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rosie-b · 1 year ago

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I Can Hear the Bells (you didn't hear the chimes)

2 chapters, completed (9806 words)

“So, you had a dream about Marinette. Was it a good dream?”

Adrien practically melted. “It was amazing, Plagg,” he said with a wistful sigh. “We were lying on a beach together, and she kissed me and—”

“Ugh, I get it! So, it was a love spell. No real danger, problem solved. Thank cheese.”

“A love spell? Wait, but Plagg, couldn’t that mean that Marinette got affected, too? What if— oh, no,” Adrien gasped. “What if I made her fall in love with me?”

You can read the rest on AO3; chapter one is just below!

Adrien was becoming a rather decent witch.

He wasn’t the best one in the world, but he’d gained a mastery of 23 complex spells and 74 simple ones over the past three months since his eighteenth birthday. That meant he had to be doing well, right?

Even so, the near-constant pressure to study magic he got from Plagg, his familiar and instructor in all things magical, was taking its toll. What Adrien needed, as Plagg had conceded after his pupil had nearly fainted after a simple tea leaves reading, was a solid few days spent off. A break, during which Adrien could relax and recharge by taking advantage of others’ magic abilities, instead of relying on his own.

“What you need,” Plagg had said, lazily floating in front of Adrien with an unbothered expression on his face, “Is a good relaxation spell. And your specialty is destructive magic, so you can’t make one for yourself.”

Adrien had sighed and waved Plagg’s stinky breath away with one hand. “And where would I find one, then? Magic is still new to me, after all; I don’t know any other witches I could ask to give me one.”

“And that’s entirely your parents’ fault,” Plagg had sniffed. “In the old days, no witch worth their salt would have died without leaving a secret book of instructions for their kid. But no, they had to leave the dirty work to your poor, abused familiar!”

The kwami was fond of lamenting in this way to Adrien, who’d gotten used to it by then.

“Plagg, we’ve been over this. Just get to the point, please!”

Plagg had scowled at Adrien for a moment and then given up the act.

“There are plenty of other witches in Paris. The reason that you haven’t met them is because they only go out without being disguised as normal mortals at night, and then only on certain days of the moon cycle. On those nights, they hold a magic fair, a collection of witches’ shops. And we’re in luck, because there’s a fair tonight!”

Adrien had brightened up immediately. “Really? Where is it?”

Plagg had waved one tiny paw dismissively. “If you go out past sundown and keep yourself open to magic, you’ll be able to sense where to find it; it’s easy. Once you get there, pick up a spelled object; it’ll be a toiletry item, a bath bomb or whatever those creative witches are putting their spells into these days. Whatever it is, it’ll probably have lavender in it, like most relaxation spells do.”

“Lavender bath bomb, Paris witch shop, nighttime. Got it. Thanks, Plagg!”

And so, taking his familiar’s advice, Adrien was going to visit a magic fair. He’d taken Plagg with him, although the little kwami had protested that he was losing quality napping time. But for all his protests and prickly personality, Adrien knew that Plagg cared about him deep down.

Adrien left his apartment fifteen minutes after the last rays of sun had disappeared from the sky. As soon as he stepped outside, he felt a tugging sensation in his chest.

“To the left,” he muttered, because that’s where the sensation seemed to be leading him.

“To the left, to the left, to the left,” Plagg repeated in a nasal voice. “Now kick, now kick, now kick—”

“Oh come on, Plagg!” Adrien cried in exasperation.

The kwami only giggled and flew out ahead of Adrien. “You come on,” he smirked.

Adrien rolled his eyes, but stepped forward, slowly following the magic map with only a few wrong turns, eventually ending up at Place des Vosges.

There, lined up around the perimeter of the park, with some shops in the center by the fountain, was a collection of twenty or so little tents made of colorful, embroidered cloth. This is it, the magic seemed to say. This is what you’re looking for.

Around the outside of the park, there was a glowing teal line. Adrien paused before it, deciding whether he should cross it, or if some warning system would be triggered if he did.

“What is that?” he asked Plagg.

Plagg twitched his tail. “It’s a time spell. Once you enter the park, you can spend as long as you need inside, but once you exit, it will be like only a few minutes passed. That way everyone can get their shopping done and still get enough sleep tonight.”

