#mlfluffmonth

[mari-sketches-art]

Day 9- Friends to lovers @miraculousfluffmonth
How Adrien gives praise~ 
Headcanon that Adrien is going to be the type of boyfriend that gushes over anything and everything Marinette does ❤️ Please do not repost/use my art without permission >

[junryou]

ML Fluff Month | Day 05—Dedication

Chat Noir is the epitome of this word. Ladybug is learning to love it. I am just crying in a corner because they’re too precious and I cannot even. @miraculousfluffmonth

REBLOG, DO NOT REPOST

[chimpukampu]

For @miraculousfluffmonth and @auyeahaugust Day 11 prompts First Kiss / Mermaid AU feat. Mer!Marinette and Were!Adrien

Today's my birthday so I kinda resorted to a simple sketch. I might draw some Mer!Marinette later on, as well as Were!Adrien with clothes (｡’▽’｡)

[sak-in-paris]

Day 1 - Roommates

Adrien: Do we absolutely have to watch this? Marinette: Yep Adrien: * regrets life and choices *

@miraculousfluffmonth

Concept: Marinette & Adrien in their mid-twenties as postgrad students move in together. They can never agree on what to watch.

[miraculousfluffmonth]

Miraculous Fluff Month!

ML Fluff Month was so well received last year that it’s up and coming again with all new prompts this year in 2018! Running through the month of August, ML Fluff Month is a month dedicated to creating fluffy content for Miraculous Ladybug. Things have been rough in the fandom lately, and what better way to make things a little better than some good fluff?

How to participate: Create fics, art, edits, gifs, headcanons, anything! Be sure to tag it with #mlfluffmonth and @ the blog @miraculousfluffmonth so we can reblog it!

Any fluffy content you create is welcome. No matter what ship, what character, whatever… you’re encouraged to participate. :D This month is inclusive to any ship, not just the Love Square (although that’s great too!) The main goal is to create non-angsty content, so if you can, please refrain from turning these prompts into something sad! This August is all about fluff and happiness.

No worries if you can’t participate this month. If you still want to use these prompts, you can @ us any time! You can also use some of the prompts for platonic relationships as well, not just romantic.

Have fun and make some cute, fluffy content for the fandom to see!

(If you’re not participating, reblogging the calendar to boost the month is appreciated as well.)

[perrypixel]

Miraculous Fluff Month

@miraculousfluffmonth

♡Day Eighteen: A Special Gift♡

[freedom-shamrock]

BAMF Mari #11 - Chatcall

Also on AO3 #1 Princess Chat   #2 Snack Chat   #3 Scalded Chat    #4 Chat Ice #5 Chat’s Paw    #6 Chat’s Cradle    #7 Chataplexy    #8 Chatatonic #9 Chatalyst   #10 Chat Nap   #11 Chatcall   #12 Chatachresis    #13 Chat’s Pajamas

As day 3 of ML WIP-Completion December, I am finally getting around to Fluff Month Prompt 26: Please.

Adrien : I need your help with something

Marinette : OK.  What do you need?

He slapped one hand to his cheek and screwed his eyes shut, horrified that he was even doing this.

"Whatchya doing, Adrien?" Plagg asked, swooping in from wherever he'd been savoring his morning cheese.

"Nothing." Adrien pulled the phone to his chest to keep the curious kwami from seeing the conversation.

Plagg gave him that look .  The one he'd seen far too often since Marinette had rescued him, er, Chat Noir from an akuma.

"It's none of your business," he added.

"So porn, then?" Plagg suggested. "Phone is really not the best place for that. So many things go wrong with those little bricks of tech. And you really don't want your father to discover all your new… ahem… interests, because someone hacked your account."

"It's not porn," he snapped, feeling his face go hot. He didn't use his phone for that stuff for that very reason, as Plagg well knew. "It's a conversation."

Plagg grinned. "Princess?  I like her."

Adrien had come to realize that he and Plagg both liked her, but for vastly different yet strangely related reasons.

"It's not just any girl who can tame one of my kittens," Plagg said, puffing up his chest. "Even with the mess you are as Adrien, I'm able to counter that. She's got great power." He chuckled, a strangely ominous sound.

"I'm not… that's not… ugh." It had been wholly humiliating to come back to his full senses, draped all over his sweet smelling classmate, with a nice clear memory of everything he'd done while high on catnip.  He probably needed to spite Alya somehow, because her gag gift had been a terrible idea.

"And she deals so well with this side of you, too." Plagg cackled. "I still can't get over you flat out asking her to order you around."

To be honest, neither could he. He'd no idea that side of him existed, and she'd picked it up like it was second nature. And she wasn't cruel or humiliating about it, like he'd seen in some of the things found online.  He was pretty sure those weren't for him. But Marinette, and her firm but gentle… guidance. Yes. That was a much better word. She was helping guide him. That was all.

His phone vibrated.

"Best not to keep your domme waiting," Plagg said. "She may choose to punish you."

"Plagg!  I told you not to call her that." This was all horrifying.  Shoving the kwami away, he looked at his phone.

Marinette: Are you still there?

Adrien : Yeah.  Sorry. It's a little awkward, and I'm still trying to figure out how to ask.

Marinette: Blurt first, clarify second?

He giggled.  That did seem to be her way of getting through awkward situations, and it always seemed to work out for her.  But he couldn't come up with a way to blurt this out without sounding like he was propositioning her or something.

Adrien: I have a shoot later today, and I could really, really use your help.

Marinette: OK. I'm free all day.  What kind of help is this?

Adrien: I need you to come with.

She'd been along to a couple of his photoshoots, and she'd always been professional and unobtrusive.  This wasn't a weird request.

Marinette:  Yes!  I'd love to come to your photoshoot.

Adrien: And I need you to do like you did at school.

There was a long moment where he could see she was texting.  Then nothing. Then texting.

Marinette: The telling you what to do?

Adrien: Yeah.  That. Would you be willing to do that?

Marinette: Won't it seem odd to your crew?

Adrien: It worked OK at school.  Chloe was the only one who noticed.

Adrien: You're really good at it.

Marinette: Really?

Adrien: Really, really.

Honestly, just the idea of her being on set, telling him what to do made him feel better about everything.

Adrien: It's a shoot I'm not real comfortable with.

He kind of wanted to cataclysm his father's office over this, to be totally honest.

Adrien: But I don't have a choice, and I'd like to just get it over with.

Adrien: And I don't want to get yelled at by my father again if I do awful.

Marinette: Are you sure this is the right way to handle this?

Sure.  She had a point.  This probably wasn't a healthy way to deal with it, but since his father wasn't willing to listen to anything he had to say, because his feelings didn't matter, rational methods weren't options.

Adrien: Please, Marinette. Please. Please. Please.

It was stupidly easy for him to use that word over and over with her.  That was probably weird.

