship.”

“I think I'm learning far too much about you right now,” she mused, lifting her hand up and counting on her fingers. “You're too socially awkward for threesomes and your arch nemesis is bread in any form.”

He shifted in his seat. “Yes?”

She leaned in and whispered, “I hate garlic knots.”

He looked dumbfounded.

Marinette winked.

And as he smiled, he looked significantly more relaxed.

They both cringed at their mains when they came. When she glanced up and saw his matching expression, he laughed along with her before picking at the food.

Marinette decided to splurge on dessert and order multiple.

Adrien followed her example.

He was more animated when sugar was put in front of them.

“Honestly, I normally share a starter with my friend and skip right to desserts,” Marinette said with a pleasant hum after she'd swallowed a mouthful, satisfied with the taste. There was nothing harmful in it. “Might as well eat what I enjoy if I'm spending all this money, you know?”

“Try some of this,” Adrien encouraged, nudging his plate towards her.

She swapped one of hers for his.

His smile grew when she said it was nice.

“And this,” he said, gesturing to the other bowl.

She exchanged them again, sure her happiness showed on her expression when she tasted it.

And as she wiped her bottom lip with her thumb, she caught him looking.

Marinette made the decision to make eye contact and lick her thumb.

She could see it as he swallowed.

-x-

“He was so nice,” Marinette gushed, lounging back on the sofa with her legs thrown over the arm, not bothering to pull her shirt down to cover her stomach. “And he didn't complain when I ate over half of his dessert like the last guy—”

“When are you going to ask about my night?” Chloé demanded.

“You didn't do anything,” she pointed out. “I already know this, you were in pyjamas when I came back.”

Chloé huffed. “Those were my sexy pyjamas.”

She laughed. “Do you own anything else?”

“That's besides the point,” Chloé retorted. “You don't care about me when you get all stupid over a crush. I feel so neglected.”

“I ditched you for one night!” she exclaimed.

“One night too many.”

“The night before that you went out!” Marinette accused, jabbing a finger in the air at her. “And you never let me come along! But if I'm the one to go out, it's a problem? You're such a hypocrite.”

“That's different,” Chloé proclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. “I'm not letting you meet Adrien because you'll end up best friends and leave me out.”

She scoffed. “It's been thirty years!”

Chloé raised her eyebrows. “And you'll wait thirty more.”

“Ridiculous,” Marinette muttered under her breath. “I'm not going to ditch you! And from all the stupid shit you tell me, why would I even like him?”

“You think I tell you the good stuff?” Chloé's laugh echoed in the room. “No, absolutely not. I don't need you putting him on a pedestal. I'm keeping you apart for the good of the world.”

“Good of the world?” she questioned, narrowing her eyes. “You're a serial killer.”

Chloé waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, details.”

Marinette quickly sat up as she demanded, “Let me get into the details of my date!”

“I don't want to hear it—”

“I'm leaving you for another tomorrow!” she interrupted, adamant. “And I'm going to that restaurant you like, so fuck you.”

Chloé scowled. “Bring me something back.”

“I will if you listen to me,” she proposed.

Chloé obediently sat down in the armchair.

Marinette beamed.

It was nice to gush about all the little details; explaining how Adrien had accidentally kicked her under the table and turned red when he apologised, to his shy smile whenever she'd complimented him. His personality had more than made up for his strange sense of style—then again, maybe that was what made him so unique.

Chloé's interest was entirely forced until she mentioned his haircut.

“What?” Marinette questioned when Chloé's shoulders were shaking with her laughter. “I don't think you can have that reaction when you haven't seen him—”

“A mullet's a very... bold choice,” Chloé eventually got out, voice breathy from her amusement. “And if he's not pulling it off, that's even more impressive, don't you think?”

She blinked. “I guess?”

Chloé laughed louder.

Marinette looked at her oddly.

Adrien was easy to talk to over text.

He accepted her excuse that she had to work during the day, offering to meet up in the evenings either for dinner or a coffee in the later hours, frequenting the odd café that was open late instead of going anywhere that served alcohol.

They got along well.

Marinette's cheeks hurt from smiling whenever they were together, genuinely laughing at his jokes and being reminded that she wasn't completely wasting her time when they wouldn't work out in the end.

She wasn't seeing him for something long-lasting; he was a phase to keep her entertained, and he was doing a delightful job at that.

He was fun.

That was confirmed when they went bowling after Marinette had mentioned in passing that her best friend refused to go because she didn't want to break her nails.

Over the years, she'd learned to redact information to make it easier for her ex-flings not to track her down when they parted. Luckily, Adrien wasn't questioning the lack of mentioning Chloé's name.

“Your friend sounds ridiculous,” he mused, testing out the weights of the bowling balls to find the right one. “What else does she restrict you of?”

“My sanity,” she quipped.

He laughed. “Is that all? I think we all have a little bit missing.”

“And my favourite shirt,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “She wanted to try the innocent look to seduce someone and never gave it back. It's still in her wardrobe, I think.”

“So, take it back?” he suggested.

Marinette snorted. “She's stronger than me.”

“I meant steal, not fight her for it,” Adrien replied. “You don't have to tussle her for clothing.”

“Maybe I do,” she remarked. “Why else do you think I end up with the fluffiest dressing gown out of us two? I have to fight for it every time.��

He tilted his head. “You trade dressing gowns?”

“She steals it,” she corrected.

He still looked confused.

“Oh.” She had a moment of realisation. “I live with her. Did I forget to mention that?”

Adrien let out a laugh. “Okay, that makes so much more sense now. You're not just kidnapping clothes from each other's place each time.”

With a grin, she said, “I mean, that did happen before—”

“Might as well lessen the distance and move in together?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. “I would hate to live with my best friend. She's so... annoying.”

Marinette asked, “That bad?”

“I love her but she's too much,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair and messing up the neat hairstyle that he'd had. The mullet was long gone. And when he realised what he said, he hastily added on, “Not in that way! It's platonic! She's the gayest person I've ever met—”

She mused, “I wasn't worried.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I—yes. Sorry.”

It was a little awkward then.

He threw the ball.

It went into the gutter instantly.

They put up the barriers after Marinette did the same thing, a bit embarrassed about how terrible she was.

At least they bonded over how bad they were.

The date was made sweeter when Adrien came back with slushies of all flavours available for them to share, along with different foods to snack on. It was greasy, overpriced, but she was smiling as she constantly wiped her hands with napkins before taking her turn with the ball.

She won, somehow.

Adrien congratulated her by giving her the best-tasting slushie to finish off.

“Don't mind if I do,” she replied, bowing her head in gratitude before taking a dramatic sip.

He was smiling at her.

And when they kissed after he walked her to her car first, he held her hand softly and pulled her close. It felt far more intimate than she thought it would when it was combined with the lamps dimly illuminating his face, the warmth of his breath on her skin, and the fondness in his expression that shouldn't have been deserved for only knowing each other for weeks.

The kiss was underwhelming.

Marinette frowned when he pulled back after only a few moments, barely enough time for her to respond or even pull him closer, and then he was stepping away and wishing her a good night.

She was baffled.

There was a chance that he was shy.

Chloé would've only teased her, so she didn't reveal that information.

At least, that was until it happened for the next three dates; all of which had been for dinner in different restaurants that weren't too busy, so she could sit close to him and enjoy her garlic-free food.

Since that first date, he'd latched onto that, recommending places with dishes that would be for her liking.

In theory, Adrien was a catch. He was pretty and tall, dressed well, had a nice personality and sense of humour, and they time together never felt wasted until it came time to leave and his kisses left more to be imagined.

It got to the point that Marinette didn't know what to do.

Chloé scoffed. “Kiss him.”

“What if I'm his first?” she blurted. “He could be shy—”

“He sounds like a loser,” Chloé retorted. “No wonder you won't tell me anything else.”

“Because you'd search him up and stalk him, literally,” she deadpanned. “You did it before! I'm not letting you scare him away, okay? I want to actually have some fun first.”

“How are you going to get his dick if he won't even kiss you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Must you phrase it like that?”