“Oh,” Adrien hummed. “That’s really smart!”

And he stepped over the line into the park, with Plagg just behind him.

Wooden signs outside the tents announced what was sold in each, from charms to potions. There was even a tent selling ‘illusive’ hats, whatever that meant.

“The tents are a temporary thing,” Plagg continued. “They use a different spell, an illusion, to let the witches set them all up before sundown. That way, the boring normal Parisians don’t suspect a thing, and the ancient tradition of— oh camembert! A cheese tent! Adrien, I have to go. I will meet you when you leave the circle! Good luck and goodbye!”

Before Adrien could get in a single question, his familiar was zipping off to a small tent near the edge of the park. Shrugging, he kept walking along, knowing that Plagg would show up eventually—once he’d eaten half the poor cheese seller’s stock, probably.

There were a lot of witches gathered in the park, most of them with a kwami floating nearby. Some of them were even wearing pointed hats, which Adrien thought was rather strange. He’d assumed, after Plagg had suddenly appeared and announced magic’s existence to him on his eighteenth birthday, that pointy hats were just a made-up stereotype, not a fact of witches’ society!

Adrien passed seven tents that didn’t seem to carry the right kind of spelled items before he found a medium-sized red tent that advertised a variety of healing and creative spells. That sounded a lot like what Plagg had described earlier, so he headed inside the tent, whose sign read “Ladybug’s Boutique.”

There was no chime like he’d expect at a normal store as he stepped inside, but he only had a moment to glance around before the handful of people inside the tent fell quiet, staring at him like they’d never seen a blond boy in Paris before.

“Rena, I’ll call you back,” the witch sitting at the tiny checkout desk said, and pressed the earring in her left ear. “Fly, helcome, er, welcome! What brings a person like you here?”

Adrien blinked at the witch, who didn’t have a kwami near her, but was wearing a red hat with black spots on it. She must be Ladybug. Somehow, she looked familiar, but Adrien was positive he’d never met her before.

“Uh, I’m just here to look around, I guess. I wanted to get a bath bomb, but I haven’t found any so far.”

Ladybug’s smile twitched. “I see. Well, luckily for you, I do sell bath bombs—totally normal bath bombs! So normal, like, you wouldn’t believe.” She gestured vaguely to a basket of bath bombs sitting to the left of the desk, half-hidden by a rack of scarves.

Adrien wasn’t sure why normalcy would be a selling point for a witch’s bath bombs. Maybe she just meant they didn’t work any differently from non-magic bath bombs?

Around Adrien, the other witches turned back to what they’d been doing before. The ones who’d brought their kwamis subtly ushered them into purses or pockets — their hiding spots, in other words.

Adrien wondered if the other witches thought he wanted to steal their kwamis. Not that a teacher more open with their information than Plagg wouldn’t be nice, but he had no intention of taking one, and besides, he was somehow growing fond of the stinky cat.

Adrien didn’t say anything, because he didn’t want to be rude. Instead, he kept addressing Ladybug, who seemed like the only one to be okay with his presence, even if she was still a bit jumpy.

“Oh, thanks! I guess I’ll just take a look through them, then,” he said. He walked over to the basket and began sorting through.

Just before he reached the basket, he’d caught a mumbled whisper from one of the guests. Adrien wasn’t positive what it had been, but he was pretty sure it was a spell.

And considering how blank the bath bombs’ wrappers now were, he was pretty sure it had somehow erased the labels from each one of them.

Adrien scowled. Okay, that was just rude!

He shot a frown at the man who’d cast the spell, but there was no sense in starting a fight over it, so he kept sorting through and did his best to guess at what each bath bomb’s spell was. There were a few purple ones, and Plagg had said the spell would be lavender, so it had to be one of those ones.

Eventually, Adrien grabbed a bath bomb that was light purple on top, with a pale white lower half. Most of the bath bombs seemed to be of that kind, which meant that Ladybug made a surplus of relaxing spells on purpose. She probably cared deeply about helping other witches stay relaxed in their crazy lives! That was so nice of her.

Adrien walked over to the desk to check out. It took him all of two steps, and Ladybug was already ready to scan his purchase when he arrived.

She stared at the bath bomb for a moment when Adrien handed it to her.