Marinette: OK!  I'll do it.  No need to beg!

Adrien: We can agree to disagree on that.

Oh god.  Why did he send that?

30 minute speedwrite

Sorry I forgot to do this when I posted - tagging the following folks by request:  @frostymoon11, @starfirette, @bowser14456, 

[lineartsy]

Miraculous Fluff Month: Late Night ( @miraculousfluffmonth )

“City of stars Are you shining just for me?

(...)

A look in somebody's eyes To light up the skies To open the world and send it reeling A voice that says, I'll be here And you'll be alright

I don't care if I know Just where I will go 'Cause all that I need is this crazy feeling

(...)

City of stars You never shined so brightly.” 

I decided to participate in this Fluff Month, because it was about time I made art about this show~ So hey, here’s some Ladynoir.

I was hearing City of Stars non-stop while I made this art, and I quite think it fits? So hey, here's the link if you wanna hear it~

- Line ( Art Blog / Ko-fi  / Main Blog )

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

@miraculousfluffmonth day 11: First kiss

So as you can see I chose Marichat from this wip post. Who knows, maybe I’ll color other sides as well. What do you think?

If you enjoy what I do, consider buying me a hot chocolate?

[iceicebby77]

Day 6 of @miraculousfluffmonth with the prompt "Baking/cooking"!

[saijspellhart]

ML Fluff Month

<<previous ~ next>>

Read it on AO3

This is a collaborative project between @aknazer, @ao3bronte, @yamina20-blog, @saoirse7ilysi, and myself.

3: Summer Love (Marinette/Chat Noir)

Notes: Dedicated to @perditaalottachocolate-blog, because her lovely drawing of LB painting Chat’s claws helped inspire this oneshot.

0000

It was a late afternoon, mid-summer day and Marinette could safely say that Chat was an unexpected surprise when she climbed out on her balcony to water the plants.

The sweltering temperatures that week had made it uncomfortable even in shorts and a tank top, which is what she was wearing today. But there was Chat Noir, clad head to toe in his usual black leather catsuit, draped over her lounge chair, and looking like a sad roasted fish that someone left out.

His skin looked flushed, breathing slightly labored, and his usually fluffy blonde hair stuck to the edges of his face, matted with sweat. She wasn't sure how long he'd been up on her balcony, or what had driven him out to brave the sweltering heat just to visit her. Nor could she figure out why he hadn't simply dropped into her air conditioned room, just as he would normally do any other time he snuck by to visit—as he put it—his "favorite civilian."

"When did you get here?" She stepped next to him, her body blocking out the sunlight while she held the watering can.

"Ten minutes ago?" He wheezed out. "I don't remember, I felt dizzy upon landing and had to lay down for a moment." His tongue lolled out of his mouth dramatically as he continued to pant like a dog. "Too hot, I don't have the motivation to get up."

She felt a mix of pity and exasperation toward his predicament. "If you're dizzy in this heat, then you're probably dehydrated and should come inside for a drink."

"It's too late for me, Princess," he moaned pathetically from the lounger. "You'd have to carry me."

Had she been Ladybug she might've picked him up and tossed him like a rag doll into her bedroom. But he didn't know she was Ladybug, and without the spots she didn't have the supernatural strength. Maybe if they'd been fourteen, and Chat had still been the skinny little beanpole, should could have picked him up; but Chat wasn't fourteen now and he definitely wasn't a beanpole anymore.

He was more like a professional gymnast, and at a towering 5'11" she could safely say his growth spurts had been kind to him. At least, he towered over her. Turned out her mom's genes had a significant influence on her growth spurts, and she was doomed to a meager 5'2" for the foreseeable future.

"Not a chance, kitty. You'll have to crawl your ass into the bedroom under your own power."

Chat made a pathetic moan and puddled even more into the lounger. "I guess I'll just die then."

Marinette rolled her eyes and tipped the watering can over his head.

The unholy noise Chat Noir released carried over the rooftops, and he scampered off her lounger so fast he was nothing but a void blur. She caught sight of him again near the railing of her balcony crouched beneath a hanging planter of red Zinnias. Eyes wide as saucers, horrified, he stared out at her through drenched locks of blonde hair. Looking so miserable that even his faux cat ears drooped.

"Oops," Marinette giggled, looking impish rather than apologetic, "I spilled the water. Guess I gotta fetch some more." His eyes followed her all the way to the trap door. She paused and held it open, shooting him an expectant look.

Like the indignant feline he was Chat slunk across the balcony to the waiting trap door, shot her and icy glare, then slithered through the opening. Marinette couldn't help but roll her eyes in amusement, and quickly followed him inside.

She found him standing awkwardly in the center of her room—little rivulets of water dripping off his hair, running down his suit, and puddling on the floor—and realized he was attempting not to touch anything because he was soaking wet. Her heart swelled at his thoughtfulness, as he could have just as easily rolled around on her bed out of spite and gotten her blankets all wet.

Sensing that something was amiss with him, she stowed the watering can away in the bathroom for later, and grabbed a towel on her way back. When she tossed the towel, It was clear something was indeed wrong. Normally Chat would have snatched something like that our of the air; rather than remain motionless in the middle of the room while the towel fluttered over his head and settled on his wet hair.

"Chat?"

He remained motionless under the towel.

Marinette padded across the room where she stopped before him and lifted the towel only to join him beneath it. "Kitty, what's wrong?"

"I'm all wet."

Marinette cupped the sides of his face, brushing wet hair away. "And nothing else?"

Chat's chartreuse eyes flickered to meet hers, held for a second, then flickered down again. "Can I hang with you this evening?"

She felt her heart knot itself. "Of course you can," she whispered and gave him a reassuring smile. Reaching to scratch behind one of his real ears she added, "Dry off and we can play some video games, or paint some nails."

"Can we paint some nails?" he asked, looking up, and she caught a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Marinette ruffled the towel around his faux cat ears and giggled. "Yeah, just let me water the plants before I forget."

...

Marinette returned from the watering the plants on her balcony to find Chat toweling his hair off. He was silent, staring thoughtfully at the small collection of magazine clippings she still had pinned to the wall by her computer. They were various pictures of Adrien modeling Gabriel brand clothing, but nothing compared to the embarrassing amount she'd had when she was fourteen.

Chat used to tease her about her crush on Adrien, but over the years he wore himself out and no longer mentioned it.

"All set!" Marinette chirped over—at his shoulder. "I'm gonna grab a drink from downstairs, want me to grab you a bottle of water?"

"Yes please." He turned away from the magazine clippings, and tossed the towel over the back of the chair. "I'm still dying of heat stroke."

"You poor kitten," she teased, poking the bell at his neck before tracing a teasing finger down the front of his suit. She swallowed and had to repress a shudder when her fingers connected with his abs and she pulled her hand away. "...trapped in all this hot leather."