“What? Like you're after his heart?” Chloé replied, raising her eyebrows. “He's human, get real. Either fuck or drain him. Stop stalling.”

She spluttered, “I don't want to drain him!”

“Why not?” Chloé countered. “It's always better from a pretty face.”

Marinette crossed her arms as she started to say, “Unless there's drugs in his system, anyone else with his blood type will taste the same—”

“Save me the lecture,” Chloé interrupted. “I'm not going to suck some creep, all right? I deserve nice things.”

“He's my nice thing,” she lamely replied.

Chloé snorted. “With a mullet.”

“That's gone! And I said he looks nice in a hat, so he's wearing them still sometimes,” she admitted with a laugh. “And him in a beret? I think that's my kink.”

Chloé wasn't impressed. “You don't have a kink.”

She sniffed. “You don't deserve to know that.”

“I was your girlfriend—”

“We went on barely any dates!” Marinette exclaimed, pointing at her in accusation. “And you wanted to suck me dry!”

Chloé's smile showed her teeth. “You're too pretty to die. Aren't you happy that you're stuck with me forever now?”

“I hate you,” she proclaimed.

Chloé winked. “You'll tell me your boy-toy's name soon.”

“I will not,” she denied stubbornly. “You can't keep scaring them away because you don't like sharing me with anyone else.”

“The last one wore a cap backwards,” Chloé pointed out. “You deserve better.”

She frowned. “That picture was over ten years old.”

“Ten years ago, you were still hot,” Chloé replied, clearly thinking that her response was clever.

Marinette was entirely unimpressed. “I'm immortal.”

“That doesn't mean that you're automatically hot,” Chloé stated without missing a beat, that smug smile still on her lips. “Before me, you were a hopeless little thing. Aren't you happy I took you under my wing? You get all the nice haircuts, you can borrow my clothes—”

“You're my sugar daddy, I get it,” she interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “Now can you give me some actual advice instead of plotting his murder? I like him.”

Chloé's advise ended up being, “Don't waste your time with a virgin.”

She frowned. “That's not—”

“You've been on how many dates?” Chloé demanded.

“...A lot,” she relented.

“And neither of you have gone to each other's homes.”

“I'm not bringing him back here!” Marinette exclaiming, wildly gesturing at her. “You'd be here to intimidate him! Or you'd lie and say that you're going out—”

Chloé scoffed. “It was one time—”

“It was more than once!” she corrected with a disapproving noise. “I'm serious, I like him. He holds my hand, lets me eat more if I like a dish, and he just—he looks at me sweetly, you know?”

Chloé bluntly said, “But he won't tongue you.”

She pulled a face. “You don't have to phrase it like that.”

“I'm telling you, just pin him down and kiss him.”

“Pin him down on the car?” she demanded. “That's a terrible idea.”

Chloé brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Stop being a pussy.”

“I'm not—”

“If you're too scared to bring him here, go to a hotel,” Chloé advised.

“Isn't that... weird?” she questioned.

Chloé shrugged. “You're rich, what's the problem?”

“I... haven't told him that?” she admitted, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. “I mean, he doesn't really know much about me. I never say that much.”

“Splurge on a bottle of wine and see his reaction first,” was the advice to that.

Marinette frowned. “But I don't like expensive wine.”

“Even better.” Chloé smiled. “Show that you're not upset about wasting all that money.”

-x-

Adrien didn't question the wine.

She hadn't taken all of Chloé's advice and booked a hotel—that had seemed too forward and out of nowhere, let alone how awkward she would've felt to try and explain her spur of the moment decision.

Adrien was sweet, truly. He text her a lot, sent good morning messages and asked whether she slept well daily. He enquired about her meals to see if she was eating properly, going as far as to suggest that they schedule for another day if she was feeling tired.

It wasn't a problem that he was reluctant to send pictures, admitting that he wasn't photogenic and felt too shy to be in front of the camera. And when that was paired up with his social media accounts that didn't have any pictures of him on it, it added up.

He didn't question her weird actions; not when she hid her face in his shoulder after kissing sometimes to hide her fangs, hadn't noticed her lack of reflections in anything, let alone her aversion to stepping outside only when it was dark.

All of his actions didn't seem platonic when they were paired with him looking at her in person with that soft smile, but when they kissed, she had to question whether they were better off as friends, maybe.

It wasn't an unknown situation for her.

There had been flings that she hadn't quite felt the chemistry with. When they'd disappointed her in bed, she'd taken after Chloé's bloodthirsty side and killed them by drinking too much.

She'd give Adrien a few more chances.

Chloé had picked out the clothes for her carefully, styled her hair cutely, and placed condoms into her hand then ran out of the door before Marinette could retaliate.

She left them at home.

Adrien told her all about his friends, excitedly retelling a recent story that had ended in disaster. She sipped her overpriced wine and nodded along, encouraging him to tell more, and by the end, she had a better idea of the people that he kept around him.

They sounded nice.

The only person she had close to her was Chloé.

After turning, she hadn't kept any humans nearby. Her flings couldn't be classed as friends when they either parted because of a death or Marinette moved away and changed her number so they wouldn't be able to contact her any more.

Not having pictures of herself social media was a pain sometimes. Yet when she said that she didn't like it, preferring to take pictures of the world around her instead, Adrien admitted that he was the same.

“I think it's bothersome,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “It's not like I'm super paranoid or anything. I don't think someone's going to track me down because my face is online. I just—I want that little bit of privacy, I guess?”

“I get it,” she agreed with a smile. “Plus it's easier to have an aesthetic to my account that way.”

Adrien beamed. “It's not food, is it?”

“Too much effort,” Marinette replied. “It's hard enough to make my own food look presentable when it's just for me. I can't imagine trying to fix it up for a photoshoot.”

He sighed. “I follow too many food accounts. It's become a habit now and I hate it.”

She laughed. “Does it make you hungry?”

“I'm a terribly jealous person,” he agreed, nodding. “I can't handle seeing it when all I have is some sugary cereal that makes me regret it when I can feel the sugar on my teeth after.”

“So, brush your teeth,” she said.

He sighed. “Yes...”

“You're not saying you don't brush them, are you?” she questioned, leaning back. “Because I've been kissing you. I kind of need to know.”

“Of course I brush them!” Adrien exclaimed, laughing. “I just—I don't like the taste of toothpaste. It's the worst part of my day.”

She snorted. “Really?”

“Yes!” he insisted, gesturing to his face. “And I can't even see how much of a mess my hair is when I'm doing it!”

She tilted her head. “You don't have a mirror in your bathroom?”

“What?” he questioned.

Marinette frowned. “You said you can't see?”

“Oh, I—” Adrien visibly fumbled, shifting in his seat. “It's because I don't have my contacts in?”

It came out sounding like a question.

“Lame,” she said.

“Very lame,” he readily agreed, clearing his throat. “Anything else you hate? Other than garlic.”

She joked, “Getting sunburnt.”

He winced. “I feel you there.”

She paid for the meal without him attempting to stop her.

And when wandered to the car park with no intention of going anywhere else together, Marinette was the same to take his hand into hers before turning to look at him with a smile.

Adrien's expression wasn't disinterested. His gaze slipped down to her lips, watching as she wetted them, and his thumb traced patterns onto the back of her hand as he leaned down to lessen the height difference between them.

Marinette closed her eyes, tilting her head up and eagerly responding when his lips pressed against hers. It was soft, as gentle as all the others had been, and there was no mistaking that he was going to leave it as chaste as well.

She took the opportunity to let go of his hand and wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him more, making her intentions known.

He made a confused noise.

And when Adrien pulled away, pushing at her gently to make them part, the redness on his face was obvious in the dim lighting.

“What's wrong?” Marinette questioned, letting her hands fall down to her side as she took a step back, caught between feeling rejected or embarrassed. “Are you okay?”

“I—yes,” he stuttered out, holding a hand up to cover his mouth as he took a step back until he bumped into her car, always walking her to hers first. “I'm just—I wasn't expecting that.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

“Why?” he repeated, baffled.

“We've been on so many dates,” she pointed out, shoving her hands into the pocket of her coat. “But this is too much?”