“This doesn’t have a label,” she said, staring up at him like he’d peeled it off himself.

“None of them do anymore. I’m not really sure why,” Adrien sighed, because he really wasn’t sure why the other witch would be so petty as to ruin all the hard work of whoever had prepared the bath bombs for selling, likely Ladybug herself.

“I see,” Ladybug said, shooting a glare at someone behind Adrien. A chime sounded as whoever it had been stepped out of the tent. “I don’t even know what sp— what type this is anymore. I make so many of these,” she fussed as she lifted the bath bomb and sniffed it. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I know? And it shouldn’t matter anyway, right? But I could be wrong, and if I’m wrong, then! Then!”

Ladybug clutched at her hair, clearly about to fly into a panic.

Adrien smiled reassuringly. “This is the one I want. Don’t worry,” he said, keeping a calming smile on his face. “If you’re wrong, I will only blame myself, I promise.”

“And Claude,” Ladybug muttered under her breath. Then, with a smile, she continued, “I’m so sorry about the mixup. How about you just take it for free as an apology, okay?”

Adrien shook his head. “That’s awfully generous of you, but you don’t need to apologize. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Let me give you something to cover it, at least. How much would it usually cost?”

Ladybug tapped her fingers on the desk, which did not, Adrien noticed, have a cash register on it.

“There’s no label, is there, which means no price, which means you don’t have to pay. I insist,” she said with a blinding smile when Adrien opened his mouth to protest. “Please. Just take it.”

Adrien closed his mouth with a click. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll take it. But then you have to take this,” he said.

And slamming down a ten on the desk, Adrien darted out of the shop before Ladybug could catch on to what he’d done and forcibly give the money back. He’d learned from experience that nice people like her did not take kindly to people paying them when they thought they were owed nothing. But Adrien knew that he had to pay something for the bath bomb, though how much, he had no idea.

He hoped ten euros had been enough. But maybe it was too much?

Oh, well. If it was, then it was just extra payment for the kerfuffle he’d caused. He knew that there had been fewer witches when he left than when he’d entered, and he hated the thought that he could’ve cost her business with his inexperienced, somehow repulsive witch’s air.

“Plagg!” he called when he reached the edge of the park. “Plagg! Over here!”

A few seconds later, a small black cat, noticeably rotund, slowly flew over to Adrien.

“Did you have any luck?” Plagg asked with a burp.

Adrien wrinkled his nose. “Yes, actually, though not in making any witchy friends. Come on, we need to leave, I’m like cyanide to businesses here!”

Plagg frowned as they left the park’s protective circle. “Yeesh, I didn’t think you would be that bad at blending in. You’re all witches,” he said, pondering the matter.

“Yeah, but I guess learning about magic eighteen years later than normal marks me as different somehow. I don’t blame them, it seems like a close-knit community and seeing someone new intrude on it must have been weird. Maybe next time will go smoother.”

“Maybe,” Plagg agreed. “I’ll have plenty of time to whip you into shape by then. We’ve got a whole fortnight,” he informed Adrien.

“That’s good,” Adrien said. “As long as your teaching doesn’t involve any camembert, I think we’ll be ready for a second shot by then.”

__*__*__*__*__

Adrien almost turned the key the wrong way in the lock when he got back to his apartment.

He was still getting used to the place. It was smaller than the suite he’d grown up in at Le Grand Paris, but he didn’t mind. He tried not be resentful of the Bourgeois family—they’d been so kind to take him in after his parents died, after all—but they were very different from him. A little too different, perhaps. He’d already been planning on moving out after his eighteenth birthday; Plagg’s sudden arrival in his life, like some small, smelly godfairy, had just sped things up.

Stepping into the bathroom, Adrien shut the door behind him and stood with his hands on his hips, pondering the empty tub. He’d used plenty of bath bombs before (being Chloe’s only friend and pseudo-brother guaranteed that), but he’d never used a magic one, and the label for this one had been conveniently destroyed. He should have asked Ladybug for the instructions while he could; then again, it had been a strange shopping experience, so he didn’t really blame himself for forgetting to.

But hopefully, he knew someone else who could help.

“Plagg?” Adrien called, knowing he could hear him wherever he was in the small apartment.