Chat made an exhausted face at the mention of leather, "you wouldn't mind if I stripped off the top of the suit, would you?"

"You can do that?" She was curious now. While they both knew the suit could come unzipped, she wasn't sure how far it could come off.

He nodded.

"If it'll help you cool off," Marinette stepped away, heading for the trap door that lead to the rest of her home. "I don't mind at all."

...

She was so wrong. Never in a million years had she thought she'd need to eat those words around Chat Noir. Chat-freaking-Noir! He was her partner, she wasn't supposed to be ogling him like he was a piece of prime rib, and she was a poor starved hyena.

Years of playing shirtless Sephiroth on Final Fantasy Dissidia failed to prepare her for the masculine display of art seated cross-legged on her chaise longe.

The whole top of his catsuit was stripped down and tied at his waist, and only the cat ears, mask, and gloves remained intact. The catsuit never left much to the imagination, but there was something to be said about seeing those muscles in the flesh... literally. Chugging that bottle of water she fetched for Chat was starting to sound like a preferable option than giving it to him.

It took more effort than she'd like to admit to force herself to stop staring at him and cross the distance between the trap door and the chaise. He didn't appear to notice anything amiss, smiling up at her as if he hadn't been moping oddly ten minutes prior. When she hesitated to take a seat, he patted the cushion in front of him. Chat was more preoccupied with the box of nail polish in his lap, picking through the colors and mouthing out the labels to himself.

"So..." she took a seat across from him, "have you decided what color I'm gonna paint your pecks?"

Chat froze, his hand pausing in the motion of picking up another bottle.

"Nails!" she amended. "What color for your nails—claws, your claws!"

He resumed, moving to pick up a different color. "I was thinking bruised..."

Marinette suppressed a choking noise.

"-orchid," he finished smirking devilishly at her. "Or purrhaps blush red?"

She didn't have to meet his eyes to know he was staring at the fierce crimson color that burned her cheeks. "I don't even have a blush red."

"Oops, my bad." Using both hands he selected two bottles of polish. "How about crimson with onyx polka spots?" This time when he glanced up he meet her eyes, his narrowed cat pupils pinned her with a look that she couldn't quite read. "Just like Ladybug," he purred in a lower timbre.

Marinette could've sworn then and there that he knew, and was pulling some bullshittery. Her heart was pounding so fiercely it could have been the beat for Through the Fire and Flames.

"Still got a thing for Ladybug, Chaton?" She forced her eyes away from his face, fumbled over his naked torso for a moment before fixing them on his gloved hands. She handed him the bottle of water she'd been holding onto since she sat down.

"Can't I just be a fan?" Chat accepted the bottle, popped it open and chugged about half before setting it aside.

She snorted, grabbed his hand and shook the red bottle of polish. "Mhmm~ secretly you're one of those fans."

Chat regarded her with a playfully perplexed expression, then bent his head a sneered, "are you implying I have a waifu pillow?"

"No one said that," she dodged, and adjusted his hand to a better angle.

"Hmmm." He gave her a tight-lipped smile, and watched her begin applying the red polish to his claws.

"Bet it's a step up from your dolls though."

Chat opened his mouth to protest but shut it and huffed out his nose, his faux cat ears actually folded back for emphasis. When Marinette started giggling he narrowed his eyes and looked her over thoughtfully.

He started off with subtle roll of a shoulder, it was enough to cause her giggles to taper off awkwardly. When she switched to paint his other hand, he made a show to stretch and flex his newly released arm.

"You're such a show pony," Marinette muttered, realizing he was playing up the amount of muscle flexing that was necessary, which was probably none at all. And yet she felt her cheeks heating up, and her focus on his claws tightening significantly.

"The best in show," he breathed proudly.

She finished applying the first layer of red polish and dropped his hand. "You conceited cat."

"Two seconds ago you called me a pony." Chat stood up from the chaise to stretch while the nail polish dried.

"You've been demoted for vanity," Marinette snipped, standing up to restore blood flow to her legs.

"What a shame," chat shot her an appropriately disappointed pout, "now you can't ride me."

It was possible Marinette had had a comeback prepared; but as her words spilled out a series of embarrassed and indignant sputtering, it was clear the time for a comeback had passed her by. Finally regaining control, she jabbed a finger back to the chaise, "sit your ass down so I can paint the dots!"

"They aren't dry yet," he said, holding his claws away protectively.

"I don't care," she growled out. "Sit."

Chat did as he was told, blowing on his nails a bit more before giving them over to her.

Marinette sat back down in front of him, keeping her glower fixed on his right hand, and began applying small black polka spots to the layer of red. For awhile they sat in silence. Chat watched as she remained deadly focused on the task.

She couldn't find anything to say to him, and she really didn't want to hear him speak again. He was a stupid cat, that made stupid flirts, and she told herself it shouldn't fluster her, and yet it clearly did.

When something cold touched her wrist, she about leapt in fright. Her eyes fixed on Chat's tail and realized it was the metal-capped tip that had brushed her skin. She'd been so focused on her task, and Chat's embarrassing words, that his tail had moved to rest between them and she hadn't even noticed.

Marinette spared a glance a Chat, and saw his eyes were closed, elbow propped against his knee, and chin propped on the palm of that free hand.

So she continued to apply the polka spots, and tried to ignore his invasive tail.

And yet, ten minutes later, while she was painting the spots on his other hand, she wasn't at all surprised that Chat's tail had migrated to completely coil itself around her wrist. In the past year of their friendship, this strangely intimate gesture had become an increasingly more common occurrence. She opted not to say anything, because every time she did, Chat would get flustered and swear it wasn't him.

On the second to last claw, she adjusted her grip on his hand and felt his tail gently tighten around her wrist.

Marinette blinked, and stole a glance at Chat who appeared to have dozed off against the palm of his other hand. She spared another look at his tail, then trailed her fingers experimentally down his wrist.

This elicited a hum from him, and the grip of his tail tightened in unison.

She dared to continue, applying just a bit more pressure and was surprised when a rumble started up from his chest. It was his gorgeous purr that he usually saved for more vulnerable moments, like when she stroked his hair.

The electrifying urge to press her hand against his bare chest and feel those vibrations skin to skin prickled her like needles.

Before she could stop herself, she'd set the bottle of polish aside and reached out.

His skin was hot against her palm, reminding her of the scorching summer heat up on the balcony. The short gold chest hairs tickled as she splayed her fingers over his heart. His purring felt incredible, rumbling through her fingertips, into her palm and up her arm. It would have been a calming sensation if her body hadn't gotten treacherously caught up in excitement. Instead her heart resumed the suffocating beat from earlier, so much that she could feel the pulse in her ears.