“That's not—that's not it,” he hastily said, eyes wide as his hand fell back down to his side. “I didn't know if you'd like it?”

She stared.

He stared back, offering her a shaky smile.

“Are you serious?” she eventually asked, incredulous.

“Yes?” There was that questioning lilt to his voice again, making him sound ever-so-uncertain. “I haven't—I haven't dated for ages, I'm sorry. I didn't want to push you or anything.”

She let out a sigh. “Are you an idiot?”

“Yes, definitely,” Adrien confirmed without hesitation, running a hand through his hair and letting her see that his ears were still red. “I just—I really like you, Marinette. I'm trying not to fuck this up.”

She questioned, “How old are you?”

He looked taken aback. “How old am I?”

“You're old enough to do more than this,” she said, gesturing to him with a nod of her head. “I've been getting whiplash because you look like you want to eat me sometimes, then you kiss me like we're in primary school.”

He made a choked noise. “I don't want to eat you—”

“You stare at my lips a lot when I'm eating,” she pointed out.

He cleared his throat. “You're pretty.”

“I am,” she readily agreed. “And I deserve more than someone that can't decide if kissing with tongue is too much. That's—that's so fucking stupid?”

Adrien winced. “I get it.”

“You're so stupid,” she told him, letting out a laugh. “I almost can't believe it.”

He seemed embarrassed as he asked, “Does that—does that mean you want it?”

“...What.”

His expression could only be described as a grimace. “Do you want me to kiss you like that?”

She snorted. “Why?”

He tried to smile, but it came out shaky. “I need consent?”

“You can't be serious,” she said, bewildered.

“Please?” Adrien all but pleaded. “Humour me.”

“I think you've lost your mind,” she stated.

“Please,” he said, taking a step forward to lessen the distance, leaning in until he could rest his forehead against hers. It was a little awkward with the height difference. “Can I kiss you like that?”

“Of course you can,” she replied, bumping her nose gently against his. “You can do anything you want with me. Do you need it in writing?”

She could feel his breath on her skin. “Can you say it again?”

“Say it?” she questioned.

“That I can,” he clarified, smile reaching his eyes. “Please.”

She huffed. “Is this necessary?”

“Consider it a binding deal,” he said, winking. “Once you've said it it'll be in effect forever. No take-backs.”

“You can kiss me with tongue?” she replied.

He beamed. “Without the question mark.”

She did.

And with that, he gently pressed his lips against hers.

Marinette closed her eyes, leaning into him with a pleased noise, making it so their chests were touching as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His lips were soft, there was the warmth of his breath on her skin, and the product he'd put into his hair had a nice scent when they were so close.

It was made better when he hesitantly deepened the kiss, tongue touching her own for the first time. Although it wasn't her first time doing it—hadn't been for years—there was that fluttering feeling of excitement from experiencing something new with him and liking what he had to offer thus far.

He wasn't repulsive.

Adrien was far from that, in fact; he was attractive, had a nice sense of humour, and the newly added soft kiss was nothing to complain about.

He kissed her until she almost felt breathless.

The redness of his lips afterwards had her smile reaching her eyes.

It was made even better when he stayed close, nudging her nose with his before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, everything about his expression and body language screaming that he liked her.

She wasn't tired of him in the slightest.

-x-

There was a lot of making out after that.

Marinette wasn't shy with her affection any more; she wrapped her arms around him when they met up, readily kissing him before he could so much as say hello, smiling up at him a little dopey when they parted, that surge of happiness from being so close to him never seeming to get old.

Their relationship was new and shiny.

She liked spending time with him, regardless of what they were doing. It was always outside where other people were. Marinette had simply said that she wasn't comfortable bringing anyone over with her best friend at home all of the time—working from there, she said—and Adrien hadn't said any excuse, though his lack of invitation was a surprise to her.

It was strange to take it slow.

There wasn't the nerves and self-consciousness that had been present for her first relationship when she was a teenager. She was more confident, knew that she was pretty and had a sense of humour, and she wasn't constantly questioning whether she'd done something wrong when he took a while to reply to her texts.

It was a healthy relationship.

She was a bit sexually frustrated, that was all.

He was lucky he was cute enough to be worth it.

“Come on,” Adrien encouraged with a laugh, tugging her through the door. “This'll be fun!”

“There's a children's birthday party going out,” she pointed out, unimpressed. “And I think that's a lullaby on the radio.”

“Well, you can't scar the kiddos with top hits, can you?” he replied, leaning closer so he could speak in a hushed voice and not be overheard by the other customers at the tables. “There's too much ass and sass nowadays. It would corrupt them.”

She snorted. “The radio isn't age-restricted.”

“It should be,” he proclaimed. “Back in my day, that would've been a punishable offence.”

“Like swearing before nine at night on television?” she questioned.

He winked. “More like having tomatoes thrown at you, but sure.”

She laughed. “You're barely older than me!”

“I remember the ancient times,” he proclaimed as they shuffled up in the queue closer to the counter. “I'm cursed with my knowledge, so I must share it with you.”

“Must?” she asked. “I don't want any part of your curse, thanks. You can keep it.”

“Sharing is caring,” he insisted.

“Stop caring about me,” she demanded.

Adrien placed his hands on her cheeks, squishing them and making her pucker her lips. “How can I when you're so cute?”

She bit his finger.

He made a loud noise, drawing the attention of others. And when he realised that they had an audience of parents and children looking at them curiously, he quickly dropped his hands, shoving them into his pockets as he straightened up.

She grinned. “Behaving now, are you?”

He shot her a dirty look. “I'm always on my best behaviour.”

“You're really not,” she denied. “You threw your money at the cashier earlier.”

“I panicked!” he defended, talking fast in the way that she knew to mean that he was embarrassed. “I had slippery fingers, okay? I overthought how much to give her and ended up just tossing it.”

She patted his shoulder. “That's not your best.”

He sniffed. “I tried.”

“We're up,” she said, nudging him with her elbow to get him to move forward. “What are we doing, master? You're the one that's deciding for us.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Don't call me master.”

Marinette waggled her eyebrows. “Not appropriate for the kids?”

“Not appropriate ever,” he said, grimacing. “I'm not into that.”

“Good to know,” she mused. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yes,” he started, pointing behind her. “We're painting mugs.”

With all the time they spent out together, they couldn't always eat or drink. Adrien had jumped at the chance to bring her to paint pottery at a shop that was open late enough for them to meet up.

The sun set earlier in the fall, though Adrien wasn't questioning why she was available earlier than normal.

They'd been dating three months at that point.

Chloé said it was absurd that they hadn't had sex yet.

Marinette thought he was sweet.

After being placed at a table at the back—the furthest away from the birthday party of children that were loud and clearly enjoying their time there—Adrien was looking at her with that dopey smile, clearly excited about how they were going to spend their evening.

“I think I dressed up too much,” she mused, looking down at her dress.

“Anyone does when compared to six-year-olds,” he mused.

“They look at least ten,” she replied, raising her eyebrows. “Are you unfamiliar with kids?”

“It's been a few centuries for me,” he joked. “And none of my friends are technically parents, so.”

“Technically?” she questioned. “They're not running around and stealing kids, are they?”

He beamed. “More like adopting grown adults into their bad lifestyles.”

Marinette laughed. “You're making it sound like a cult.”

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “Isn't every good lifestyle one? I mean, look at football fans. That's basically the same thing.”

She didn't try and argue. “If you say so.”

“The only thing I'm passionate about is my sleep schedule,” he mused. “And making my food look pretty. That's very important.”

“Every word that comes out of your mouth is a wonder,” she remarked.

Adrien laughed. “Because I'm so pretty?”

“Pretty weird,” she said, nudging his foot underneath the table. “Why do I like you so much? It confuses me when I try and think about it too hard.”

“It's my pretty face,” he replied, putting his hand under his chin and fluttering his eyelashes. “It lures you in and makes you feel at ease, doesn't it?”

“...No?”

“No?” he repeated, offended. “How dare you.”