“I thought you told me that you weren’t comfortable with me being in the bathroom when the door is shut,” Plagg called back.

Adrien groaned. “I’m not naked, Plagg.”

A moment later, the kwami was hovering in front of Adrien’s face.

“So, what is it? I assume you badly need my help with some very big problem, or you wouldn’t have interrupted my nap.”

“Nope, nothing big, sorry. Do you know how to use a magic bath bomb?” Adrien held it out in front of Plagg, who sniffed it once and shrugged.

“Not my area of expertise, kid. I’m a kwami of destruction, remember?”

“But you know about other kinds of magic, too.”

“Eh, little bits here and there, yeah. This particular object smells like creation magic, which theoretically I know the most about, but bath bombs are new to me. The last time I was a familiar was a few centuries ago, and they weren’t really common then.”

So much for that idea, then.

“Well, do you have any guesses, at least?”

Plagg’s ear twitched. “If it’s like the other spelled objects I know, you just use it like you usually would. But first, activate the spell; that’s something you have to do to get rid of the safety lock most witches put on their spelled objects so that pesky regular humans can’t use them for themselves. This object smells like creation magic, so the right words should be ‘spots on.’ And that’s all there is to it, unless bath bombs are special.”

Adrien pinched his nose. “Really, Plagg? You could have led with that instead of saying you couldn’t help.”

“Well, if that’s how you’re going to react to me graciously choosing to share my illustrious wisdom, see if I help you again,” Plagg said with a sniff.

Adrien reached out and cupped the kwami in his free hand. “Sorry, Plagg. I am grateful for your help, you know. It’s just been a rough night.”

“It’s been a rough three months, more like,” Plagg corrected, letting out a reluctant purr when Adrien scratched behind his ears. A moment later, he flew up and over to the door. “Okay, time for you to take that relaxing bath of yours. I’ll be napping, so don’t call again unless you really need me!”

Adrien smiled. “Bye, Plagg,” he said. The kwami phased through the door, and then he was gone.

So, Adrien plugged the tub’s drain, turned on the hot water, and pulled up a playlist Nino had made for him as a graduation present to listen to while the tub filled and he got undressed.

Adrien hummed along to the songs, thinking of how lucky he was to be part of a friend group that hadn’t fallen apart after they moved on to university. Alya, Nino, Marinette, and he still met up almost every week, and Nino and he even went to the same university, though for very different majors. Adrien was studying to be a pediatric nurse; Nino was a film production major. They would never share a class again.

The tub had filled up enough, so Adrien unwrapped the bath bomb and plopped it in the tub, whispering “spots on” as he did. The bath bomb immediately started fizzling, but that was what they all did. It smelled nice, too, but so did most of them. It really seemed like a normal bath bomb, Adrien mused as he slid himself into the tub.

The rest of the bath was relaxing, but not any more relaxing than other baths Adrien had taken in the past. There wasn’t anything to mark this as a magic occurrence, and he was tempted to conclude that Ladybug’s spell simply hadn’t worked, but he decided to hold off on judgment yet. Maybe the effects took a while to kick in, or maybe they would show themselves in more subtle ways. Maybe Adrien would finally wake up feeling refreshed, instead of still tired and dreading the long day ahead.

Besides, Adrien did feel more relaxed now than he had before the bath. And it was finally the weekend, and Plagg had promised to give him a break from constantly testing him on his magic skills for a few days. That was good enough for him, Adrien thought as he dried off and wrapped a fluffy robe around himself.

__*__*__*__*__

That night, Adrien dreamed of Marinette.

It wasn’t that surprising to him; he’d been dreaming of her ever since eighth grade, when he’d fallen in love with her. But although he’d had hundreds of dreams about her, something about this one was different.

For one thing, Marinette was an adult in it. More of an adult, anyway; she was easily in her mid-twenties (and still just as gorgeous as ever). So was Adrien, and they’d been resting on an island together, lying on the beach without a care in the world. It was the most blissful feeling Adrien had ever experienced; and then Marinette had rolled over and kissed him and it had gotten even better.

“I’m so glad you convinced me to come here, mon amour,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest and looking up at him with eyes as dazzlingly blue as the sea.

Adrien’s heart had been close to bursting, but in the dream he’d still managed to stroke her hair and whisper back that he was glad she’d agreed to come.