She followed the vibrations over his collarbone to the dip at the base of his throat, the source of the rumbling. It was pleasantly electrifying, a thrum that had her unconsciously leaning closer, her fingers inching farther. Chat's skin was soft, almost delicate like a woman's. He swallowed when her thumb caressed his Adam's apple and suddenly the alluring purr ceased.

A spell lifted.

She glanced away from his neck, and he was staring at her. Piercing chartreuse pinned her with curiosity and... raw desire? Chat lifted his head from his hand never breaking eye contact.

Her curiosity and daring crumbled away like sand under an ocean wave, and Marinette felt herself retreating along with it.

Only to feel Chat's tail tighten around her wrist, and coax her back with subtle tugging. The apology sitting ready on her tongue died with the look in his eyes, and the silent word on his lips.

Chat reached a gloved hand out, and she shuddered when his fingertips ghosted over her cheek. His touch was careful, hesitant; it traced the line of her jaw before threading the hair just behind her ear.

The scent of fresh polish stung her nose, but it never registered.

One last reminder that she was still breathing when Chat tilted his head and leaned in.

[Edited]Tune in tomorrow for the next installment. I’ll be handing you over to Yamina20 who will be heating things up with the Can’t Transform prompt.

[ao3bronte]

Sommeil

<<Previous ~ Next>>

Read it on AO3

A continuation of ML Fluff Month.

Sommeil - Chapter 5 Unexpected Reveal

si on sortait prendre l'air / au lieu d'me prendre pour de la merde / prends-moi la main

Let's set the scene.

There's an empty bottle of Champagne on the desk poised just far enough away that the pooling condensation doesn't bleed into Marinette's acceptance letter to the fast track program at the Institute. She’s one of three to have made it, her men's line a roaring success with the judges panel even after Nicolas’ scene stealing meltdown, and Marinette hasn't stopped glowing since, especially since Chat came by her bedroom earlier that evening with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Brut in one hand and two flutes in the other.

“To fashion!” he announces, giggling like an idiot as they tap their flutes together for the umpteeth time.

Marinette grins, “To fashion!”

Chat takes another sip and leans back against her kitten pillow with a wink, “So does this mean I get the suit jacket now?”

“It’s all yours,” she replies, sliding down onto her belly beside him, “I might need it back though. Mme. Sotnikova said that she might have some clients who are interested in using it in the men’s fashion show in January.”

Chat’s eyes seem to glitter in the lamplight as he takes another gulp, “Yeah? That’s amazing Marinette.”

“I think so too,” she agrees with a blush, peering up at him through her eyelashes. His transformation is back to the way it is normally, his sharp fangs and wild hair seemingly forgotten for now, “I guess I’m going to be a lot busier once January rolls around.”

“And then it’ll be me finding ways to get you to fall asleep,” Chat says with another wink and the suggestive meaning behind his words are not lost on her. Gawking, her face heats up and the saucy quip she’d usually have come up with as Ladybug suddenly dissolves on her tongue.

“Chat got your tongue Purrincesse?” he flirts, and there’s spice in his eyes as he wiggles his eyebrows, his tongue peeking out passed his teeth, “Oh wait, I guess I already did this morning.”

Marinette chokes on her Champagne, “Chat!”

“What?” he blinks those wide kitten eyes of his, that telltale smirk belying his innocence, “I was just telling the truth.”

Marinette tries to gain back her composure by draining her glass all in one go and Chat has to fight to keep from cackling, “I’m sorry, did I break you?”

“Nope, nope nope nope,” Marinette’s head is spinning ever so slightly, the delightful mix of alcohol and flat out nervousness and elation hitting her bloodstream like a concrete truck, “You need to behave.”

“Yeah?” he bends his elbow and props his head up on his palm, glancing down his nose at her with the kind of smouldering look that’s so much more paralysing than it used to be. Shivering, Marinette feels the same foreign feeling from this morning burst into flames low in her belly in a way it never has before, “I’ll be so good for you.”

Marinette reaches out and snatches Chat’s champagne, chugging it in an act of self preservation, “Y-yeah?”

“Oh yes,” he bats his eyelashes and what is going on between her thighs? , “And if I’m not, I’ll let you punish me however you see fit.”

kathunk

When she looks back on this moment, she’ll likely blame the alcohol. She might even blame Chat too, what with the way his pupils seem to dilate, his tongue running across his lips in a way that has her leaning closer, drawn in like a butterfly to a flame. Every inhibition she’s ever had around him has fallen off the tracks and into the neighbouring ravine as his mouth part to speak, his cheeks flushing pink as his free hand gently settles on her hip. It's nerve wracking in the best of ways and even though they’ve slept beside each other and kissed each other before, they’ve never quite done something like this.

“Marinette?”

There’s a question on his tongue, one that speaks of the same nervousness she’s feeling, that same unmistakable tension from the force that’s driving them closer like an elastic band that’s just about to snap, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

Marinette doesn’t bother quelling the whole body shudder that rockets up her spine, “Yes, now kiss me.”

And well, he really doesn’t need much more of an invitation than that.

Diving back in with all of the gusto from earlier that morning, Marinette meets him halfway and it’s nothing like their first kiss where they’d all but slammed foreheads, clacking teeth in earnest. No, this time it’s sloppy and messy and it occurs to her that Chat may be even more anxious than she is, what with the way he keens and warbles restlessly, the purr buzzing up from his chest a counterpoint to the way his hands stutter and stop as they roam. Bravely, Marinette tries to steady her own jittery movements and buries her fingers in his hair, relishing in the way he gasps against her mouth as she tugs, the painful pleasure sending him reeling.

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing,” Chat mutters against her lips after a while, tucking an errant curl of hair behind her ear. She’s already well aware of this, having discussed their singleness repeatedly for months, and she hopes he understands just how much she can relate, murmuring encouragements against the corner of his mouth as she tugs him closer. Relaxing in her arms like the slut for praise that he is, he slots their lips together again and gently brings her lower lip between his teeth before breaking the kiss altogether with a sigh, smiling as she groans in protest. He traces his fingers down the side of her neck as an apology and kisses her softly along the same pale stretch of skin, paying special attention to the constellation of freckles trailing down beneath the shell of her ear.

“Glad I’m not the only one,” Marinette murmurs back, tilting her head to the side as he kisses towards her collarbone, moisture brushing over her skin as he nods.

“It was like I was possessed earlier,” Chat explains and Marinette’s eyes blink a few times to try and regain her senses, her lips popping open with a gasp as his tongue dips into the notch between her collarbones, “I was me but it was...kind of a crazy version of me.”

“Yeah?” she responds breathlessly as she rolls onto her back, her nerve endings utterly overwhelmed as Chat continues to plant soft, deliberate kisses along her exposed skin, “W-what did your kwarmi say about it?”