“You're pretty intimidating, to be honest,” she confessed. “If you didn't stutter when you apologised for spilling my drink before, I would've wanted to turn and run away. There's something scary about someone's that so nice-looking, you know?”

He tilted his head. “You.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“You're very nice,” he confirmed with a nod of his head. “I know I joke and seem really arrogant sometimes, but it is weird to me how you're... here? Still, I mean. You're not turning me away.”

“Why would I?” she asked.

“Well, I—” Adrien cleared his throat. “I was pretty weird?”

“Was?” she echoed. “You still are, dude. I think it's kinda charming.”

“Okay, weirdo,” he replied, letting out a breath of amusement. “I can't say that I've heard that before.”

Marinette tucked some hair behind her ear. “Shouldn't I be saying all of this to you? You've never complained about my work schedule or anything. I can't tell you how many of my exes got mad about that eventually. Hell, sometimes I never got to the second date because I wouldn't be able to make it while it was still light out.”

“I work then, too,” he pointed out.

She stared. “You do?”

“Yes?” It came out sounding like a question. “Haven't I—I did tell you that, right?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “I might've zoned out? I can't really remembering hearing anything about your work—other than you, like, being bored and texting me.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well.”

“Well,” she repeated.

He lamely explained, “I work.”

She laughed. “Cool, same.”

The employee came over with their bottles of paints and brushes, explaining how everything worked. Their time slot was until closing time, giving them a few hours to finish their mugs before making an appointment to come back and pick them up in the upcoming days.

Marinette squeezed out too much paint by accident.

“Easy,” Adrien teased, using his brush to scoop some of it onto his palette. “You're making me reconsider inviting you home if you grip it too tightly.”

She kicked him. “There's children!”

He winked. “There won't be at my house.”

She promptly ignored him, tilting her mug to start to paint it.

Adrien nudged her with his foot under the table, but she continued to pretend he wasn't there. It evolved into the two of them tapping each other with their feet, one-by-one as the time passed, keeping it gentle and as juvenile as she felt while painting pottery.

“I haven't done this before,” she admitted.

“Really?” he questioned. “I dragged my best friend before, but her patience is... zero? She was done after five minutes and wanted to leave because she was bored.”

“Oh, rough,” she remarked. “I don't know, these things weren't really around where I lived with my parents before. I mostly had to amuse myself, you know?”

He nudged her foot. “Anything else you missed out on?”

“A lot,” she mused. “I lived in this really quiet village growing up. I mean, there was only one supermarket there and the nearest cinema was the next town over. My parents didn't like me using public transport, so I never went anywhere.”

“Because you were too young or—”

She laughed. “They thought it was dirty. And, to be fair, it pretty much was. Everything's more cared for now.”

“I think my parents would've been the same,” he said, smile not quite meeting his eyes. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“You don't know?” she asked.

“It's been a while,” he admitted with a laugh. “I have a terrible memory. It's like if I don't meet someone for a few months, they're completely out of my mind.”

Amused, she asked, “So, if I go on a... business trip, you'll forget me?”

He winked. “I'll forget your face, not you.”

“That's not very reassuring at all,” she replied, raising her eyebrows. “How am I supposed to send you selfies to remind you? It's impossible.”

“I'll have an artist paint a portrait of you, of course,” Adrien announced, somehow holding back his laughter. “I'll hang it above my fireplace.”

“You have a fireplace?”

“What, you don't?” he questioned.

“I only moved here a few months ago,” she pointed out. “I wasn't exactly picking out the best place there was. My only requirement was to have two bedrooms so I wouldn't have to share again. It gets really awkward.”

He laughed. “I only have one bedroom because I don't live with anyone.”

“Well, you try and shake her off,” Marinette retorted. “She follows me everywhere! It's like we're attached at the hip.”

“Your friend sounds... interesting,” he remarked.

She tutted. “She's the worst.”

“The worst, then,” he agreed easily. “So bad that I can't learn her name, yes.”

“Who says you can't?” Marinette questioned, tilting her mug to pain another side. “You haven't earned that privilege yet.”

Instead of being offended, as so many others had been before, Adrien asked, “And how do I do that?”

“You need to unlock that level in our relationship, of course,” she stated, haughtily raising her head up to look him in the eyes. “And I'm not giving you any hints how.”

“What if I show you my fireplace?” he questioned, setting down his mug to give her his attention.

She blinked. “What?”

“You could... come over?” It came out sounding like a question. “And I don't mean because I, like, want to know all your secrets or anything. I just—I'd like for you to come over? Yeah.”

“You want me... to visit?” Marinette questioned, drawing out the sentence as she furrowed her brow. “Me?”

He tilted his head. “Is that a problem?”

It didn't make sense.

For as long as they'd been dating, everything had been out in public. Adrien had stuck to seeing her in cafés and other areas, never bringing up the topic of coming to visit whether it was in person, over the phone, or through text.

Marinette was taken aback.

She'd thought he was a little weird about his personal space, but she didn't have any room to judge there. It was because of Chloé that she was refusing to let him visit her own place.

She didn't want to move so soon because she either had to break it off or kill him.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I could turn into a stalker.”

Adrien let out an audible breath. “Am I moving too fast or something? I don't know what your pace is but we've been together for three months—”

“I just thought you wouldn't invite me since I never let you come over,” she blurted.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I thought that meant you wanted to take it slow?”

She snorted. “You're the one that took forever to kiss me.”

“I did kiss you,” Adrien said in a hushed voice, leaning closer so he wouldn't have to talk too loudly. “Let's forget my embarrassing moment, okay?”

She hummed. “Sure.”

He wetted his lips. “Does this—does this mean you want to come over? For real?”

“Yes?” she replied, a bit surprised. “You don't need it in writing again or anything, do you? Because it was weird enough that I had to give you consent before—”

“I welcome you into my home, Marinette,” he replied, smiling reaching his eyes as he started to paint again. “Any time. I'm not taking the invitation back.”

“...You're acting a little weird.”

“Only a little?” he asked.

“A lot,” she corrected, setting down her pottery to pick up a bottle and squeeze out more paint. “I need you to know that I'm not against murder. I can take you out if you act any stranger.”

He laughed. “Take me out on a date?”

“I specifically said murder to try and stop you saying that,” she pointed out, accidentally flicking paint and causing it to splatter on the table.

With a smile, Adrien said, “We have so much in common.”

“We're both stupid?” she questioned.

“No, I'm very open to killing you, too,” he replied, dipping his paintbrush into the water to wash it. “Always have to be on guard, right? I can't be giving away too many of my secrets and letting you escape.”

There was nothing threatening about him. “Creepy, dude.”

He smiled at her in the way that was becoming increasingly familiar; paired with the fond look in his eyes, looking all soft and vulnerable. It was complete by him gently nudging her foot under the table, an action that she'd always thought was stupid when anyone had ever tried it in the past.

Then again, she would've thought a date painting pottery was a waste of time, too.

He was the reason that it wasn't.

It could've been all the time taking them to make it into bed that was keeping her interest; her past relationships had always been flings, ended after a week or a month or two, never lasting past that when her attention strayed elsewhere.

There was no point clinging onto a human that couldn't keep her entertained.

Adrien was surely a passing thing, too.

-x-

It felt like a big deal going to visit him.

Adrien had given his address after they had no plans for that day, telling her that she could come over to order takeaway for dinner and lounge around. It was more casual than their other dates; then again, the lowest effort places they went to were cafés.

They'd frequented them enough for Adrien to know her favourite order off by heart and have it waiting for when she arrived.

She was fretting a bit. “Do I look okay?”

Chloé scoffed. “No.”

“What?” Marinette questioned, looking down at her dress. “Is it too much? It's one of my more casual ones—”

“It has a hood,” Chloé said.

She looked up to stare at her. “It's a hoodie dress, yes.”

“It looks terrible,” Chloé proclaimed, looking at it in distaste. “It makes you have no shape. And I bet you're going to wear shorts under that or something to make it even unsexier.”

Marinette pointedly raised her arms up. “It doesn't show my ass when I do this.”

“So?”

“So,” she said, drawing out the word. “I have no reason to wear shorts.”