“You were right, after all,” Marinette had continued. “This is the perfect place for our honeymoon.”

Adrien could feel his eyes growing wider, but his dream self had gone on like nothing was out of the ordinary. Well, almost.

“Mm-hmm. I told you it would be a dream, milady.”

Marinette had laughed, pushing herself off his chest to hover over him, staring right in his eyes and making Adrien’s heart flutter wildly.

“You and your puns,” she’d laughed. “I hope you’re enjoying this, Adrien.”

“How could I not? You’re finally with me,” he’d purred.

“Now and forever,” she’d agreed, and leaned in for another kiss.

Adrien had woken up in a sweat.

It was still the middle of the night.

“That was so not relaxing,” he’d groaned, and had tossed and turned for the rest of the unrestful night.

At breakfast, he stared at his burnt toast without taking a bite.

Plagg flew in, holding a sock from the bottom of the laundry hamper.

“Hi, Adrien,” he said cheerfully. “Feeling any better?”

Adrien’s eye twitched as he kept staring at the toast.

Plagg cleared his throat. “You have lunch with Nino and the girls at noon, and you asked me to remind you, so I reminded you, and you have to remember now and thank me profusely for my service. A little bonus camembert wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Adrien thought he could make out Marinette’s face in the ridges of the burnt toast, but then his eyes unfocused, and he couldn’t make out anything.

Plagg’s tail twitched. “Hello?”

If Adrien drank twelve cups of coffee, he might feel awake enough to respond.

“Hello?” Plagg was getting impatient. “Adrien, wake up! You’re not supposed to be this relaxed!”

He flew over Adrien’s head and draped the sock he’d been carrying over his hair. Then he dove down to the plate and scarfed the burnt toast down without hesitation.

Finally, Adrien moved.

“Hey, you ate Marinette!” he complained. He crossed his arms, and the sock fell off his head and onto the table.

“Good morning to you, too,” Plagg said. “Listen, Adrien, are you okay? You’re acting weirder than usual.”

Adrien sighed and pushed the chair back from the table. “I don’t think that was a relaxation spell, Plagg,” he said. “If anything, it was a drain-your-energy-overnight-spell. Or maybe it wasn’t magic, at all! Because I do not feel rested, Plagg. And I had a weird dream about Marinette.”

Plagg groaned. “Whatever it was, do not tell me about it. You wax poetic about her around me too much anyways. It’s disgusting! You humans and your lovelorn, sappy sighs and faces. It’s enough to turn me off cheese! Cheddar, anyway. Not camembert. I don’t understand why you won’t just confess to her!”

“You don’t understand, Plagg! We’ve been friends since we were kids. If I confess to her and she doesn’t feel the same way—”

“It could ruin your friendship forever and blah blah blah. I get it,” Plagg said, rubbing his forehead and swishing his tail. “I still think you should tell her. So, the bath bomb didn’t work? Which witch did you buy it from, anyway?”

“I think she was called Ladybug,” Adrien said thoughtfully, staring off in the distance. “She was wearing a polka-dotted hat. I thought those were just in fairy tales.”

“Ladybug? But then why—? Adrien, you activated the spell, right?”

Adrien nodded. “Yep.” He frowned at the spot on his plate where his toast had been, which was currently being occupied by a week-old stinky sock. “Ugh, really?”

Plagg shrugged. “You’re welcome. Anway, did, uh, Ladybug recognize you?”

Adrien tilted his head. “I don’t think so. But nobody there seemed happy to see me. One of the witches in her tent spelled the labels off all the bath bombs.”

“What? Then you made sure to double check which type it was, right?”

“Even Ladybug didn’t know what it was. She sniffed it and said she thought she knew what it was, but maybe she didn’t, and also said it shouldn’t matter, and I told her it’d be my fault if I picked the wrong one to get her to stop worrying. She nearly didn’t let me pay, either,” he huffed.

“What, but why wouldn’t she check first? She could check! What kind of witch is she? I thought Tikki would teach M— would teach her better than this!”

Adrien blinked. “What do you mean, she could check? She tried to check, remember? It’s not her fault,” he sighed, leaning over the table and resting his chin on his hand.