“He told me I need to chill out before I transform,” he snickers and the shock of hot breath is enough to inspire goosebumps to break out along her décolletage, “I was so furious when Nicolas hurt you—”

“Hush,” Marinette bats him lightly on the forearm and closes her eyes again, luxuriating in the kiss he leaves on her jawline, “I don’t want to think about him while you’re kissing me.”

“So this is…” Chat trails off and Marinette sighs, tipping her chin down to stare at him, “Is it alright if I keep going?”

“Yes Chat,” she assures him, her voice taking on a sort of desperate edge as he breathes against her skin, his green eyes seemingly glowing with the praise, “So stop talking and start kissing. Now.”

A knowing smile stretches across his lips and he chuckles lowly, scooting a little farther back onto the bed, “As you wish.”

~

It’s January and Marinette doesn’t know whether she's coming or going half the time, her world a vibrant ball of insanity and swathes of fabric wrapped in sewing needles and pin cushions. She’s running herself ragged, much to Chat’s chagrin, who's been sleeping like the smitten kitten he is every night in her bed, always fast asleep by the time she finally crawls in after midnight for a snuggle. She calls him the perfect bed warmer and he happily adds that to his job requirements; as the official Keeper of Marinette’s sanity, Chat takes his role very seriously.

“Do you have the dress bags?”

“Check.”

“Extra pins?”

“Packed them last night.”

Chat hands over her purse, “Your brain?”

“That’s debatable,” Marinette smirks and adjusts the strap so it doesn’t dig into her neck, “But I brought a change of clothes so I look somewhat presentable backstage.”

“You’re going to do great Marinette,” Chat announces proudly, wrapping her in another quick hug, “I wish I could be there to watch.”

“I wish you could be there too,” she agrees, ducking her head as he plants a kiss against her temple, “I’m really nervous. I still don’t even know which models will be wearing my designs!”

“That’s because Mme. Sotnikova is taking care of everything,” Chat assures her, leading her over to her trap door as the wintery morning sun peers in through her windows, “Your job is to arrive, deliver the clothing and roll in all the accolades you’ll get after the show!”

Marinette grins as his confidence flows through her, “I hope they love it. This could be my big break, you know? And remember how I told you that one of the models bought my design? Well, they're wearing it tonight and the other two suits are up for sale tonight too, which is like, insane. I can’t believe it!”

“Which design did the model buy again?”

“The suit jacket that you liked,” Marinette grimaces, “I promise I’ll make you another one.”

Chat seems to take it in stride, “It’s all good Purrincess. Just being your model is enough for me. Can you imagine? One day I’ll be able to brag to everyone that I was the suit model for the world famous clothing designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette begins to blush in earnest and bats him on the forearm, “Especially if I don’t leave soon which means that you have to get out of here too. Will I see you tonight?”

“And every night after,” Chat replies, pressing a kiss to her lips before opening the door for her, “For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you,” Marinette beams, hauling her dress bags and backpack full of designing supplies down the stairs, “Be safe today.”

Chat offers her a mock salute and a wink, “Always. See you later!”

~

The suits are delivered and the scene is set. Marinette quickly follows Mme. Sotnikova down to another part of the backstage area and scampers over to where she’s been told to go, sitting down on one of the makeshift stools in the corner that Mme. Sotnikova has claimed for her own. Shadowed by her personal assistant on one side and her business associate on the other, the Russian woman debriefs Marinette quickly, her good mood only evident by the slightest of upticks in her left eyebrow.

“All suits have been suitably tailored yes?”

Marinette nods vigorously, “And twice measured. There shouldn't be any issues.”

“I expect no less,” Mme. Sotnikova taps her perfectly manicured nails twice against her clipboard, “It is future of your career in fashion. You will be remembered for only good or bad reason after today.”

Gnawing on her lower lip, Marinette doesn't know whether she needs to pee or throw up, “I'm confident that everything is perfect.”

“You don't look confident,” Mme. Sotnikova states flatly, her face as blank as ever, “Stand up straight and change clothing. You look like student, I need designer. This is biggest night of your life, act like it.”

“Yes Mme.,” Marinette all but blubbers, her nerves beginning to get the best of her. How was she going to make it through tonight? She knows her products are perfect but what if something goes wrong backstage while she's in the gallery with Mme. Sotnikova? What if a model spills water or a makeup artist drops mascara down the front of the fabric or a quick change assistant rips the lapels—

“I can hear you thinking. Stop,” Mme. Sotnikova raps her pen down on the table in front of her, causing Marinette to flinch, “Change your attitude. You would not be here if your designs were not good enough, yes?”

Marinette desperately tries to swallow the raging nest of butterflies threatening to burst through her stomach and manages to do so, if only barely, “I’ll try.”

“No, you will do,” Mme. Sotnikova counters with an arched brow, “No one will buy from shy designer. You have already sold one suit, I want second and third sold for good price to fund your next project.”

“My next project?”

“Yes,” Mme. Sotnikova’s lip twitches upwards and Marinette takes that as a good sign, “And you will need money from sales for materials. I have two fashion houses interested in collaborating with my students and I have already assigned you.”

“ Two fashion houses ?” Marinette’s jaw drops, “Which two?”

“Zegna and Eidos,” Mme. Sotnikova replies with the slightest of smirks, “It is unusual for woman to make name for herself in men’s fashion but I have seen stranger things.”

“Wow…” Marinette trails off, her eyes rivalling the circumference of saucers, “That’s amazing!”

“Yes, but you won’t sell clothes looking like that. I hope you pack something nice?”

Marinette nods dumbly, still utterly shocked by the fact that two major names in the men’s fashion business were looking into her designs, “I made an outfit specifically for this event.”

“Another thing to sell,” Mme. Sotnikova’s eyes practically gleam with the possibilities, “Change clothing and return. The show will start in one hour.”

“Yes Mme.,” Marinette hops off her stool and snatches her own dress bag from the table beside her, running off towards the bathroom. Her heart is thudding furiously in her chest with nerves and anticipation, her thoughts and pulse an absolute mess in her head. As a little girl, she’d always imagined herself designing dresses and skirts and lacey ensembles...who would have thought she’d be hitting the fashion scene with three custom made floral suits for men?

The source of her inspiration comes to mind.

With a private smile, Marinette disappears into the largest stall and secures her dress bag onto the hook, zipping it open and pulling out the first item on the hanger. It’s a silk camisole she’d picked up at the discount store and tailored herself, stitching a gorgeous line of black lace to accent the sweetheart décolletage. She shucks off her shirt and throws off her bra, slipping the camisole on over her bare skin.

“Brrr,” she shivers, bracing herself at the odd sensation as the silk brushes up against her bare breasts in a way that reminds her of Chat’s curious leather clad fingers after a long patrol outside. He’s the most tactile person she knows, not that she’s been handsy with anyone else mind you, but she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t fantasise about those hands of his on her body at least once a day.