“It's still terrible,” Chloé replied. “I can't believe I raised you this way.”

“You didn't raise me,” Marinette denied, running her fingers through her hair before pulling it up into a high ponytail. “You found me at eighteen and basically kidnapped me.”

Chloé tutted. “I left a note.”

She laughed. “You left a suicide note for me.”

“You've got bumps,” Chloé said, slapping Marinette's hands away and taking the comb to redo the ponytail.

It was one of the ways that Chloé showed she cared; for all the rude words, it was her actions that showed how she felt. Marinette had been intimidated in the beginning, scared and not understanding what the situation was, but it was Chloé clumsily taking care of her that had made her open up.

“Thanks,” she said, feeling a bit shy. “I don't want to look completely horrible.”

“This guy better be hot,” Chloé replied, pulling her hair tightly and making Marinette wince. “You've been seeing him far too long without showing me. You aren't making him up, are you?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed, offended. “He's nowhere near ready to meet you.”

Chloé snorted. “Has anyone ever been?”

“No,” she replied with a laugh. “That's why I've never intentionally let them.”

“You're so rude, do you know that?” Chloé replied, taking a step back and taking in her handiwork. “I do all this for you and you won't even let me see who you'd rather spend time with over me—”

Taking that as a sign that her hair was acceptable, Marinette happily placed a scrunchie on top of the plain hairband, knowing that Chloé would be pleased she was using her birthday gift from that year. “Don't pretend you don't ditch me to see Adrien every now and then.”

“You're in your rebellious years,” Chloé replied. “I need an escape from being a parent.”

She pulled a face. “There's nothing motherly about you.”

“In vampire terms, I'm your parent,” was Chloé's response.

Marinette huffed. “All right, mommy.”

Chloé kicked her.

“You were asking for it!” she squawked, touching her leg where the pain was blossoming. “If this bruises, I'm telling my boyfriend all about how cruel you are.”

“Good, I hope he tries to fight me.” Chloé's smile showed her teeth. “I haven't killed anyone you're dating for a while.”

“You're not killing him!” she exclaimed.

Chloé frowned. “What if I maim him?”

“No!”

Chloé pouted. “Not even a little?”

Marinette stomped on Chloé's foot in retaliation. “He hasn't done anything wrong!”

Chloé shoved her. “Fine, I'll let you go, but you're coming out with me tomorrow.”

She sighed. “Why?”

Chloé's smile showed her teeth. “I'm hungry.”

She didn't have to ask what that meant.

It was cold outside.

Marinette wrapped up in a scarf instead of trying to fit a coat on over her oversized dress, knowing that the sleeves would be hard to fit in. She was shivering by the time she got to his doorstep, no make-up on and not feeling bad about that in the slightest.

And when Adrien answered the door in equally as casual clothing, she knew that she'd made the right choice.

He smiled widely. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied, shyly returning the smile. “You gonna invite me in or what?”

“Oh, of course,” he replied, opening up the door and giving her a little half-bow. “I humbly invite you in to my home. After you, my lady.”

There was always an awkward moment where she had to get permission to come inside homes, yet it wasn't a problem with him.

Nothing seemed to deter him when it came to her, somehow. Marinette wondered whether her poor luck for all those years was paying off and she was being rewarded somehow. Where else would she find someone so attractive that accepted all of her quirks?

She laughed. “You're such a dork.”

And as he shut the door, he asked, “Can this dork get a kiss?”

She slipped off of shoes without stumbling. “Do you have to ask that?”

“Well, it's always good to get consent,” he mused, taking a step closer to lessen the distance, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.

She tilted her head up, still smiling as she pulled him closer, her arms around his neck as he kissed her gently. It wasn't hesitant any more; Adrien knew what she liked at that point and what to avoid doing in public from fear of embarrassing her when they parted with red faces usually.

That wasn't an issue here.

He deepened it almost immediately as she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging at it gently to coax a pleased noise from him, feeling entirely smug that it was her doing.

It was so much better when they were alone.

-x-

Marinette tried to do her make-up.

It didn't go very well when all that appeared in the mirror were the products that she put on rather than showing her actual face. While the blobs of blush that were standing out looked somewhat even, she didn't know if they were on the right place on her cheeks.

She sighed.

Chloé hadn't come home yet.

She was supposed to be meeting Adrien in half an hour.

Chloé had always helped with her appearance; from haircuts to making sure that she looked nice when her natural reflection wouldn't appear anywhere, the benefits of living together had outweighed the negatives.

It helped that she could do the same for Chloé.

Although she wasn't on par with Chloé's friend Adrien at cutting Chloé's hair, she could be trusted with make-up.

Chloé didn't reply to her texts.

Marinette scrubbed her make-up after the reflection of floating mascara looked clumpy and uneven. It was different when she was actually able to see what she was working on.

Chloé had never warned her about the setbacks of being a vampire.

She pulled her hair into a messy bun, knowing that it would look okay with her bangs down regardless of the lumps and bumps in her hair, and put on comfortable shoes on her way out.

For the past couple of weeks, their plans had consisted entirely of her coming over to his home. Although she hadn't stayed the night, she borrowed one of his shirts to walk around in after they had sex, and she'd become familiar enough to know where he kept his mugs—specifically the ones they'd pained—and how to work the kettle.

He didn't wear glasses around her, though she hadn't found where he kept them.

Adrien couldn't keep his hands to himself when they were alone.

She had no problems with it.

The only strange thing was that he'd asked permission to do everything; from his hand slipping beneath her skirt for the first time to when they'd climbed into bed and he'd reached for a box of condoms.

He was very into consent.

She couldn't fault him for that.

After years, she was quite experienced at hiding her fangs in intimate moments; from pressing her face into his neck to hide it, or changing their position entirely so he couldn't see her mouth, there were many ways to work around it.

The only problem was that Chloé wasn't happy that Marinette was barely ever home.

And as guilty as she felt when she came back past midnight—trying to keep the lie that she had to wake up early to work the next day—the fact that she was stuck inside with Chloé while it was bright out was enough to make up for it.

Chloé couldn't have her forever.

Besides, Chloé excluded her when she went to spend time with her other best friend all of the time. Although he'd apparently been busy lately, that didn't mean that she had to reject Adrien's invitations when they'd finally fallen into bed together.

It was the best part.

They were going to do something more innocent that day, though. Adrien had remarked that there was a film that he wanted to see, so she'd suggested that they go to the cinema for it.

Of course, she'd agreed to go to his after.

He had no complaints to that plan.

Marinette splurged and bought all the snacks while Adrien bought two different slushies for them to share.

He gave her a clumsy thumbs up, almost dropping one of the drinks.

She smiled widely.

And when they sat down with the adverts rolling before the film, she got comfortable with her legs tucked under her, using the armrest to rest her elbow on to prop her head up, forgoing trying to sit normally.

Adrien tapped his shoulder, offering it to her.

She happily took it, moving closer to lean on him.

It was especially sweet when he started to hold her hand.

The only downside was that she wasn't very good with her left hand; reaching over to try and get snacks from his lap ended up with her spilling them, causing him to laugh and his body to shake from where she was resting again him.

She elbowed him lightly.

He laughed more.

At some point, she tilted her head to look at him, taking in his features as the film flashed before them on the screen. There was no irritation in his expression when he looked at her, didn't care that he was distracted from the storyline, instead smiling softly and tilting his head inquisitively to see what was up.

So, she kissed him.

Adrien didn't hesitate to kiss her back, deepening it in the way that was usually reserved for when they were alone.

Marinette had to duck her head and press her forehead against his shoulder to hide her fangs when she got too flustered.

She hadn't been prepared for that.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, an action that had been added recently. Adrien was suddenly kissing her wherever he could; her cheek or forehead when they met, her hand when they were sitting closely, keeping it appropriate when they weren't at his.

As infatuated as she was with him—terribly so, enough for her to run for her phone across the room when he text her—she didn't want to take the chance and invite him over, only resulting in her having to move.

She wasn't going to listen to Chloé.

Chloé was reckless; so many years of living had made her not care about her actions any more. It was Marinette that had to be the smart one—to say that they'd killed too many in the area and couldn't cover up the deaths any more when Chloé didn't want to live in populated cities.