Suddenly, Plagg looked very grim. “Adrien,” he said seriously, which was nearly enough to make Adrien’s heart stop pumping, “You did tell her that you were a witch, right?”

Adrien blinked. “No, why would I? It’s a magic fair, right? The only people there were witches.”

Plagg covered his eyes and wailed. “That’s not a given! People take their families to those shops even if they’re too young to have a familiar! They even take their friends sometimes, boring ones, with no magic at all! And worse, sometimes the illusion spell breaks, and normal humans who aren’t supposed to know about magic wander in, and then the witches have to hide what they’re really doing there! Please tell me, did you at least hear a chime as you walked into Ladybug’s tent?”

Adrien tried to remember. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Plagg looked up at him wearily. “Then she didn’t know you were a witch. Oh, this one’s my fault, kid. I should have warned you, but I couldn’t help it! I can’t resist my gooey camembert!”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “Plagg, what are you saying?”

“There are two easy ways to identify a witch, kid. One of them is their kwami; you saw a lot of witches at the fair with one on their shoulder, didn’t you? The chime would have gone off if I’d been with you, but you were alone. Second way to identify witches; a magic hat. That’s the more secretive option; they hide your true identity from everyone you meet, even other witches. It’s the perfect option for witches who are uncomfortable with anyone knowing who they are, though us kwamis can see right through the illusion. If you’d had a hat last night, you could’ve gone incognito and the chime would have rung for you. But you didn’t have me, and you weren’t wearing a hat, so the chime didn’t ring and Ladybug thought you were just a regular old human who snuck into the fair!”

“She didn’t check what the bath bomb’s spell was because she thought I wouldn’t be able to activate it,” Adrien gasped. “Plagg! This explains so much!”

“I’m going to go hide in a cave for the next thousand years,” Plagg moaned. “I can’t believe it. I’m failing my job as a familiar! Tikki is never going to let me live this down!”

Adrien was too floored by their discovery to ask who Tikki was or what living in a cave would accomplish.

“The other witches thought I was just a regular human, too! And that rude guy, he was just trying to help by hiding the labels with the spells on them! But I didn’t notice and I just stood there and bought the wrong spell, like an idiot!”

Plagg flew to Adrien and grabbed his nightshirt’s lapels with both paws, shaking them furiously as he spoke. “We have to find out what kind of spell you used, Adrien! Do you hear me? This is very dangerous, and while I normally like that, I don’t want you to get hurt!”

Adrien stopped panicking and blinked down at Plagg as a grin spread across his face. “Aww, Plagg! You do care!”

“Of course I care, I chose you to be my witch! I’m supposed to take care of you and make sure you don’t accidentally blow up the world because you don’t understand your magic! And instead I fell victim to the seductive evils of camembert! I’m a failure!”

Adrien laughed. “Don’t worry, Plagg, I’ll forgive you. But first, you have to help me figure out what kind of spell it actually was that I activated. I think it’s related to the dream I had.”

Plagg groaned and flew over to the sock lying on the table. “Not the dream!” He draped the sock around himself and inhaled deeply. “You’re probably right,” he mused after a moment. “So, you had a dream about Marinette. Was it a good dream?”

Adrien practically melted. “It was amazing, Plagg,” he said with a wistful sigh. “We were lying on a beach together, and she kissed me and—”

“Ugh, I get it! So, it was a love spell. No real danger, problem solved. Thank cheese.”

“A love spell? Wait, but Plagg, couldn’t that mean that Marinette got affected, too? What if— oh, no,” Adrien gasped. “What if I made her fall in love with me?”

Plagg snorted. “Unlikely. But you know what, if you want to check, your chance is coming up soon. You have lunch with her in just over an hour.”

Adrien shot up from the table. “What!? But I told you to remind me earlier than this! What if I’m late?”

“I did warn you earlier than this,” Plagg huffed. “But you were busy making googly eyes at a piece of toast. Which you then called Marinette when you yelled at me for eating it, for some reason.”

Adrien’s face flushed red. “Plagg! Just help me get ready on time, will you?”

Plagg sighed. “My troubles never end,” he whined. “This is the last time I sign up to be a familiar.”

(tumblr link for chapter 2)

#rosie-b writing #ml fanfic #love square #ml au #adrien and marinette are witches but neither of them knows the other is #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #some ladrien too

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