Marinette unclasps her jeans and lets them drop to the floor, gathering them into her waiting hands only to be thrown into the bottom of the dress bag. She fishes out the item on the next hanger and smiles victoriously, especially since she’d managed to hide it from Chat’s prying eyes so it would be a surprise when he'd visit tonight.

If she’s going to be known for menswear, she might as well flaunt it with a gorgeous pair of slim, high-waisted trousers in the same dainty jacquard floral design as her matching slim, stretchy woven blazer with snappy peak lapels. The darting is meticulous, the hemming succinct, the silhouette both feminine and sleek in a way that positively screams power move. She grins as she slips the jacket over her shoulders and leaves the front unbuttoned, tucking the silk camisole into the pants to accentuate her waist.

From the bottom of the bag, Marinette fishes a pair of simple back pumps and pops them onto her feet, packing up the rest of the clothing and walking out and take in her appearance in the mirror. She’s almost ready, but a quick change of hair style will fix that right up as she tugs her ponytails out in favour of a messy bun on the top of her head. With her neck exposed, her fellow designers will be able to see more of the hand sewn detail work of the suit as well as the sneaky, yet vibrantly apparent Marinette sewn into the line of the lapels in the same vibrant pinks that dominate the majority of her custom pantsuit design.

With a swipe of lip gloss and a quick wink to herself in the mirror, Marinette hits a power pose and struts out the door towards Mme. Sotnikova's corner with all the confidence she can muster. She’s one of the top design students at the Institute and she’s at the most important show of her life so far.

That, and she’s Ladybug. With or without her spots, she’s going to rock this show tonight.

~

The lights drop and Marinette shifts impatiently beside Mme. Sotikova, her fingers itching to be of use. She wishes she could be back there with the rest of the design team but she supposes her suits are safe with the Institute’s professionals, and since she’s still just a student, she can’t be back there once the show gets going anyway. She’s not exactly complaining mind you; getting to sit in the gallery is no small honour and Marinette can hardly believe all of her hard work has led her here to this moment.

The music begins to throb from the speakers and Marinette waits on baited breath, eager to see which models will come out first. Thirty different independant companies are being featured in the show and the organisers have partnered up with Paris’ best modelling agency to show off the stunning array of menswear that doesn’t belong to larger, more well known houses. There are many other small time designers here who are just bursting through the glass bubble of obscurity and into the raging world of global recognition and Marinette still can’t believe she’s sharing air with these people. She knows she’s lucky to have had this opportunity through the Institute but damn if she isn’t excited as the first model struts down the runway wearing a plaid ensemble so garish that it screams haute couture.

Twin models Félix and Florent pose with matching sequined coats that light up the gallery like multi coloured disco balls. Isha shows off a houndstooth three piece with a wide brimmed hat and studded loafers. Micah wears a fur coat so fluffy it nearly eclipses his entire body and Oskar totes a romantic silk pussy-bow blouse in the same pink as Marinette’s own stunning ensemble, of which she’s already received a smattering of compliments for already. Mme. Sotikova looked about as impressed as she’s ever seen her and it gave her the burst of confidence she’d needed to shake hands and bump shoulders with various people in the industry as they’d made it into the gallery and sat down.

“Oh!”

The first of her two suits for sale walks onto the runway and Marinette nearly swoons, the crisp pastel green of the breasted jacket practically sinful against Victorien’s ebony skin in the downcast lights. Posing, he cocks his hip just so as he hits the end of the platform and Marinette’s heart flutters to a halt in her chest as he turns around and offers the crowd a steamy smoulder, blowing her away. She’d been proud of that suit but holy hell did it look stunning on him and clearly the crowd around her agrees, taking notes on their notepads or typing furiously on their tablets.

Several more models step onto the stage before her second design makes an appearance and Jin rocks it like the sassy rockstar he is, all legs and swagger and long black hair that make her knees weak. How did they get so many attractive people in one space? And how did they get so attractive in the first place? It reminds her of Adrien in a way, a boy she hasn’t seen in months except for his Instagram posts and Snapchat stories. He made a few posts about being backstage at an event today but he hasn’t geotagged any of them so he’s probably in New York again or Hong Kong or—

Merdemerdemerdemerdemerdemerdemerde!!!

“Is that Adrien Agreste?!”

“Shh!” Mme. Sotikova hushes her as Adrien struts across the stage in her white floral jacquard suit jacket and holy fucking shitshitshit, is that—she can’t even—what in the everloving ASDFGHJKL?!

Marinette alternates between silently screaming and hyperventilating in her seat as Adrien makes his way up the runway, his trademark smirk on his lips literally ripping the air from her lungs. She can hardly think let alone convince her heart to keep functioning as he pauses at the end and finds her in the crowd, his bright green eyes drilling into hers as if he’d known exactly where she would be sitting. Choking, she promptly enters cardiac arrest as he winks at her (AAaaHhHHH!!!) and turns back around, his hips moving with the music in a way that has her thighs throbbing and her head spinning because Adrien Agreste is the one wearing her suit on the runway, which means that Adrien Agreste is the one that bought her suit jacket, which means that Adrien Agreste has something on his perfect body that she made, which means Adrien Agreste will wear it again, which means—

Marinette blacks out for several minutes and even though her body is doing a fantastic job of keeping her upright in her seat, her brain has completely flatlined. She cannot wait to tell everyone she knows about it and the thought alone of telling Chat when she gets home makes her heart soar. He’ll be so proud of her, knowing that her designs are being worn by the city’s most famous model and she hopes she can speak to Adrien too after the show, even if it’s just a quick thank you for purchasing her piece. She knows they went to school together and they were close friends, but he’ll let her take a photo of him for her Instagram right? Would it be uncool to ask? Would he even be allowed to? Then again, he’s here as an independent, not as a representative of Gabriel so maybe…

The show has ended and she’s somehow managed to follow Mme. Sotnikova backstage again. The Russian woman has sent her assistants out to talk to the reps from the interested companies about her suits and Marinette can hardly keep her feet planted on the ground, her entire body floating on cloud nine. The only thing better than this would be defeating Hawkmoth and finally being able to see who her boyfriend is; with no suits and secrets between them, she’d finally be able to stop the kissing and heavy petting and finally ( finally!) lose her V Card to the boy who'd somehow managed to steal her heart away—

“Hi Marinette!”

She spins around and nearly smacks her face into Adrien’s floral printed chest, “Adrien! Hi!”

He chuckles as she stumbles back and he reaches out to steady her, the warmth of his hands seeping through the fabric of her own suit, “Your outfit is gorgeous Marinette. I’d say that I didn’t believe you made this, but after wearing this amazing jacket, I believe you could make anything.”

“Th-thank you,” Marinette practically melts at the compliment, glancing up at him with the kind of gobsmacked expression that reminds her of what she was like as a kid, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” he says, spinning around on the ball of his black and white loafers with a laugh. She smiles and takes in the whole ensemble, the snakeskin pattern on the shoes with tassels shaped like shark’s teeth hanging off the tongue, the silky white trousers with the subtle fleur de lys pattern all along the fabric, the…

...wait a minute...