It was easier to cope now than it had been before in a village in the countryside, back after Marinette had first been turned.

Everyone knew within days that the old lady down the street had been murdered violently.

The difference now was that she could slink off to a nightclub and get a bite to eat by getting someone so horribly drunk that they'd be too defenceless to push her away, resulting in her taking enough blood to leave them alive and confused about what had happened in the morning.

Marinette wasn't the dramatic one.

When Adrien said that he was busy for the evening since he was hanging out with friends, Chloé happily agreed to go hunting.

Adrien text to ask how her night was going when she was putting on her heels.

And when she said that she was going out with Chloé, he asked to see a picture of her.

She text a picture of her shoes alone. It looked like no one was wearing them despite them being on her feet.

“I can't believe he's buying that,” Chloé remarked, raising her eyebrows. “I'd get so fucking annoyed if someone refused to send selfies.”

She shrugged. “Maybe he gets me?”

“All there is to get is that you're a disaster,” Chloé mused, pointedly looking at her from head-to-toe. “You look like you're going to fall over after taking, like, two steps.”

“I can take three, at least!” she defended.

“You don't have to dress up like this,” Chloé replied, gesturing her way. “You don't have to cosplay to get into character every time.”

She huffed. “I feel more confident.”

“You can barely walk,” Chloé reminded her.

“That's what gets their guards down,” she proudly said, putting her hands on her hips. “I'm pretty and I look pretty harmless. It's a killer combo, literally.”

Chloé laughed before scowling. “I hate you.”

She pretended to shoot her. “No, you don't.”

“Your jokes are terrible,” Chloé complained, reaching up to touch her hair and check that it was still acceptable. “You're even worse than Adrien!”

She snorted. “If his jokes are like mine, he seems perfectly nice.”

“He's a loser and you're never meeting him,” Chloé retorted, pointing at her own eyes before at Marinette. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, yes, your other best friend is off-limits,” Marinette obediently replied with a roll of her eyes. “I get it, okay? You've never let me meet him. I don't really understand it, but sure.”

“You're two separate parts of my life and we're keeping it that way,” was the response she got.

“Would it be so bad?” she questioned, smoothing out her tight outfit and admiring how it made her figure look in the mirror in the hallway. There was something charming about a floating dress clinging to her body shape despite her being invisible in the reflection. “Between us, we could plan the best birthday parties for you. I mean, who else knows you as well as us?”

“You can't bribe me with gifts.”

She sighed. “It was worth a try.”

“Look, I've had to share everything with him since we were turned,” Chloé started, putting her phone into the tiny bag she intended to keep with her that evening. “Hell, we had to share the same victims because we couldn't cause a scene back then. Do you really want to know what it's like to lick someone else's bite mark?”

“So, bite another area?” she suggested.

Chloé scowled. “That's not the point.”

“It's like I'm your dirty secret,” Marinette said, shoving her phone into Chloé's purse so she wouldn't have to have her own. “I never meet anyone else. Isn't that abuse?”

Chloé's response was quick. “You're too good for them.”

“So, I need to lower your opinion of me?” she questioned.

“You need to give up on them,” Chloé corrected with a pointed look. “Besides, Adrien's the only one I actually like. You're not meeting the others because it's a waste of time. You'll gain nothing out of talking to them.”

She clicked her tongue. “So kind.”

They didn't frequent the same places for meals.

Although she could starve without blood for weeks before feeling negative side-effects, it had only been a week since she'd last eaten. Chloé used to go almost daily since she had no self-control, and the thrill of hunting had always been the main appeal for Chloé.

Marinette wasn't like that.

She'd been shy, before.

It was knowing Chloé that had enabled her to come out of her shell, to be more confident and know that the glances her way weren't a bad thing. The attention her appearance garnered, whether she was dolled up to hunt or not, worked in her favour.

Chloé had always laughed about the ugly vampires that had to try for their kills.

They took a taxi to a club across the city, paying with cash to leave no trail if things were to go bad.

Marinette had been the one to suggest to start doing that.

Chloé listened to her, though it wasn't without an attitude.

When they were inside, Chloé moved in close enough for Marinette to feel her breath against her face as she said, “You tell me if you're leaving.”

Marinette smiled. “Of course.”

Chloé stared. “Don't do anything I wouldn't.”

It was easy after years of practice.

A pretty girl came and bought her a drink, leaning in close, gaze slipping down to Marinette's mouth while they spoke, and Marinette wasn't one to pass up the opportunity when it was clear the woman was somewhat intoxicated.

With a whisper into her ear suggesting that they go somewhere quieter, Marinette was tugging her towards the bathroom with a hold of her hand, laughing as they bumped into people on their way past.

The woman was leaning onto her, almost wheezing from her laughter at one of the jokes Marinette had quipped, when Marinette ended up knocking into someone else, accidentally spilling their drink.

“Oh, sorry,” she started to say, trying to offer them a polite smile.

It disappeared when she saw wide eyes staring back at her, surely mirroring her shocked expression.

Adrien hadn't said where he'd be out with his friends.

Marinette dropped the hand she was holding, terrified.

The woman was still draped over her, an arm around her waist and holding her close, nothing seemingly platonic about their positions.

How was Marinette supposed to say it was just a meal?

She swallowed.

Adrien's expression crumbled, taking a step back and knocking into someone that ducked their head to talk to him—clearly a friend that was concerned.

Marinette couldn't take her eyes off of him as he walked off without confronting her.

It had happened in the past.

Of course, a whole load of things had happened with those she dated before; frustration built up from her lie of working all day everyday, her making up excuses to explain why she wasn't sending any pictures, or why she wouldn't introduce her best friend properly to them.

Marinette kept her life a secret for a reason.

There was a divide between Adrien and the rest of her life.

He was supposed to be a passing fling, someone to have fun with for the time being, someone who'd either break up with her negatively and walk away with his life, or end up as a drained corpse in the end.

He wasn't supposed to be different to everyone else. It didn't matter that he held her like she was something precious and smothered her with kisses, nor that he was the first person since her forgotten parents to kiss her forehead.

And yet, her appetite was suddenly gone as he walked away, crushed.

She felt bad.

It wasn't supposed to end up with him crying because he thought she was cheating on him.

She didn't have her phone on her.

It was still on Chloé, somewhere in the nightclub.

Rudely, she shoved the woman off of her, not caring when she fell over. Marinette ran after him, stumbling in her heels, having to pull down the short skirt of her outfit when it started to ride up from her moving too much.

She was suddenly self-conscious, more embarrassed than she had been all night about her attire. Adrien knew her to be casual, to wear comfortable and cute things instead of anything revealing on their dates, let alone the style of make-up that she had on.

He'd still recognised her despite that.

It didn't take long to find him.

Who he was with was a different matter, however.

Chloé had an arm around Adrien's shoulder, holding him in a lazy one-armed hug. With Chloé's heels, the two of them were the same height.

Adrien was laughing through his tears, smiling at Chloé while they spoke. His others friends that she'd briefly seen were still there, happily talking to Chloé and including her in—

It was such a strange scene.

Marinette stared, bewildered.

The friends went off to the bar, leaving the two of them there, still animatedly talking. Chloé's smile was reaching her eyes, body language screaming that she was comfortable and happy, and all Marinette could think was that that wasn't normal—

Chloé didn't trust new people, let alone anyone that she could consider as her meal for that night.

And although she knew that it wasn't her place to get mad when Chloé didn't know Adrien's name, let alone a description of him more than him being tall with his long-since gone mullet, there was that tell-tale feeling of jealousy from what she considered to be hers being touched.

It was Chloé that noticed her first.

Chloé violently shoved Adrien away, causing him to fall over from surprise, before stomping over her way with a scowl.

Marinette didn't know how to react.

It was made worse when Chloé put her hands onto her shoulders and demanded, “We need to leave now.”

“What?” she shouted over the music.

Chloé started to tug her away.

Marinette resisted, peering to the side to see Adrien doing the same thing, briefly meeting her eyes.

He froze.

“No,” Chloé complained, stubbornly trying to tug her away.

She stayed still. “Why were you with Adrien?”

Chloé glared. “What?”

Marinette pushed off her hand, stumbling towards Adrien instead. The heels were awkward to move in as it was, but when it was paired with the nervous beating of her heart as she thought about what excuse she could come up with, it seemed even worse than normal.

His devastated expression was even worse up front.

She started to say, “Adrien—”

“No,” Chloé interrupted, aggressively coming to stand between them, pushing Marinette away. “We're not doing this. Bye.”

“What the fuck?” she blurted, irritated. “Can you fuck off for, like, two seconds—”

“You're here to hang out with me,” Chloé demanded, turning her head to shoot Adrien a dirty look, one that made him seem like he was scum compared to her. “You'll have to kill me before you two can talk any more.”

Adrien was wide-eyed. “What?”

Instead of trying to reason with her, Marinette kicked Chloé's shin.

“Chloé?” Adrien called, reaching out and placing a hand on Chloé's shoulder. “You okay?”

“Fuck off,” Chloé snapped, hitting his hand away before latching onto Marinette and wrapping an arm around her neck, more of a way to keep her there rather than a hug. “I don't want to see you. Bye.”

Marinette spluttered as Chloé tried to cover her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to stop my worst nightmare from happening,” was Chloé's response as she started to try and tug her away again.

Adrien asked loudly, “Do you—do you know each other?”

Marinette managed to swat Chloé's hand away from her face, only to eloquently reply, “What?”

Chloé spoke first. “You two are not being friends.”

“Friends?” she questioned.

At the same time, Adrien blurted out, “I thought we're more than friends?”

They stared at each other.

Chloé's grip around her neck tightened, choking her.

Marinette patted Chloé's arm in an attempt to get her to stop.

“Die,” Chloé said.

She wheezed.

“Chloé, can you stop trying to kill her?” he requested, shifting awkwardly on the spot. “I know you get territorial of me, but this is—”

“She's mine,” Chloé retorted, trying to pull her away again. “Go back to your friends.”

Marinette ended up with her face covered by Chloé's hand, smudging her make-up and making her look even more frazzled than before. And as she gave up and let it happen, relaxing and letting Chloé do what she wished, she felt more embarrassed than anything else.

She'd wanted to try and clumsily explain herself, not realise how much of an idiot she was.

“No?” Adrien's words came out sounding like a question. “I think you're the one that should leave.”

“That's Adrien?” Marinette questioned, her voice cracking as she pronounced his name.

“He's no one,” Chloé insisted.

“That's the no one I'm dating,” she blurted, gesturing his way. “You know, the one you want me to drain and ditch?”

Chloé's expression turned into one of glee. “The tongue one?”

“The tongue one,” she confirmed.

Adrien butted in with, “I'm right here?”

“We're having a moment,” Chloé retorted, glaring at him. “Fuck off, will you?”

“I think I should talk to him, actually,” Marinette announced, running a hand through her hair and offering her a shaky smile. “I'll meet up with you in a bit, yeah? You've still got my phone.”

Chloé's glare was turned towards her. “Seriously?”

She nodded.

And with Chloé taking a step back, a clear sign that she was giving in and letting it happen, Marinette took Adrien's hand and stumbled towards the exit to go somewhere more private to talk. There wasn't any conversation between them as they went, though the fact he wasn't pulling his hand away was a good sign that he wasn't as upset as earlier, wasn't it?

He'd understand now.

There was a chance that he was there that evening for the same thing.

The cold air felt nice on her skin.

She wobbled into the alley, holding onto the wall for stability.

“Is this why you don't wear heels?” Adrien asked.

“I do wear heels,” she denied.

“Tiny ones,” he pointed out. “Or you wear... platforms? Is that what you're called?”

Marinette nodded. “They give me height and safety.”

“So,” he started, crossing his arms before fidgeting and adjusting them, looking visibly flustered. “You... know Chloé.”

She jumped straight to the point. “You're a vampire.”

He winced. “Yes?”

She pointed to her mouth, parting her lips as her fangs came out.

Adrien stared.

She shifted on the spot. “Surprise?”

“Surprise?” he repeated, bewildered. “But I thought—”

“You should come up with a better excuse than being allergic to gluten only in bread,” she blurted.

Adrien huffed. “You believed it.”

“Yeah, but I'm an idiot,” she replied without hesitation. “What if you went out with someone smart? You would've been doomed within the first date.”

“Well, I don't want to go out with anyone else,” he responded, letting his arms fall down to his side before he shoved them into his pockets. “But you—”

“I wasn't cheating on you!” Marinette interrupted, an almost frantic quality to her voice. “I was just—I was only going to drink from her, okay? She was drunk enough to avoid doing anything else. I may be a murderer, but I have morals.”

“Oh,” he breathed.

She swallowed.

“I didn't realise you're Chloé's Marinette,” Adrien admitted, smile reaching his eyes. “It's not like I could've seen any pictures to know that it's you. But I—she told me about the disaster that you're dating? And I feel really bad now. I didn't realise I was putting you through so much.”

She blinked. “You're not?”

“You were going to break up with me,” he pointed out.

Marinette tilted her head. “No, I wasn't? Chloé doesn't like anyone I date, so that's always her suggestion.”

He didn't look convinced. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, it was hit-or-miss for a while with you kissing me like we're in primary school,” she mused, feeling more relaxed than before. “But we cleared that up real good.”

He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry—”

“What was up with that?” she questioned. “Are you, like, really traditional or something—”

“What? No,” he denied immediately. “Hasn't... has Chloé not told you about this?”

“About what?” she asked. “You need to be a bit clearer.”

“We're old,” he said.

She frowned. “You two are, yes. I'm young and dumb still, thanks.”

“But we're—” Adrien cut himself off, visibly struggling for words as he ran a hand through his hair. “We're kind of... bound to some older rules because of it? You're more evolved.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

His face was red. “I have to ask permission to enter.”

Marinette stared. “Excuse me?”

He stuttered out, “It's—it has to be done. For everything. That's why I kept—kept asking you before we did anything. Like sex.”

“No, you don't?” she denied, caught between feeling incredulous or bursting out into laughter. “You can't actually believe that, right? The only permission we need is to enter homes.”

He was wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”

“Adrien, that's—” Marinette choked out through her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. “Who told you that?”

It came out as a question. “Chloé?”

Her voice was loud form disbelief. “And you believed her?”

His brow furrowed. “But it's true?”

“No, it's not,” she said. “Have you ever actually... tried?”

“Of course I have,” Adrien replied, looking taken aback. “You're not my first girlfriend or anything. Of course I've done stuff before.”

She snorted. “After asking.”

“After getting permission,” he corrected. “Consent is even more important when you're a vampire. I'm not rude like you, young one.”

“First of all, young one?” Marinette said, pointing at herself. “That's so gross. Never call me that again.”

He laughed. “Fine, my bad.”

“You're such an idiot,” she told him, letting out a laugh. “You seriously—you believed Chloé all this time?”

“She's bound by the same rules,” Adrien replied, tilting his head. “Maybe she's too embarrassed to tell you—”

“Adrien, I've made out with her before,” she interrupted. “There is no bullshit rule that she needs permission before entering me in any way.”

He made a choked noise. “Oh.”

“It was when I was just turned,” she explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. “All in the past, of course.”

His voice sounded high-pitched. “I didn't know.”

“Like you've told me all about your flings?” she countered.

“But that's not—that's not Chloé.”

“I didn't know you know her!” she exclaimed. “And you know it's platonic now! I told you all about her without saying her name.”

“Like you told her all about me without my name,” he complained, going as far as to scuff his shoe against the floor. “I've been hearing all about it and laughing! I can't believe this.”

She had to smile at that. “Well, we're both idiots.”

“So stupid,” he agreed, dimples showing on his cheeks. “I mean, what are the chances of Chloé giving me a mullet for our date and your date turning up with one? I should've seen it coming instead of thinking it's a sudden trend that I want nothing to do with.”

With a laugh, she asked, “Chloé gave you that?”

“She saves the good haircuts for you,” he said with a wistful sigh. “I remember the days when I used to be her favourite. But now I kind of get why she favours you if you've kissed her like you kiss me—”

“Oh, gross, don't,” Marinette interrupted, shaking her head. “Those are my dark days, okay? I've left them behind me, along with low-rise jeans. I never want to relive them.”

“...Are you sure she didn't have to ask permission?” he questioned.

“Okay, how about this?” she started, taking a step forwards. “You're not allowed to kiss me with tongue. I'm taking back my invitation.”

He raised his eyebrows.

She waggled hers. “Try it.”

“That's not—”

“I'm telling you, it's a lie,” she said, reaching out to take one of his hands into hers. “She told me I could turn into a bat when I was first turned.”

He snorted. “That's ridiculous.”

“More ridiculous than needing to drink blood to survive?” she pointed out, linking their fingers together. “At that point, I was willing to believe anything. And she let me, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed, making his amusement clear. “But I'm older than you—”

“Yeah, you two are old as shit and dumb as hell,” Marinette interrupted, not breaking eye contact. “Come on, kiss me so you can start plotting your revenge. Personally, I think she deserves a kick or two for that haircut before—”

He winced. “It was really bad, wasn't it?”

“It was,” she agreed. “I think it was on purpose. It looks great on some people.”

Adrien pouted. “I'm not some people.”

“There's someone here still waiting for a kiss,” she said, extending the words out like she was singing as she looked at him with a smile. “Don't you trust me?”

“I mean, I thought you were cheating on me not even half an hour ago,” he mused. “I can't really say what I'm feeling right now. I need a while to think about it.”

“I'll kick you,” she threatened.

He teased, “So violent.”

“I learned from my master,” Marinette proclaimed.

Adrien squinted. “She doesn't make you call her that, does she?”

“No, but it gets on her nerves,” she said with a laugh. “Especially if I talk like a house-elf.”

He laughed. “Oh, she hates them.”

“She hated the thought of us meeting, now look at us,” Marinette said, taking ahold of his shirt and tugging him down until he clumsily bumped their noses together. “I bet she regrets everything, don't you?”

“Do you?” he asked.

“Do I?” she questioned, nudging his nose with hers. “I'm still waiting for that kiss.”

She could see the blond on the end of his eyelashes. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” Marinette replied without hesitation. “And if you do, I'm going to remind you that I'm not above murder. You know that I'm serious now.”

“I'd never regret you,” he murmured, close enough for his breath to touch her skin.

And with that, he kissed her.

Marinette closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck to get comfortable, not having to stand on her toes so much with her heels on. The clumsy way she walked that made her so embarrassed around him wasn't there when they were standing still, and there was no self-consciousness when they were close.

They'd been together long enough for her to get over that.

Although the revelation that he was a vampire was new, kissing him wasn't.

It was familiar, welcome along with all his other touches. His hands placed on her waist were as gentle as the kiss, innocent in every sense of the word despite him having her moaning in his bed the night before.

Adrien grew more comfortable, pulling her closer and adjusting his hands, almost smoothing them down over her backside before they inched up a little, remembering that they were outside. It was outside a nightclub when it was dark out, yet that didn't mean that they could do what they wanted.

It was hesitant when he deepened the kiss.

Marinette returned it with a pleasant hum, able to feel how he'd stiffened in surprise from actually being able to use his tongue. The idea of being rejected—like he couldn't enter a home unless a resident invited him—was hilarious in itself, but when it was applied to something as simple as a kiss, it was endearing how gullible he could be.

She was equally as stupid for buying his gluten excuse.

Maybe they deserved each other for being equally as dumb.

And when they parted, Marinette placed one more chaste kiss to his lips before simply saying, “See.”

“I'm an idiot,” he replied ever-so-quietly, corner of his eyes crinkling from his smile. “I'm sorry.”

“Consent is sexy,” she started, smiling widely and not trying to hide her fangs. “And so are you, so you're safe.”

“Were you planning to eat me?” he blurted.

Marinette laughed. “Were you?”

“Well, maybe?” he replied, a bit bashful. “Is that why you never let me over?”

“I didn't want you meeting Chloé,” she admitted, pulling him into a hug and resting her cheek against his chest. There wasn't much heat coming through his clothing. “Or have you stalking my home. That's always awkward to deal with.”

His shoulder shook with his laughter. “All that to avoid me meeting her?”

“To be fair, you didn't invite me over for ages either,” she pointed out.

“That's fair,” he agreed. “But I did give in first.”

“And asked for permission to literally enter me,” she quipped.

He groaned. “Can you forget that, please?”

“Yeah, no,” she denied, laughing. “I'm never getting over that. Think of how many years Chloé's been laughing at you—and she didn't even tell me about it!”

He muttered, “She's going to be insufferable.”

“When isn't she?” she mused.

“I'd suggest staying over at my place to escape her, but she's got a key,” Adrien said. “Let me change the locks first.”

“She hates being the third wheel,” Marinette reminded him. “She'll never be in the same place with us.”

“She gets far too much joy from embarrassing me to stay away from long,” he reluctantly revealed. “It's one of her only joys in life.”

“Making you miserable?” she asked.

He snorted. “Mocking me.”

She patted his chest. “Well, to be fair, you kind of deserve it.”

“You believed me!” he exclaimed.

“About the allergy or whatever!” she defended, jumping out of his embrace to point a finger his way. “Not the whole invitation thing! It doesn't take a genius to realise that's bullshit.”

He retorted, “I can't handle you bullying me as well!”

It wasn't Marinette that said, “Yeah, fight more!”

Marinette's hand fell down to her side as she whipped her head around, wide-eyed as she saw Chloé peering around the corner of the building.

And when Chloé was caught, rather than being embarrassed and slink away, Chloé straightened up and held up her middle finger.

“Chloé!” Adrien wailed. “Go away!”

“Marinette, I'll step on your phone!” Chloé yelled back, still holding up her hand. “And I know you didn't connect it to anything else, so you'll lose those cat pictures you love staring at!”

“How long have you been standing there?” Marinette questioned, narrowing her eyes.

Chloé scoffed. “Enough to see you two sucking face.”

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “How old are you?”

“Chloé, seriously,” Adrien complained, voice sounding dangerously close to a whine. “Can't you leave us alone for a bit?”

“I did and you two made up, so that went disastrously,” Chloé proclaimed, haughtily pushing her hair over her shoulder. “I'll forgive this blunder if you decide to never see each other again. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no,” Marinette declined, pointedly taking ahold of Adrien's hand. “I already promised to run away into the sunset with him, so...”

Chloé reminded her, “You said no to that.”

She shrugged. “Well, he had a mullet back then.”

“It was pretty bad,” Adrien agreed.

Chloé groaned. “I knew this would happen!”

“I thought you were scared of us being friends, not fucking,” Marinette mused, squeezing his hand gently in reassurance.

He made a disapproving noise. “Do you have to phrase it like that?”

“Adrien always likes what I like,” Chloé said with a sigh. “Of course he'd go after you.”

Marinette beamed. “I am pretty.”

“You're more than pretty,” Adrien assured her, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he agreed, smiling at her softly.

The moment was ruined by Adrien letting out a noise of pain as something hit him in the face.

After it fell to the floor, Marinette realised it was her phone.

“My cat pictures!” she exclaimed, turning it over to see that the screen was shattered and that it was refusing to turn on. Turning her head abruptly to glare at Chloé she proclaimed, “I'll get you back for that.”

Chloé raised her eyebrows.

It didn't even seem smart in her head.

Marinette jumped back up to her feet, clutching onto Adrien's shirt and pulling him into a kiss. He was surprised, stumbling a bit from the sudden pull, before relaxing, one hand coming up to her cheek to cradle her face gently, thumb tracing faint patterns into her skin.

She could feel Adrien's smile as Chloé started to swear at them, demanding them to stop.

They didn't.

The kiss ended when Chloé threw her whole bag at them that time.

#ml writers guild #december event 2020 #xiueryn #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fics #fic rec list #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #mlb #miraculous

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