“Anyway, these trousers have a fleur de lys pattern on them, kind of like an overlay, but it’s so subtle that it won’t distract from this awesome flower pattern on the jacket.”

No

“Oh, and shoes! I picked up these loafers recently, they’re black and white and have these fun little shark teeth tassels at the front.”

Fucking

“They’d be totally unexpected, or I could just go with the plain black ones, or the steel gray…”

Way

Marinette feels the blood drain from her face as she glances back up at him, her jaw unhinging with a clatter to the floor. He’s just smiling that usual smile of his, but those eyes, those bright green infuriating eyes are gleaming with the kind of mischievous bullshit she’s long associated with her asshat of a partner and Marinette doesn’t know whether she wants to punch him in the face or kiss him stupid.

“Someone wants our picture Marinette,” he says with his perfect voice, snapping her out of her borderline murderous reverie, “Come stand beside me.”

She nods dumbly as Adrien wraps his arm around her waist and tucks her in closer to his side. The photographers, and there are a few of them, ask her to smile but she can hardly hear them speak over the voice in her ear as he leans over, his lips scant centimetres from her skin.

“We make the purrfect pair, don’t we?”

Marinette chokes.

Miraculously, they somehow manage to pull off a picture and miraculously, Marinette somehow manages to extricate herself from his grasp long enough to toddle over to the nearest table, Adrien sauntering along in her wake. She's gaping like a fish and he's beaming like a ray of pure stupidsunshine and if Mme. Sotnikova hadn't chosen that exact moment to crash their conversation, Marinette might have just slapped him for being so damn calm about it all.

“M. Agreste,” she greets him, her steel grey eyes appraising him briefly before turning to Marinette, “I have clients for you. Come.”

Marinette turns long enough to nod to her Russian mentor before shifting her focus back to him, the two handsome, blond objects of her affections all rolled into one in all their matchless glory standing before her. How did this happen under her nose? How did she not notice after four years of school and what, twelve thousand pictures of him on her walls? She practically stalked him at one point, memorising his schedule in some pseudo suave attempt to understand the Adrien behind the camera, and what a creep she’d been! And that same boy had been in her bedroom! He’d seen all the crazy photos! He knew how borderline insane she’d been as a teenager! He knew everything and she'd been ignorant to it all!

“Your teacher is waiting for you,” he says with a tip of his head and the move is so horrifyingly catlike that she can practically paint his mask and ears on with her mind’s eye, “You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Marinette finally manages to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth and narrows her eyes just enough to make sure he knows she means business, “You and I are going to have a talk tonight.”

“At least I’m still invited,” he replies, and his smirk dissolves into a look she’s much more familiar with, his eyes finally showing some of the nervousness he must have been hiding underneath, “The usual time?”

“Don’t. Be. Late,” she makes sure to punctuate each and every syllable in a way that makes him shudder in the best of ways. He’s always liked taking orders from her alter-ego; why should this be any different?

Chat Adrien gulps audibly, “God, you’re gorgeous when you’re angry.”

“And you’re just gorgeous in general, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I have every intention of killing you tonight.”

Adrien has the gall to laugh, “Okay one, these trousers are way too tight for that kind of talk and two, Mme. Sotnikova is going to kill you first if you don’t get over there.”

Marinette scowls, “This isn’t over.”

“And thank god for that,” he winks, his smile as impish as the little glance he gives her over her shoulder as he turns away, “À plus, Purrincesse.”

[junryou]

ML Fluff Month | Day 02—Safe

With a relieved squeeze and a couple tears down her chaton's shoulder, Ladybug sniffled, "You're safe..." @miraculousfluffmonth

REBLOG, DO NOT REPOST

[purrincess-chat]

August 2018 Day 6: Cooking, Neighbor AU

A little MariKim brotp for the soul. Some silly fluff. Hopefully you all like this even though it’s short. They are both adults in this one living in their own apartments. 

Read on AO3

Day 6: Cooking/Baking, Neighbor AU

Kim jogged up the hall of his complex toward his door, face shiny with sweat from his run, and he paused outside his door to dig his keys from his pocket. Inserting his key into the lock, he sniffed the air curiously, detecting the scent of cooked meat and spices coming from the apartment next door, and he smiled to himself, pushing open his door and hurrying inside. He ripped off his clothes and hopped into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once he finished, he dried off and got dressed once more before popping back out into the hall and knocking on his neighbor’s door. He listened as dainty footsteps approached the door and unlatched the lock, and Marinette pulled it open, cocking a brow.

“Hey, Kim. What’s up?” She asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Oh, not much just got back from a run,” He said, stretching a little. “What are you up to?”

“I was just making dinner,” She said, pursing her lips.

“Oh, were you cooking? I didn’t know.” He shoved his hands into his pockets with an innocent smirk, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“You’re such a mooch, Kim,” She groaned, moving aside to let him in.

“And yet you always prepare extra food for me,” He said pointedly, stepping inside with a grin.

“You’re lucky I’m nice,” She grumbled, stirring the pan.

“Oh, c’mon. We’ve known each other since we were like 5. You wouldn’t let me starve, would you?” He batted his eyelashes with a pout, and Marinette reached up to flick his nose.

“Mooch,” She teased, grabbing down two place settings.

“I’ll cook for you sometime to make up for it,” He said, helping her set the small table. “You’re my friend, and I don’t want to take advantage of you even if you are an amazing cook.”

“Whatever, you can do the dishes,” She chuckled, retrieving a bottle of wine from the cabinet.

“I suppose that’s fair,” He admitted with a nod before wrapping his arms around her and leaning his head against hers. “Thank you, Marinette.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[miralujoo]

Miraculous Fluff Month 1: Roommates

Yes this is very late because I was busy moving back to my university at the end of July/early August but I promise that this was always on my mind and I was so excited to start. I’ll try to get everything in to catch up, but I might run a little bit into September.

This will be a connected fic! A prompt per chapter.

plot: High school is over, and college is here! New school, new scene, new living space...and yet Marinette is still the same klutzy Marinette. She accidentally signed up for the room next to the one she meant to apply for with Alya...which also happens to be Adrien’s room! 

Facing a situation that can’t be resolved, Marinette must find a way to keep her sanity as she lives with her childhood crush and hide the fact that she’s living with a boy from her parents. All the while, these two superheroes must continue to save Paris while still keeping their identities secret from each other. 

(Concept inspired by the jdrama Good Morning Call! If you like fluffy, feel-good asian dramas, go check it out! It’s on Netflix :) )

pairing: Mostly Adrienette, a little bit of the the other three sides of the love square, and other canon pairings :)

rated: G, of course. It’s fluff month!

@miraculousfluffmonth

“Wait! This has got to be a mistake! I signed up for room 353! With my roommate Alya Cesaire!” Marinette stared at the key in her hand in disbelief, with a plastic tag that clearly displayed the numbers 351.

The resident assistant gave her a slightly irritated look before looking back down at the clipboard the listed all of the names of incoming residents and their new rooms. “Nope. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 351. Alya Cesaire is in 353 with another student, an Alix Kubdel.”

Marinette sank to the floor in shock. She had her first year of college perfectly laid out with her best friend, Alya, as her roommate. They were gonna spend so many nights just hanging out, talking, watching movies, or eating out. Her plans were ruined.

‘No, I have to be positive,’ thought Marinette as she stood back up, her fist up in determination. They could still do everything they wanted, even living separately. After all, they’re neighbors! Doors right next to each other.Heck, they could literally knock on the walls and hear each other. It wasn’t going to be so bad.

“Alright! Who’s my roommate then!” Marinette determinedly looked at the RA, who was slightly taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. She looked back down. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng in 351 with...his name is Adrien Agreste. He won’t be moving in until Thursday, so...you’ve got the dorm by yourself for two days.”

At the sound of her old crush’s name, Marinette’s eyes widened in shock. 

“WHAT!” Marinette yelled, jumping back, garnering the attention of the other tables and new students. The RA in front of her was even more taken aback now.

“W-Wait, first of all, a boy? I-I didn’t know that was allowed!” She stammered, slamming her hands down on the table.

“It’s a concept that has been popular in the United States, so Paris’ public universities have decided to start allowing it this year.”

“C-Can’t I change rooms? There’s gotta be open slots,” Marinette desperately asked, her despair apparent in her wild eyes.

“There are, only two. Would you like to room with Max Kante or Nathaniel Kurtzberg?”

Marinette despaired. What’s the point of changing rooms if she was going to still be with a male? At least she was somewhat friends with Adrien.

“Never mind,” she mumbled, signing the dorming paperwork before taking her key and leaving the residence office.

As she started unpacking and settling into her new (wrong) room, her mind was swamped with worry. How is she going to survive being roommates with someone she used to be in love with? 

Sure, she had given up on her crush two years ago, but it was still such an odd scenario to be caught in. It was almost like some K-drama. Yeah, it was easier to act normal around him after she gave up, but would she be able to still act casual, knowing that he was living less than 20 feet away across the living room in the other room?

And how would she tell her mother and father? They would surely force her to move back home. She didn’t want that; she had been anticipating her new independence for the past year! No, she couldn’t tell them.

Once Marinette finished, she collapsed on her bed from mental exhaustion. She would surely lose her mind before the semester is over.

| next chapter>>

Hello! Fairly new ML writer here! I have written fanfiction for other fandoms but I’m just so emotionally invested into Miraculous Ladybug that I had to take on this month’s challenge. I’ve been notorious for writing fluff-choked fics so I’m so excited to do this. I hope you will follow this story is it steams through fluff month August!

[thewritewolf]

August Fluff Month Chapter 26: Please?

As I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of times, Marichat is my favorite side of the love square. Something about how open they can be with each other without crushes getting in the way is intriguing to me. 

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

“Oh come on, Chat! Please?”

His tail flicked back and forth as he stood cross-armed in the middle of the room, ears splayed against his head, and looking away from Marinette. He grumbled, “I don’t want to.”

“But I need to know how it looks like on a person! A mannequin can only show me so much.”

Marinette was sure that whatever Chat had expected when he had knocked on her trapdoor, it hadn’t been for her to pull him inside and beg him to model for her. At first, he had seemed amused, then panicked. For now, he had settled on petulant.

Hand to her mouth, she thought about what she could possibly offer the feline hero of Paris to get him to reconsider. A growl broke the silence. Wide-eyed, she looked at Chat, who had begun blushing. Smiling, Marinette offered, “If I feed you, will you work with me?”

He opened his mouth to argue, only to have his stomach growl louder and cut him off. After a moment’s consideration, he nodded, “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll lend my well-honed skills to your quest, purrincess.”

“Grooming yourself in the mirror all day doesn’t count as modeling experience, alley cat.” She walked out of the room, closing the door before he could respond.

After a few minutes, she returned with a platter of croissants - surely enough to fill up a hungry superhero, even if he was a teenage boy as well. While he nibbled his way through the pile, she took some quick measurements of Chat Noir. She nodded in satisfaction - the two matched pretty well, so if it fit on him…

Through a mouthful of chocolate croissant, her prospective model asked, “Why does it have to be me again? Didn’t you say you had a model friend?”

Absently, she responded while getting the clothes out. “You mean Adrien? Well, this is a surprise gift for him. I can’t exactly have him model it ahead of time. Plus, you two have really similar body types.” Even with the super suit, this should fit perfectly. Thank the kwamis that the suits are skintight.

Chat must’ve scarfed down a croissant too quickly, since he descended into a coughing fit. After a few minutes and Marinette patting him on the back, he recovered. Red in the face (presumably from the choking), he weakly asked, “That so? What’s the occasion?”

She would never doubt Chat’s courage. However, after watching him immediately reach for another baked good while tears were still running down his face from choking on the last one, she did have reason to doubt his intelligence. Even more so when her response triggered another coughing fit.

“I’m going to give him this and then ask him on a date.”

Watching him chug down the glass of water to help recover, she commented, “Are you going to be good now?”

“I, uh, didn’t know you felt that way about him.” He followed her gaze when she looked at the walls of her room, where most of the available space had been covered by Adrien’s face.

Deadpan, she said, “I guess it never came up.” She picked up a jacket - not too different in form to the one Adrien often wore, but definitely her own in style. “Here, put this on.”

As he did so, he asked, “So… what do you see in model boy besides a pretty face?”

She sat back in her chair, deep in thought. “Well… I’m usually a mess around him, but he’s never made fun of me for it yet. He is incredibly patient and kind - somehow he can even stand Chloe for more than a few minutes at a time. He is just… the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.” Looking at Chat, she could see a small and genuine smile on his face. She grinned. “Plus, have you seen him? I call him hot stuff for a reason.”

Chat’s face flushed beet red, and she shot him a curious look. “You okay there, Chat? Cat got your tongue?” When the pun failed to draw a reaction out of him, she grew worried. “Chat? What’s wrong?”

“I… I have something to tell you, Marinette.”

“Okay…?”

“Claws in.”

It was thirty minutes before Adrien got her to stop screaming - even if the screeching was too high-pitched for him to hear, it probably wasn’t healthy. Then it took him another ten minutes to get her to stop hitting him, and calling him a stupid alley cat. It was after a comment about how they weren’t supposed to reveal their identities to civilians that things clicked.

He hugged her until she calmed down and they spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms.