Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Tikki warned her about it. Even though she turned eighteen two years ago, it doesn’t guarantee that the suit’s magic will show its full potential that quickly. Maybe it will take some more years until Ladybug isn’t forced to detransform after summoning her Lucky Charm, her kwami said. Which is just great. Perfectly reassuring.

It feels like puberty all over again. Sometimes, her suit graciously cooperates, letting her fight on for half an eternity while the Lucky Charm rests in her hands. Sometimes, her suit is a huge dick, deciding that teamwork isn’t part of its vocabulary and consequently making her earrings beep just a moment after summoning the Lucky Charm. Really, it’s a gamble most of the time.

Luckily enough, Ladybug isn’t the only one struggling with the effects.

As always, Chat Noir’s sneer sends an unpleasant shudder down her spine. He cocks an eyebrow at the black-dotted butter knife in her hand, lazily leaning against his baton. “Aw, bugaboo. Gonna stab me with that knife? I’m quivering like a newborn kitten.”

“I’d rather cut off your tongue,” she hisses, dodging the arrow that is sent her way by his ally. Some stupid villain with a stupid name stupidly glaring at her. The arrow bores into a wall in the distance, gets stuck there, and needs three seconds to detonate.

Lovely.

“And miss all those things my tongue could do to you? Now, now, Ladybug. I’d think this over if I were you.”

She gags. “You’re a pig.”

“I beg to differ. I’m a cat.”

“I have a message from Hawk Moth,” the akumatized villain says robotically, eyes on Chat Noir. “Stop your disgusting flirting, or you’re grounded.”

“Oh, will Hawk Moth lock you in? Because you were being a bad little kitten?” She grins, thoughts feverishly working as she swirls the butter knife between her fingers. Rubble everywhere, remains of exploded cars and buildings – they are on one of the rooftops, and there’s nothing that could possibly warrant the use of a butter knife. In her opinion, that is. But what does she know? Apparently not as much as whatever higher power decided to gift her with a butter knife of all things.

Chat scrunches up his nose. “Who is being a pig now?”

“Oink.” Her eyes scan her surroundings once again. The villain carries a bow and quiver, but that would be a bit on the nose. Also, a butter knife? Maybe –

Her earrings beep.

“Shit,” she mumbles, and backs away. “Shit, shit, shit –”

And the sound wasn’t lost on Chat Noir. A dark grin spreads on his face as he taps his baton against the rooftop, taking a lazy step towards her. “Oink indeed. Little piggie’s gonna try to get away, huh?”

She backs further away. Another pressing beep. Damn it, damn it. She has no choice. Flipping him the bird, she lunges out her yo-yo and leaps from the building. Her earrings beep again, a friendly reminder that she will have a nice, relaxed talk with Tikki about the fact that she, as the Guardian, would absolutely have to be able to trust her suit’s magic, but anyway.

More important matters. Like the arrow that just barely misses her, one of her pigtails caught in the sizzling breeze it leaves behind, and as it lands in a wall next to her, she gets the strong feeling that she is fucked.

Her only choice is a straight swing into the building right in front of her. The window shatters into thousand pieces as she breaks through it. An empty office with way too many tables all around, and behind her, the explosion’s impact makes it impossible to land on her feet. She shrieks as she is flung to the floor, a ringing sound echoing in her ears. Frantically, she tries to get on her feet, being sure that Chat must have –

“There you are, little mouse,” she hears his dark voice. “Don’t play dirty games with this kitten, will you?”

Before she can even turn around, the weight of his body forces her down again face-first. She feels his fingers curl around her neck. But hey, not the first time she’s in a rather uncomfortable position, and not the first time she will get out of this.

Gathering all her strength, she blindly reaches behind her, lucky enough to grab his arm in the process. While he is distracted by that move, she thrusts up her other elbow. She deals a blow to his stomach that makes him gag, the moment of carelessness enough for her to yank his hand away from her neck and flip around. When she lunges out to kick him in the stomach, he is faster though, catching her foot and lunging out, just about to send her flying to the side. She braces herself for the impact of her body meeting the wall – when Chat suddenly freezes mid-motion, looking at something above her.

She follows his eyes on instinct. Plaster crumbles off a beam, and it takes her some time to realize that the whole thing is swaying towards them.

Shit.

She frees her foot, the annoying beep of her earrings reminding her once again that she is in a rather compromising position, and she attempts to crawl away. The beam falls before she can get very far, though. Eyes wide, she waits for the pain that is surely about to follow when she hears Chat’s voice behind her.

“Cataclysm!”

What remains of the beam is no more than dust stinging in her lungs and burning in her eyes. Wheezing wildly, Ladybug scampers further away, and it takes her some time to spot Chat while he is coughing his lungs out. Right, she can relate.

She needs several additional moments to realize that he just saved her.

Well, but he also saved himself, so there’s that.

Not hesitating any moment longer, she finally jumps to her feet. Searching for a door, for anything to hide behind – when something yanks her to the floor once again. This time, she manages to roll on her back until she recognizes Chat’s face above hers. He grabs her wrists before she can punch him in the face, the butter knife still in her cramping fingers.

“A ‘thank you’ would have been furry much appreciated,” he sneers.

“Oh, yeah?” she spits. “Screw you.”

“Who would have thought. An ungrateful brat. Let’s see how –”

He is interrupted by the beeping of his own ring. A grin takes form on her lips.

“Premature detransformation?” she chirps. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Says you,” he growls, claws painfully digging into her wrists as he reaches for her left ear with his other hand. “Enjoy your last moment as Ladybug, bugaboo.”

As if. His position allows her to lift her leg abruptly, and when he is forced to shift, she smashes her knee into his groin. A pained groan escapes him. His grasp on her wrists loosens, and she manages to slide back far enough to free her legs for good. But before she can flee, he has wrapped his arms around her knees, and she releases a scream as he wrenches her to the side, her body uncontrollably tumbling over the floor and crashing right against a wall. The butter knife lands on the carpet. Pain shoots through her limps. She grits her teeth so she doesn’t release another strained sound.

“How many minutes left, huh?” he huffs, stalking closer to her, his shadow falling over her. “Two? One? What will you do without your superpowers, hm?”

She pulls herself together. This won’t be the end. She won’t lose to Chat Noir, to this fucking asshole, just because her suit decided to show her the figurative middle finger. So she stays in her position, lying on the floor, waiting and waiting until he is close enough.

“Already speechless, my lady? Now that is disappointing. No last words?”

Of course he would be careless. Almost seven years of being his enemy taught her what to pay attention to. And he just loves to underestimate her, the moron that he is.

“What a shame. Not even begging for mercy? What kind of last battle –”

She pushes herself away from the wall, and the momentum allows her to kick his feet away from the floor. He stumbles, but eventually falls on his back, and she doesn’t hesitate to crawl up to him. Hot-white anger pulsates through her as she lunges out and punches him in the face so hard her own knuckles hurt from the impact.

“I said, screw you,” she spits, and jumps to her feet.

Only that she can’t.

She guesses she underestimates him just as much.

He held onto her ankles, and when she wants to get away, she instead lands on the floor again. He is above her in a matter of seconds, and he answers her previous blow with a hit of his own, knuckles meeting her cheek with an impact that makes her cough in pain. She tries to get away, and instead manages to catch his fist before he can aim at her another time.

“Just give me your fucking Miraculous,” he hisses.

“Just shut the fuck up,” she spits back.

“Yeah? Or what? You gonna punch me in the face again like the sophisticated brat that you are?”

“You threw me against a goddamn wall, you hypocrite!”

“I would have said sorry if you weren’t such a freaking eyesore.”

“What a gentleman. Get the fuck off me.”

“As if you don’t dream of this every single night, bug.”

“In your dreams, asshat.”

And she forgot about one crucial detail, she guesses. Until the last beep kindly reminds her of it.

Every word gets stuck in her throat. Her panic must show on her face, because a Cheshire grin shows on Chat’s lips. She forgets her last bit of dignity as she squirms underneath him, trying to get away, but his hands grab her wrists, pushing them on the floor with so much strength that she hears her bones crack.

“Don’t,” she begs at last.

“Try again,” he purrs. “I like the sound of your desperation, Ladybug.”

And by then, it’s too late.

She feels the magic slip away. She gasps for air, trying to get away at last, but she can’t. She’s caged in completely, and she resists the urge to scream in wild agony.

This can’t be the end. It can’t be.

It takes her seconds to realize that Chat’s gleeful expression turned into something else entirely, and she slowly starts to understand as green light engulfs him too. For a moment, she can’t even react in any way. She just stares, trying to get her thoughts in order and arriving nowhere. His grip on her loosens, but she can’t move at all, wildly trying to get air into her lungs.

Like she said, not the only one struggling with the effects.

“Close your eyes!” she shrieks in a last attempt to save herself.

“Like hell I will,” he hisses back. “Close your own eyes!”

“I will, if you will.”

“Yeah, and Santa is as real as the Tooth Fairy.”

“Okay, then fuck you!”

“As always, you’re beyond eloquent, Lady-” He is interrupted by the detransformation taking place for good. Green eyes look down at her, and his jaw goes slack, and for a long while, he just stares. And she does the same. Because that face – that man above her – that man who punched her face like some idiot with anger issues –

It can’t be. It can’t be.

That face is familiar.

“Marinette?” he finishes his sentence.

“Adrien?” she breathes, her heart coming to a momentary stop.

His hands still hold her wrists in place. His body still holds hers down. He doesn’t move, and she doesn’t either. Adrien Agreste. Adrien Agreste is –

“I beg you, Adrien,” a high-pitched sound wrenches her from her thoughts. “Please. Please don’t let Hawk Moth know – please! Her whole family is in danger!”

Adrien’s eyes widen. He tears his head around to stare at Tikki. Marinette forces down any emotion threatening to arise, and instead, she thanks the heavens for her muscle memory. Because it doesn’t take more than another well-aimed kick to use his surprise to her advantage, aiming right for his groin. Without the suit absorbing the pain, Adrien wheezes as he falls to the side, and Marinette crawls out from underneath him.

She contemplates taking that ring right from his finger. She sees Plagg beside him, giving her a look that says more than enough. Full of a kind of remorse she can understand too well. But outside, another explosion erupts, and she does the smart thing and flees.

She’s out of breath and sweating like crazy when she arrives at a lower floor, hiding in one of the restrooms. Her head is exploding. Tikki is breathing just as hard, and with shaking fingers, Marinette draws a macaron out of her bag.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispers. “He won’t hesitate one second to tell Hawk Moth who I am. Oh my god, Tikki, I’m … I’m screwed.”

“I’m sorry, Marinette, this – no, there must be a solution, maybe – you are friends with Adrien, aren’t you?”

“Was. If you could even call that being friends.” Marinette rakes her hands through her hair. “He’s Nino’s best friend, and we sometimes hung out, but it has been two years since we graduated. I hardly know him anymore. Oh god, this is … It’s too much, I can’t do this, I can’t …”

“Talk to him?”

“Talk to him?” she repeats shrilly. “Talk to the asshole who once pushed me into a volcano and laughed while he was at it? Talk to the asshole who once broke all my ribs and had the audacity to tell me I’m pathetic? Talk to him? Talk?”

“No,” Tikki replies slowly. “Purify the akuma, and talk to Adrien. Not Chat Noir.”

Right. Right, priorities. Priorities. Marinette tries not to whimper in sheer agony, and instead she transforms.

She gets a butter knife again. This time, she knows what to do – a well-aimed toss at the quiver suffices to tear it right off the villain’s body, and the arrows detonate at once, revealing the akuma’s location. A black butterfly flutters towards the sky. Ladybug doesn’t let her panic show as she purifies the insect, and she doesn’t let herself flinch as she sees Chat Noir leaned against a building not far from her, face blank.

She stares at him. He stares back. She tries to read any thought at all from his face. She can’t. His leathery tail is flickering over the pavement. A cat ready to bounce. Something inside her tenses up until her muscles almost hurt.

“So?” she calls out to him.

His cat ears twitch. He doesn’t answer.

“At least give me a fair warning, Chat,” she adds, blood beginning to boil.

“You won’t need one.”

If he means what she thinks he means – or rather, what she hopes he means –

He stalks closer. She coerces herself not to move a millimeter. If it wasn’t for the new information presented to her, she would have huffed and left him be. As it stands, she watches him until he comes to a halt before her. Something touches her lower leg, and she jumps after all, eyes darting down for a moment to watch his cat tail wrap around her calf.

“After all,” he says lowly, darkly, “seeing you that desperate really had some appeal.”

She feels her expression harden. She doesn’t react to the way his tail wanders higher, brushing her thighs.

“I know who you are too, you know,” she hisses.

His face remains unreadable. “Tit for tat, the saying goes, doesn’t it?”

“What’s the tit, what’s the tat?”

He rolls his tongue behind his teeth. Glances down at her chest. “I know a thing or two about the first part, at least.”

That’s enough. She frees himself from his wandering tail by stepping back. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you love it.”

“Like hell I do.”

“Can’t hide that fire in your eyes, love bug.”

“Screw you,” she spits, and sharply turns away. Swings into the growing night. Feels his eyes on her all the while, and fire blazes in her stomach, making her shudder with a kind of fear she has never felt before.

She comes home sweaty, exhausted, and desperate for a hot shower to get this day over and done with. What she didn’t expect was Alya in the living room, curled up underneath a blanket as she stares at the TV.

“Hey,” Marinette calls out to her. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow? You’re still up?”

“Shush.” Alya waves her off. “I need to hear that love confession.”

Marinette doesn’t recognize the series, so she just makes a face as she passes by the couch. “Hope it’s a good one.”

“Enemies to lovers. Best trope there is.”

Marinette gags. Then she remembers who her very own enemy is, and her stomach churns. “Have fun,” she says. “I’m going to take a long nice shower.”

“Have fun too,” Alya returns. Pauses the stream to look at Marinette. “Don’t forget that we wanted to go out tomorrow. We’ve got to celebrate the exam I’ll definitely fail because a series sucked me in once again.”

“We wanted to go out,” Marinette repeats carefully.

“Who would have guessed. You already forgot. Yes, go out. You know, that fun activity where your primary goal is to get drunk and slash or get some?”

“Right. I remember. With Nino and …”

She tries not to choke.

“And Adrien,” Alya finishes for her. Squints at Marinette. “I know that look. Don’t get all ‘I have stuff to do’ on me. Because you don’t.”

“Alya –”

“Shouldn’t have told me you got your last assignment done yesterday. Nope, no excuses. Come on, some eye candy will do you some good!”

“Don’t refer to Adrien as eye candy,” Marinette mumbles. “Please?”

“It’s an objective truth. And I didn’t hear you complain before.”

“Well, you’re hearing me complain now.”

“Right. Dismissed.” Alya turns back to the TV and pushes the pause button again. “Looking forward to tomorrow, bestie!”

Marinette massages the bridge of her nose. Tries not to panic as she thinks about seeing Adrien. No way he would do anything questionable while Nino and Alya are next to them, right? No way he would try to steal her earrings either, right? Of course not. He isn’t that dumb, she guesses.

She gets into the shower, hot water washing away the sheer craziness of this day. And the thought just won’t get into her head. Adrien Agreste. It could have been anyone – but not him, for god’s sake. She somehow expects her phone to start buzzing any moment now. Expects his name to show up on the display, expects him to greet her over the phone as if nothing ever happened.

Or text her something infuriatingly innocent.

Or turn up tomorrow and send her the same grin Chat likes to show, so irritating that she’d like nothing more than to punch him right in the face.

Or get her alone for an unseen moment, stalking her like a cat would stalk its prey, constantly keeping her on her toes.

Or –

Fucking hell, he is playing with her.

Tit for tat, huh? Rather ‘you are at my mercy, and I will let you know as much’. Fuck that. Fuck him. Anger shoots through her veins as she gets out of her shower, and she searches his number from her contact list, typing so wildly that her thumbs almost glide from the display.

[Marinette]: Hi Adrien! Looking forward to tomorrow! You’ll be there right? Long time no see, so much catching up to do!

“That’s,” Tikki whispers next to her ear, “not the kind of talking I meant.”

“That’s the kind of talking he’ll get from me, though,” she hisses back.

It doesn’t take long until she gets a text back. Or rather a voice message. Asshole. Thinking he’s one step ahead, huh? As if. She presses the phone against her ear as she listens to it.

“Hi, Marinette! So good to hear from you. Of course, can’t wait for tomorrow. Nino chose one of the best clubs in Paris. A lot of catching up to do for sure. Can’t wait to get my paws on all your new projects. Oh … And also, I like your new profile pic. You should wear those jeans more often. Really, you’ve got some great … assets.”

She grits her teeth. The teasing undertone isn’t lost on her. God damn it, she wants normal Adrien back. He can’t be the same asshole Chat Noir is.

He can’t be Chat Noir.

Her fingers cramp around her phone. She doesn’t text him back.

If Marinette is one thing, then not a victim to Chat’s whims. She never was. The first time he turned up, when she was thirteen and only just finding into her new role as a superhero, he seemed just as clueless as her.

He told her he wanted her Miraculous.

She politely told him she wouldn’t hand it over to him.

He asked again, more firmly that time.

She politely told him to get lost.

The back and forth continued. At sixteen, she thought that maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. Even though he had broken her wrist once, and she had broken his jaw in return. Nothing her magical ladybugs couldn’t fix, though. She guesses it was an accident on his part, because he even apologized, and the remorse in his eyes seemed genuine. Two days later, he broke her ankle, but that’s beside the point.

His moments of vulnerability popped up far and few between, but they existed.

Still, as Ladybug, she learned not to be forgiving. Not when it came to Chat. After she tried to get him to her side, that is. Because even though she did her best, telling him that she would forgive him for being on the wrong side, asking him for an explanation, asking if she could help him, anything, anything, for god’s sake –

He didn’t listen. He never did.

So they continued to dance in circles. His comments didn’t start getting under her skin until they got older, until his looks started to linger on places she wanted to slap him for. She did slap him. So often that he started to anticipate her moves and managed to dodge every new attack successfully until she was fuming. Albeit she would never admit that sometimes, her eyes wandered to places they shouldn’t even as much as brush too.

Damn skin-tight suits, she guesses.

So what if he is Adrien? Polite, nice Adrien. What a great façade. Just perfect. She won’t be a victim to Adrien’s whims either. So she chooses the tightest jeans she finds in her closet, combines them with a cute pink top, and spends half an hour on her makeup. Tikki watches her all the while, her eyes full of worry.

“What is your plan?” she asks.

“Showing him that he has no power over me,” Marinette returns, finishing her lipstick. “I sure as hell won’t give him the satisfaction of toying with me.”

“Marinette, that is nice, but …”

“How are you feeling? After seeing Plagg again?”

Tikki’s antennas droop. She casts her eyes down. “We didn’t have time to talk. But believe me when I say that it’s not what he wants. He might be a good-for-nothing, but he would never work with Hawk Moth willingly.”

“I know. We’ll find a way to get him out of there, okay?”

And she means it. They will.

Alya whistles when she sees Marinette come out of her room. “Damn, girl,” she says as she watches Marinette do a little twirl. “Whose poor guy’s heart do you want to break tonight?”

“Oh, I have some idea,” Marinette answers.

She isn’t getting nervous as they step out of their apartment. She isn’t getting nervous as they get closer and closer to the club. She absolutely isn’t getting nervous, and Alya sends her an amused look when they are halfway there.

“You weren’t that nervous when we met Adrien a month ago.”

“I’m absolutely, definitely not nervous,” Marinette claims.

“Absolutely, definitely, totally.”

“Yes.”

“Well, bestie, can’t blame you. I mean, you did have a crush on him once.”

Marinette groans at the memory. “I was fourteen, and he was nice to me once. Once! That’s just the magic of teenage crushes. They don’t make any sense.”

“I think he told Nino once he would like to be friends with you.”

Marinette almost laughs tiredly. “And he was too shy to befriend me?” she drawls.

“Too occupied with his girlfriend back then, I guess.” Alya shrugs. “Anyway, look, it wouldn’t be a teenage crush now.”

“Alya. Listen.” Marinette gesticulates wildly while she talks. “If there is one person I would never, ever, ever be able to be with, ever, and for extra emphasis I will repeat – ever, then it’s –”

“Hi, Adrien!” Alya chirps.

Marinette freezes on the spot. Stumbles over her own feet after all. A sudden warm hand on her shoulder keeps her from falling, and when she sharply looks up, she catches sight of green eyes and a sly grin.

“Careful, Marinette,” Adrien tells her lowly. “We don’t want you to trip and fall into my arms right away, do we?”

She stares. Yanks her arm away from his grasp. “No,” she returns drily. “We certainly don’t want that.”

Alya gives them a strange look, and Marinette realizes that she might have to get her shit together. So she plasters on her best smile and pats Adrien’s shoulder after all.

“I mean, so nice! To see you! You look,” she suppresses a gag, “well. Acceptable.”

His eyes sparkle. “Thank you very much, Marinette.”

She hates the way her name rolls over his tongue, all lasciviously and smoothly, and she retracts her hand again. Her poisonous staring is only interrupted by Nino approaching her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “So good to see you again, dudette!”

“Not like you visited us just last week,” Marinette laughs as she pats his back. “How are you?”

“Pretty great. Y’know, being here with my acceptable-looking bro and all that.”

Marinette tries not to blush as she moves away again. She also tries not to even as much as glance at Adrien. She kind of fails at both, and the grin Adrien sends her makes her blood boil.

This is going to be a long night.

Marinette slurps her cocktail aggressively. Adrien is picture-perfect. No wonder she crushed on him like any teenager would. His smiles are pleasant, and there is something naturally alluring to his whole being. His hair seems soft to the touch, his eyes are an interesting green, his jaw looks like it was sculptured by an artist, his lips look so damn kissable – punchable. So damn punchable that she wants to scream.

And whenever his eyes brush hers, something sparkles in them. Something that makes her press her knees against each other. Something that sends her mind in a frenzy. Something that makes her want to strangle him.

Nino and Alya are talking about their summer plans, and Adrien throws in the occasional comment. She keeps slurping as she watches him. Every single one of his movements. Until he raises an eyebrow at her, and she raises an eyebrow back, and he whispers something to the other two before he gets up from his seat and disappears in the crowd. She looks after him, never letting go of her straw.

“Woah, bestie,” Alya giggles. “If you wanna stare at his ass any more noticeably, just take a photo.”

Marinette almost spits out her cocktail. “I hate his ass!”

“Sure,” Alya drawls.

“You were kinda staring all night.” Nino wiggles his brows. “Want me to drop a hint here and there?”

“Please don’t,” Marinette grits out.

Their conversation dies down when Adrien comes back to the table. A beer for himself, and he has the audacity to sit down right next to her, sliding a cocktail in her direction. Alya and Nino look at each other, and then they shift in their seats, obviously trying to give them some privacy.

Marinette glares at the cocktail. Then at Adrien. He is too close. He smells of some tacky rich people perfume, and his skin is so perfect she wants to painfully dig her nails into his cheeks.

“See, watching you suck on that straw was a great sight, not going to lie,” he purrs, coming too close for comfort, “but your cocktail is empty.”

She stops slurping. Bites the straw instead. So hard that it bends on its own.

“Though I’d have something else you could –”

“Shut the hell up, you gross bastard,” she spits. “I’m not stupid enough to have you bring me a cocktail and drink it without a question.”

He smiles lazily at her. “Dropped your façade quickly, didn’t you?”

“Façade?” she repeats, scrunching up her nose. “Who is putting up an act here, Mister Toothpaste Commercial?”

“You could just tell me you think I have a great smile.”

“Your smile is gross.”

“Kindergarten insults. My favorite.”

“Yeah. Your intellect must have rubbed off on me.”

“Well, Marinette,” he sighs, pulling the cocktail back to him, “then let me prove my trustworthiness to you, will you?”

He takes the straw between his lips, never letting go of her eyes, and then he sucks. Tongue eventually darting out to catch any potential drop that wants to escape him. She watches the movements, and when she notices she is staring at his lips, her eyes snap up again. Asshole, she reminds herself. Asshole right in front of you. Remember that, god damn it!

“There.” He props his chin on his hand. “No fainting, no blacking out. Are you happy?”

“No,” she grumbles. “Now I can’t drink this. Your disgusting lips touched that straw.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

“Don’t be so condescending.”

“Condescending?” he repeats. Leans closer. She wants to back away, but when she feels a hand on her knee, she freezes. Adrien seems to watch her reaction as he squeezes lightly, his expression a perfect picture of innocence. “Me? Never. I’m just very glad you’re here, Marinette.”

God, does she hate how he says her name. All heady and thick with something she doesn’t dare analyze further. She hates how he is caging her in, trapping her beneath his paws. She hates how he is chasing her from left to right, never quite letting her catch a breath. She hates that he thinks he could play her like a fiddle.

She won’t have any of this.

She snatches the bottle of beer away from underneath his nose, jumps from her seat, and walks away.

She knows Chat. Being his enemy taught her more than enough. She knows that playing games is part of him. She knows that he loves to stalk through shadows, lying low and making her hair stand on end. The one thing she’d never admit is that she understands the thrill of the chase. That the beating of her heart and the adrenaline surging through her are exhilarating in their own right.

When she moves to the edge of the dancefloor, she glances back to their table. Adrien isn’t sitting there anymore.

Of course he isn’t.

So she starts their little dance. The music doesn’t matter. The people around them don’t matter either. Her eyes scan faces for familiarity. For green eyes flashing among surreal shadows. She could be the mouse trapped in his infuriating game, or she could be the one pulling the strings all along.

She brings the bottle of beer to her lips, licks the mouth more thoroughly than necessary, and takes a sip.

At least he doesn’t have bad taste in beverages, she guesses.

The music is too loud, the bass vibrates in her bones. Her mind begins to feel hazy. Some pairs of eyes follow her, but they don’t interest her. She’s waiting for the moment a shadow will separate from the crowd. The moment he will get ready for attack, and her whole body tenses at the thought. Anticipating, waiting. Breaths shallow, heart fluttering. Every step another part of their absurd routine.

He stays unseen.

The challenge is clear as day. She can almost hear his whisper flowing over her skin. Now, little bug. Afraid, are you?

She isn’t.

She passes by the mass of people dancing to loud music, and she slips out of the main hall, landing in one of the hallways. It’s quieter here, lonelier, and shadows spread over dark walls. She feels watched. Every step she takes becomes more careful. When she looks behind her shoulder, she thinks she can see something dart through darkness. Her heart thumps. Her fingers cramp around the bottle. She –

A scream gets stuck in her throat when she is grabbed by the shoulders, when she is whirled around to a quiet corner underneath a set of stairs. Her back meets the wall. Fingers curl around hers, and she sees the smirk on Adrien’s face as he lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a sip. So sure of victory when the game hasn’t even begun yet.

“What do we have here? A cute thief?” His hand above hers makes it impossible to retract her fingers from the bottle. “If you wanted a beer, you should have just told me.”

“Finders, keepers.”

His smirk widens. “And look what I found. A lost lamb.”

A hot shiver travels down her spine. She is trapped between him and the wall, his body so close she can smell his cologne.

“Isn’t it getting tiring?” she says. “Playing the nice rich boy in front of the other two?”

He cocks an eyebrow. Moves a bit closer. Their knees touch. Marinette jumps, but she can’t escape.

“Isn’t it getting tiring?” he returns. “Pretending you can’t stand me when you’re panting like a cat in heat right now?”

Anger explodes in her stomach. She yanks her hand free, the sudden movement almost making him spill his beer. Lifts her chin, not letting go of his eyes. Not backing down. Like hell she will back down.

“You are revolting,” she hisses. “Don’t think you can toy with me, Agreste.”

He puts a hand next to her head, leaning closer to her. She doesn’t shy away. Meets the intensity in his green eyes head-on. His words brush her skin as he speaks.

“You think I can’t? You think you could have the upper hand here?”

Her body is strung to the breaking point. She tries to keep her breathing even. “I don’t think so. I do have the upper hand.”

“Do you?” he mumbles. His hand reaches up, and before he can touch her earlobe, she swats his fingers away. He grins. “I don’t know. Who again fears for their family? You or me?”

All blood leaves her cheeks. Her face falls for the tiniest of seconds, but before she can put it back in place, he has already noticed what is going on inside her head. His thumb grazes her chin. She shudders from head to toe.

“That’s right, little bug,” he breathes. Leads his thumb to her lower lip. She wants to break away, but her thoughts are racing and her body is rigid, and she inhales sharply when he touches her lip, lightly tracing its shape. “Don’t you worry. Your secret is safe with me. For now. Watching you squirm like that has its appeal, after all.”

“Why? Why aren’t you telling him?” She hates how weak her voice sounds. How she can’t bring herself to break away.

“Oh. You want me to?”

“No, of course I don’t. It’s –”

“Then beg.”

A choked laugh escapes her lips. “Are you serious?”

He doesn’t mirror her disbelieving amusement. “Do I look like I’m not? Beg.”

She stares at him. At how he looks at her. At his complacent grin. At his heady eyes. She starts to understand this game, his angle. Their fights were never just physical. Their rivalry is so much more than that. It’s glowing hate, and it’s shattering anger, and tears shoot into her eyes as she tries to hold on to her last remaining bits of dignity.

She won’t let him break her. She won’t. Not in this way.

No matter what he does to her.

“Please,” she brings out, voice almost cracking.

“Please,” he purrs, grasping her chin with more strength, “what?”

She glares at him, cheeks hot and her tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. “Please don’t tell him. Please keep that secret to yourself, Adrien. Please.”

His eyes light up. “Good girl,” he whispers, stroking her cheek with an affection that makes her want to barf. “Always knew you’d look so pretty while begging for me.”

She bites back the insult sitting on her tongue. She bites back the urge to slap him across the face.

“Even if I gotta admit, love it when you glare at me like that too.” He leans forward, and before she can react, he has kissed her forehead. The touch leaves a tingling sensation. She clenches her hands to fists. “Meet you back at the table, little bug. Our friends are waiting.”

He lets go of her. Winks before leaving her standing on the spot.

Her heart is racing. She is breathing hard and jerkily. Her cheeks are so hot she feels like burning up. The feeling tumbling through her stomach finally makes her move, and she whirls her head around to him, the words unable to be held back anymore. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Agreste!”

“Like I said, you love it,” he calls back to her without turning around.

“Screw you sideways! To hell and back! I’m going to throttle you, you disgrace of a human being!”

“Creative.”

“Seriously, fuck you!”

He laughs, and then he vanishes to the dancefloor.

Marinette tries not to whimper. Tries not to sink to the floor. Because the realization sinks in, further and further, until she can hardly move anymore.

This game can only have one winner, and it probably won’t be her.

Chapter Text

She needs that Miraculous.

There is no way around it. Adrien could do god knows what if she lets this go on any longer. He could blackmail her. He could threaten her family. He could hold her parents hostage, casually calling her and demanding her own Miraculous with that infuriatingly silky voice of his. Or he could enjoy his game for even longer. Never letting her know when he’d get tired of it. Making her nights sleepless and every single one of their battles something far larger than it should be.

Their dynamic has changed. They aren’t equals anymore.

She fucking hates it.

So she has no choice but to do something about it.

“You know,” Marinette says as she and Alya enjoy their breakfast on their balcony, warm summer sun shining down on them, “it was nice to see him again. Adrien, I mean.”

Alya stops chewing. Glances at her. “You wanna bone him.”

Marinette almost drops her cup of coffee and splutters wildly. “Wh- I want to what?”

“Sleep with him. Whatever. Girl, your vibe was something else. He was practically devouring you with his eyes.” Alya squints. “Nino and I got the feeling there’s something you didn’t tell us. Because you know what happened a month ago? You two had one polite conversation, and you didn’t even as much as glance at him during the whole remaining evening. And now … This?”

Marinette blinks heavily. “I do not want to sleep with Adrien.”

“Right. I mean, I couldn’t blame you.”

“Alya, I do not.”

“Okay, okay,” she mumbles, holding up one of her hands. “But?”

“But,” Marinette says, forcing herself to go on, “you know, he’s in the fashion business. And I, uh. It would be … it would be great to have connections.”

Alya keeps chewing for a while. Her eyebrows wander upwards. “You wanna tell me you want to befriend him to gain connections?”

Shrugging, Marinette shows an unsure smile. “Yes?”

“Very much unlike you. Just admit that you wanna get in his pants.”

“Alya.”

“Okay! Okay. You’re gonna get all businesswoman on me, I see.” Humming, Alya takes her phone and unlocks the display. “So, you want to use Nino and me to get closer to him?”

“Exactly! See, you can totally read my mind.”

“Totally,” Alya drawls. “Coffee? Lunch? Something fun? No, we should start with coffee, or –”

“Or,” Marinette interrupts quickly, “I, um … We go to … We invite ourselves over to his place?”

A moment of silence. Marinette tries not to become a blushing mess. She has an idea how that sounds, and Alya must have too. Okay, whatever. If the sacrifice for getting that goddamn Miraculous is looking like a thirsty fangirl who can’t admit that embarrassing fact to herself in front of Alya, then she will live with it.

Because the plan is simple. Get into his apartment with Alya and Nino, steal his ring from his finger, and watch as he can’t do anything about it while he still has to play his part of the nice guy in front of their friends. Too bad for him that rings can be slipped from a finger easily, while earrings require a bit more work.

This will go swimmingly, she’s sure.

“We invite ourselves over to his,” Alya eventually repeats, typing something into her phone. “Is this new code for, ‘I really want to bone him, so please leave us alone at eleven p.m.’?”

“No need to leave us alone,” Marinette quickly replies. “Really no need. I just think – you know –”

“I get it. Don’t admit it to me, then. Not like you told me every tiniest detail about your sex life with Luka. Doesn’t hurt one bit.”

“Alya, I really don’t want to … bone him.”

“Sure you don’t. Even I want to.”

“You have a boyfriend.”

“Nino wants to bone him too, so that’s not much of a problem.”

Marinette finally has to laugh. “You’re such a bad influence.”

“Don’t I know it,” Alya chirps. “All right. Message is sent. Let’s pray that Adrien will find at least a little bit of subtlety in your clumsy attempt at seduction.”

Snorting, Marinette takes a bite of her croissant.

She seriously expects him to text her just shortly afterwards. Teasing her about the fact that Alya’s question must sound pretty obvious. Or telling her he’s looking forward to it. Or making her nervous in any way at all. But he doesn’t. Her phone stays silent, and it’s midday when Marinette is sitting over an assignment, noticing that Alya sent her a text.

[Alya]: Adrien says he’s free tonight. gurl that guy has an eye on u

Marinette rolls her eyes. As if she doesn’t know that already. Tonight is a bit early, but that’s not a bad thing. Anything but. The sooner she gets this over with, the sooner she’ll stop having to worry about any move Adrien could make. Tikki watches her as Marinette leans back, biting her lower lip.

“I am worried,” Tikki says, “that Adrien will have the same idea as you and use this evening to steal your earrings.”

Marinette nods slowly. “It’s risky.”

“So maybe …”

“Yeah. I think I’ll leave you here with the other kwamis.”

Tikki gives a sound. “Although that is just as risky. If you need your Miraculous …”

She contemplates. Leans her head back. “Then I will take a taxi home. I’m sorry, Tikki, but I have to take that risk. The thought of him toying with me forever is – it’s too much. I have to do something about it.”

A long look, and eventually, Tikki gives a tiny smile. “Okay, Marinette. I trust you.”

Marinette tries to smile back.

Adrien lives in a nice part of the city. Of course he does. Stupid rich kids and their stupid privileges. His apartment is on the tenth floor of a gigantic building with balconies Marinette would die to eat breakfast on while watching a beautiful sunrise. For a moment, she wonders if he brings home many girls, and if all of them can enjoy such a view in the morning. For the low price of having sex with an asshole.

Yeah, no, she’ll kindly decline.

She can ignore Alya and Nino’s suggestive comments. After all, there are bigger things at stake. She can even ignore that goddamn smirk Adrien shows when he opens the door for them. His hair seems a bit messier than usual, and Marinette has to wonder if this more Chat-like hairstyle is just another little detail that is supposed to tick her off.

“Hey, guys,” he greets them, all smiles and sunshine. She holds back a gag. “So good to see you. Nothing better than spontaneous hangouts.”

“Right? It has been an eternity since we last met up like this.” Alya gives him a hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Looking gorgeous as always, sunshine.”

“Thanks, Alya.” He smiles bashfully. How disgustingly cute. “Can only return that compliment.”

Marinette is the last one to be greeted. She really doesn’t want to hug him, but it’s kind of expected of them. And the asshole that he is, he waits for her to make the first move. His back is to Alya and Nino, so the smug grin he sends her is entirely lost on them.

“You look great, Marinette,” he says, his tone not matching his facial expression. “I love your jeans. Really fit you.”

Her mouth twitches. “Right? They are my favorites.”

“I can see why.” He moves to hug her. His hands land on the small of her back, just short of sliding inappropriately low. She tenses up, but refrains from breaking free. His hot breath meets her ear. “And nice earrings too. Never saw that pair on you before.”

“Yeah, you know,” she whispers back. “Sometimes, you gotta change things up.”

He chuckles. Leans away again. “I think so too,” he says cheerily as he holds up his hand. “That wristwatch is new. Feels a bit foreign, but it looks good, doesn’t it?”

It takes her a while to get it.

His ring finger on his right hand is empty.

Fuck.

The realization must dawn on her face, because he winks at her before he turns away. “All right. Drinks, guys. What are you in the mood for?” he announces, sauntering to the kitchen area. Marinette stares after him, her jaw starting to quiver. With more aggression than necessary, she gets out of her shoes and stomps over the floor, paying no attention to his dumb beautiful furniture and his dumb beautiful living room. Alya sends her a funny look and leans over the kitchen island.

“Wine for my bestie and me, and I bet beer for you guys.”

“My girl just knows me,” Nino laughs. “Yeah, bro. Brought a sixpack for us.”

“You really didn’t have to.” Adrien smiles at him. “But thanks. You can make yourselves at home on the balcony. Nino’s the DJ for tonight, right?”

“When am I not?” With a grin, Nino takes the beer Adrien hands him and moves away. One last look at Marinette, and Alya leans back too.

“Marinette, could you bring me my glass? Nino has to properly show me the balcony, you know.”

Not hard to guess what is going on. “Sure,” Marinette drawls, watching as Alya grins at her before leaving her alone with Adrien. He is humming as he pulls a bottle of wine from above the cupboards, his back to her. She watches. Eyes wandering over his form. His T-shirt clings to his body, and it’s no wonder he is that fit. A model, of course. Not too broadly built or especially bulky, but his body is to die for nonetheless. Proportional, well-trained, with a butt that she’d love to dig her nails into, or the heels of her feet –

If he was anyone else than her irritating enemy, that is.

“I can feel you staring, love bug,” he lilts as he grabs two wine glasses from his cupboard.

“Don’t feel flattered,” she grits out. “I’m just watching what you’re doing with my drink.”

“So openly hostile. Scary.” With a mocking grin, he puts the two glasses right in front of her nose and makes a big show of removing the cork from the bottle. “Look, I’m a lot. But not a coward who would spike your drink.”

“A lot sounds about right,” she returns sharply.

For a second, he stays silent. Holds one of the glasses with one hand while filling in one eighth of red wine, and eventually passing it on to her. “Aren’t you one to talk. How much do our friends know about you kicking akuma asses? Not a lot, huh?”

“At least I’m not Hawk Moth’s pretty pet.”

He snorts, still not looking at her. “No. You’re just cute innocent Marinette. The little mouse who sat behind me in class and always had something nice to say to everyone. Who couldn’t harm a fly. You ever let them see behind your pretty façade, my lady?”

“I don’t have any façade.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that.” He clicks his tongue. “You must be a great liar if Alya has no idea why you really came here. What did you tell her instead?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Because I think she’s getting her own ideas.”

“Which are inaccurate.”

He grins at her, finally. Slides the second filled glass towards her. “Would you look at that,” he purrs. “You’re not only good at lying to others. You’re also great at lying to yourself.”

The implication is too much. Their fingers brush, and she jerkily lifts her glass and turns around, not deigning him another look. “In your dreams, mangy cat,” she tells him.

If he replies, she doesn’t hear it.

Like she thought, his balcony offers a fantastic view of Paris. She almost gasps as she approaches the railing, momentarily forgetting that this is her enemy’s territory. Like his whole apartment, Adrien’s balcony is tastefully decorated, plants surrounding the chairs and the table. She takes a sip of her wine, enjoying the low summer breeze in her hair.

“Stupid rich people,” Alya mumbles as she leans over the railing next to her. “Our three square meters are nothing compared to this.”

“Stupid rich people,” Marinette agrees.

Adrien joins them just a second afterwards, and the faint sound of background music carries their conversation. Marinette can’t help watching Adrien. Façade, he said. The only façade she sees is his. She knows Chat inside out, whether she wants to or not. She has seen him with pain in his eyes, she has seen him at his lowest. She has seen him bleeding and laughing at the absurdity of their fate. The one thing he never told her was why, though. Why he is forcing her to hate him. Why he has to bury the many good sides he surely must possess underneath a layer of gross comments and lazy smiles.

Because when Adrien is laughing at something Nino says, so freely and genuinely, he seems almost unfamiliar. And more like himself than he ever did.

She can’t deny that there is something attractive about him. Not only because he’s a model – she couldn’t care less about that. It’s the way he smiles, mostly. Not when it’s directed at her. Something is off when he looks at her. She always thought she knew Chat like the back of her hand, and suddenly, there is this one puzzle piece she could never quite grasp.

It makes her heart ache. It makes her angry. It makes her realize that she didn’t come here to stare at Adrien like an idiot, but to get a job done. So she finally makes the step she needs to.

“Sorry, I have to use the bathroom. Where …?”

Adrien looks at her. Something flashes through his eyes. “I can show you.”

“Oh, no, don’t bother,” she quickly says. It sounds too hasty even in her own ears. “I’ll find it.”

A smile on his lips. “Sure. Down the hall, last door to the right.”

“Thanks.” She stands up. Feels watched by not only Adrien, but Alya, too. “I’ll be right back.”

Luckily for her, the balcony only offers a view of the living room. The entirety of the hallway is hidden from sight. So it’s easy to slip in there, wait for a few seconds, and open the first door she sees.

Jackpot. His bedroom.

If she was him, she would choose a personal space, right? Or hide the ring between her other jewelry. Or just hide it anywhere no person is supposed to look. And maybe, just maybe, he left the ring in his bedroom on purpose. Just to mock her further. After all, he just loves underestimating her, doesn’t he?

She closes the door behind her carefully and goes to work.

“Plagg?” she whispers. Receives no answer. Well enough. Adrien seems to be a tidy person, everything neatly in place. His desk, his documents. The whole room smells like him. She scrunches up her nose, opens drawer after drawer. Quickly looks through them. Glances underneath the desk, opens the door to his wardrobe. A whole mountain of designer clothes. She doesn’t think about how much this whole collection must be worth. Doesn’t matter anyway. His nightstand offers nothing more than a book he is reading. Something about economy. His bedsheets carry his scent.

She stops a moment too long before sighing. Nothing. But she wasn’t very thorough either, and she goes back to the nightstand when a sudden noise makes her freeze.

The door was opened.

Of course. Of fucking course.

“That’s not the bathroom,” Adrien says. Most of the playfulness he usually displays is lost under his hard tone.

She stays in her crouched position. Doesn’t dare turn around to him. “Woops. I think I got lost.”

“Yeah. I think so too.”

“Maybe we should go back to –”

“They’re gone.”

Marinette’s heart beats up to her throat. Her hands start to feel clammy. “Really?” she returns, trying to sound free of worry. “They went home?”

“I told them,” Adrien drawls, “that I want to spend some time with you. There’s something about you I just can’t resist, you see.”

He’s still standing in the doorframe, cutting off her only means of escaping. She stands up. Turns around to him. His face is blank, but he doesn’t look too happy. She guesses she wouldn’t be happy to discover such a sight either.

“They are not with me,” she tells him. “My earrings.”

“It’s not with me either,” he returns.

She gulps. Which means this whole evening was a waste of time. And that she kind of pissed him off. Not a good move. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying feverishly to think. The hell is she supposed to do now? Beg him for forgiveness?

Knowing him, that’s exactly what he wants, she guesses.

She can’t move a finger as he takes a step towards her. Her body shudders, readying itself to flee, or attack, or do anything not to be at his mercy. Adrien doesn’t stop until he is close to her, looking down at her face. She doesn’t shy away. Nightly shadows drench him in surreality. Her body is on alert, just waiting for the right moment to slip away and escape danger.

“I don’t appreciate people sneaking through my stuff.”

She grits her teeth. Sheds just one more bit of dignity. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you think that was risky? Not a very elaborate plan, was it?”

She doesn’t reply. Watches his expression. A shimmer of sneer, and yet, something about his face darkened. Maybe she finally broke the camel’s back. Maybe it’s the moment he will screw her over for good. The realization makes her thoughts swirl, muting her fear underneath a layer of numbness.

What she didn’t expect was for him to lift his hand, to reach for her earlobe once again. She raises her hand on instinct, realizing just in the last moment that she wears nothing that would have to be protected. So her hand hovers uselessly in the air as his fingers eventually touch her skin, and she lets them wander over her ear. More and more, until he pinches lightly.

A pulsating feeling dances through her. Instead of swatting his hand away, her fingers grab his wrist. Not holding him in place, but not moving him away either. Everything feels too numb and too intense at the same time, and she can’t look away from him.

“You look different,” he whispers. “Without them.”

She keeps breathing. Can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to his words than a simple statement. His brows furrow as he seems to search her eyes. For a long moment, she thinks it’s only part of his stupid game. Another little step she doesn’t know what to do with.

But he isn’t grinning at her like he usually does, isn’t making fun of her, and she suddenly realizes something crucial. He is without his Miraculous, and she is too.

There is nothing to gain in this moment. And nothing to lose.

His fingers wander down to her earlobe again. Gently massage it. Her heart starts racing, and before she knows it, a sound has built in her throat, scatters and stumbles until it flows over her lips. Her sluggish mind doesn’t catch up with what is happening, and she can’t do anything but fall into the feeling.

Her nails bite into his wrist. He sets his jaw, tugging at her earlobe. She should move away, should break free, should do anything at all. But heat crashes through her in a sudden wave, and she gasps at the touch, trying to back away and getting nowhere.

“You’re sensitive here,” he mumbles, and he almost sounds awestruck.

She wants to shake her head, but she can’t.

“Cute.” His thumb glides over her ear, and she shivers so violently her knees become wobbly. “Fuck, you’re cute.”

She has no idea what this is. She has no idea what to do with it. She can hardly react when he leans closer, when she feels his warm breath on her ear. His lips. His tongue, hot and wet, sliding over the sensitive skin. Everything inside her screams to get away, but she doesn’t move. Instead she closes her eyes at the sensation, a shuddering moan vibrating in her chest. Fingers on her jaw hold her in place as she feels his tongue play with her earring, and she has to hold back a whimper.

“Moan for me some more, Marinette,” he whispers to her. “Let me hear you.”

For him. Moan for him.

The words bring her back to reality with a painful thump. She wrenches her head to the side at once, trying to get away. But he is faster. Before she can flee, his fingers wrap around her throat, pulling her back. She shouldn’t be turned on. It’s wrong. It’s so goddamn wrong. But the way he lightly squeezes, the way his breathing has quickened, the way he stares at her with dilated pupils –

Fuck. She is so turned on she can already feel the wetness between her legs.

“You want to run, little bug?” His thumb caresses her jaw. He isn’t choking her, isn’t squeezing hard, but feeling his hand around her throat, feeling vulnerable and weak beneath him, makes her shudder nonetheless. “Want to run while looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” She wanted to reply with defiance, but all that escapes her is something meek and shaking.

He leans down to her, body coming closer, his chest brushing against hers. His grip around her throat tightening the slightest bit. She can’t help but melt into it, tries not to close her eyes before his lips hover above hers, so close she can already taste them.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathes.

She doesn’t. She doesn’t. He is her enemy. Her arrogant, irritating enemy. Who grosses her out with his comments. Who looks at her like she is his prey. Who leers at her when he thinks she isn’t looking. Who can set her whole body on fire with just one little glance. Whose touches leave goosebumps all over her body. Whose words, when spoken softly in the darkness of the night, make her heart swell with regret.

She can’t want this.

“I don’t,” she spits into his face, grabs his wrist, and tears it away from her. He complies without resisting, and thus only stumbles back when she pushes him away with more force than necessary. “And just for your information. I would never want to touch you. Not even with a ten-foot pole. Never.”

“Oh, yeah?” he calls after her when she stomps out of his bedroom. “So I just imagined you getting worked up right now?”

“Guess you did,” she barks back.

“Sure I did, Ladybug.”

“Marinette,” she corrects.

“Marinette,” he parrots mockingly, following her as she arrives at the entrance door and slips into her shoes. “Right, keep lying to yourself. Way easier, isn’t it?”

“Way easier than what?” She whirls around to him at last. A hint of pain in his eyes, but it is hidden by the same fury she is feeling. “Falling right into your strong arms? Dream on, mangy cat.”

He snorts. “I’d watch your step from now on if I were you, princess.”

“Same goes for you,” she hisses, “kitty.”

His grin is sardonic and short-lived, and she flips him the bird before leaving his apartment.

She hates him.

Fuck, she hates him with a passion. Every spot he touched feels icky and gross, and when she finally arrives home, she is still a mess of anger and fury. The urge to strangle someone is so strong that she doesn’t even properly react when on the couch, Alya gives a sound and quickly moves away from Nino, covering her naked upper body with her arms.

“Oh – ha – hi, Marinette!” she greets her, sounding especially cheery. “I didn’t think – you – wow, you’re very early!”

“Yes,” Marinette drawls, not paying any attention to the way Nino tries to hide behind the couch’s backrest. “I guess I am. I need some alone time. Have fun, you two.”

She throws her door shut with so much force that the walls almost vibrate.

She mumbles a number of curses. Lets herself drop on her bed. Covers her face with her hands for a long moment and tries to think. That asshole still has his Miraculous. That’s the one thing she can’t let him have. She’ll have to fix this somehow. She’ll have to be faster than him in some way.

She never takes off her earrings. She bets he never takes off his ring either. What a funny coincidence that they both made an exception for tonight.

Tikki watches her from the desk, eyes full of worry. “I will say that you didn’t manage to get his ring?”

“No,” she sighs. “He hid it. Not in his apartment, he told me.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yes, oh dear. And he is icky, and disgusting, and god, I hate him.”

Tikki sighs again. Flops down next to Marinette’s head. “You know, there is a reason Master Fu chose him.”

“Of course there is,” Marinette growls. “Because as Adrien, he is just perfect. All handsome and nice and with a pretty smile. People trust him. Not even Fu could have known who he really is.”

Tikki seems to hesitate. It’s not the first time they are having this conversation, and not the first time she protests weakly. “Something must have happened for him to change sides. Or else, Master Fu would have never given him the Cat Miraculous.”

Marinette snorts, rolling to her side to look at Tikki. “I can’t imagine him being my partner. We would constantly have a go at each other, and I bet you he wouldn’t be helpful at all.”

“I wonder.” Tikki smiles sadly. “Ladybug and Chat Noir are two parts of a whole. They …”

“… complement each other perfectly,” Marinette finishes the sentence, rolling her eyes. “I know. I feel pretty complete without him, though.”

“I know.” Tikki’s smile turns a tad more genuine. “After all, you are a great Ladybug. Not everyone could have handled Chat Noir’s antics like you do.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I just wish I could make it end for good. Get his Miraculous, and destroy Hawk Moth afterwards. Just kick both their asses. Watch in glee as they realize I stomped all over their pride.” She sighs dreamily. “One day, surely. One day.”

A knock at the door interrupts her. “Marinette?” Alya calls from outside. “Are you all right? Do I need to kick that rich kid’s ass? No, seriously, did something happen?”

Marinette sighs again, and she takes a glance at Tikki who understands immediately, vanishing through one of the walls. “Come in,” she calls.

Carefully, Alya opens the door and peeks in. Marinette gives her a smile.

“Nothing happened. I just don’t think Adrien and I are compatible, that’s all.”

Alya makes a face. “Now I feel bad for leaving you alone. I’m sorry, I really thought …”

“It’s okay. Thank you for caring about my love life that much.”

It sounded tired, but it makes Alya smile a bit nonetheless. “So, no business opportunities with Mister Agreste anymore? Just so I know whether I can invite you to parties he’s at or not.”

Marinette contemplates. Keeping her distance wouldn’t be too dumb. Then again, he is most vulnerable when he is Adrien, and being closer to him in this state doesn’t have to be such a bad idea. As long as she doesn’t let herself be riled up by his stupid flirting.

Well. Not as if he even can rile her up in any way, that is.

“Maybe we could become closer friends.” Marinette shrugs. “After a while. So, no worries. All in all, he’s okay.”

“I see.” A smile grows on Alya’s lips. “All right, then. Friends. I think we can manage that.”

“Yes, friends, Alya. Friends who don’t want to bone each other.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“My tone is perfectly innocent.”

“Just as innocent as whatever you did with Nino on our couch? Emphasis on our?”

Alya shuts up and quickly closes the door again. “I didn’t hear you!” she yells from outside.

Snorting, Marinette lets her head drop to the bed.

Ladybug sees him the next day. An akumatized villain decided to wreak havoc on a school. An overworked teacher, she guesses spontaneously as she sees giant Fs displayed on innocent people’s foreheads which render them motionless. Beautiful.

Nevertheless, she is momentarily distracted when Chat Noir lands in front of her. Swaying his cat tail lazily, head slightly tilted, and a purr on his lips as midday sun breaks on his suit. “What a lovely day, my la-”

She walks up to him and punches him right in the face.

“That’s for being annoying,” she tells him. Lunges out again. “And that’s for –”

She is interrupted by a kick to her stomach. Doubling over, she tries to find hold on something and only reaches his arm in the process.

“What the hell, Ladybug?” he grits out. “Just gonna punch me for no reason from now on?”

“Don’t be a baby,” she repeats his words from two evening ago, managing to stand up straight again when the pain doesn’t make her want to gag anymore. She immediately lets go of him, making a face. “The suit protects you anyway.”

“Which doesn’t mean you just have a free pass to punch me!”

“Yeah? Did you ever ask for permission to stare at me like a creep?”

His face darkens. He steps closer to her, face hovering above hers. “Could ask you the same, bug.”

“I don’t stare at you,” she growls. “I would never voluntarily want to stare at your gross face.”

“You don’t?” He licks his lips, and automatically, her eyes follow the movement. His tongue leaves a wet trail that sends a hot shower down her spine, and she doesn’t even notice she is biting her lip until he hears him chuckle. “I can see that.”

Her breath hitches. Her eyes snap to his again. Too close, too close, fuck, way too close –

So she picks the only sensible option she has and kicks his shin so hard he yelps.

“Bite me,” she snarls.

“Gladly,” he brings out through clenched teeth. “Wherever you want me to, bugaboo.”

“Uh, you know, one of my additional qualifications is mediating, so …?”

Both Ladybug and Chat turn their heads to the akumatized villain next to them, looking uncomfortable as she smiles at both of them. When neither says anything, the villain ducks her head further.

“I could also suggest pair therapy?”

“I bet you he needs therapy,” Ladybug replies sharply. “And a lot of it, too.”

Chat sniffs. “Says the one punching me in the face instead of greeting me like any normal human being would.”

She sends him a poisonous look, noticing in the last moment possible that he is swinging his baton at her. Right, enemies and stuff. Dodging his attack, she rolls towards the villain, but she seems to have caught on too. The transparent F she sends right in Ladybug’s direction can barely be dodged, but she somehow manages to nonetheless, using her yo-yo to swing away. When she lands on a rooftop, she hears footsteps right behind her.

“You know how to end all of this, bugaboo,” Chat lilts.

All of this. Right. All of the pussyfooting around, all of the doubts she has about his intentions. It’s not the first time she thought about it. Just giving up. Fighting alone can become lonely, no matter how often she chooses temporary allies. So lonely that sometimes, she has no idea what to do with herself anymore.

Tikki told her Chat Noir is supposed to be her partner. Her equal. Her ally. The one person who would never leave her side.

Too bad that he never chose her in the first place.

“You’re getting on my nerves, Chat,” she growls, summoning her Lucky Charm and praying to everything out there that her suit will cooperate this time. She is just about to snatch the object from the air – a paper plane – when a shadow suddenly glides over her, taking the item with it.

And it only takes her a few more seconds to get it.

Chat Noir has stolen her Lucky Charm. And the fucker that he is, he gracefully lands a few meters in front of her, turning the paper plane between his fingers, curious eyes on it.

“Oh, interesting,” he muses loudly.

Anger makes her fingertips tingle. “Give that back.”

“Hm. Nope.”

“Give,” she repeats, “that back.”

He smirks. “Make me.”

She resists the urge to roar out. Instead, she lunges out and tosses her yo-yo right at him. Of course he dodges easily, slipping away from the rooftop while sunlight is still reflected on his suit. This goddamn –

“Chat Noir!” she screams, fury surging through her as she follows him. Down to an abandoned alley, but he is nowhere to be seen. Her hasty steps echo from the walls as she searches for him, but there’s no sign of him anywhere, and a labyrinth of contorted back alleys greets her, entirely void of any life.

God damn it.

She is just about to give up and search for him by using rooftops when suddenly, something crashes into her and shoves her against a nearby wall so hard she is seeing stars for a moment. Before she can free herself, her wrists are already held behind her back by a strong arm, and a warm body cages her in.

“Peekaboo,” Chat says, the smug grin almost audible in his voice alone.

Ladybug freezes. Searches for a quick way out. Her cheek is squeezed against the cold wall, but she can still move her legs, and –

He presses himself against her, and his teeth graze her outer ear.

It’s a move so surprising that she releases a quivering sound. She only realizes what is going on when Chat moves to her earring. God, she was being careless. Way too careless. His proximity should be nothing but disgusting, and it managed to make her reactions too sluggish to free herself in time. He is going to steal her earrings just like that, and she isn’t going to be able to do anything. When she tries to move her legs, he shoves his knee against her thigh so hard she shivers with pain, her legs almost giving out for good.

His teeth reach her earring, the sound of them scraping over metal making her heart drop to her stomach.

Fuck her dignity if it means saving herself and her Miraculous.

“Please,” she therefore whispers. “Chat, please.”

He hums, tongue darting out to trace the shape of her ear. “Please what?”

“Please –” A sound spills from her lips when he presses his lips against her ear, a delicate touch that makes her knees get weak. “Please …”

One of his hands wanders up, thumb travelling over her jaw as he turns her head to get better access. “Please what?” he asks.

“Don’t,” she whimpers. His tongue glides over her earring until her hips jerk against him so hard he groans. “Fuck, please, Chat –”

“Told you, Marinette,” he breathes, his words feeling cold on her wettened ear. She shivers wildly, grinding against him again until his thigh forces itself between her legs, and she moans lowly when she finally finds friction. Heat forms in her stomach, her body trembling from head to toe. “Told you you’re lying to yourself. Admit it. This is what you want, princess. This.” He rubs his thigh against her core roughly, and she almost cries out at the touch, hips moving unwittingly with his movements.

It’s not what she wants. It isn’t. It isn’t.

“It isn’t,” she finally manages to bring out, gasping when he presses a kiss against her neck.

“Tell me to stop, then.”

She whimpers. Tries to think. Her hands are still behind her back, being held in place by him. She could use her legs to – god, why does this feel so good, or – she could just, anything, she could –

She’s a mess. She can’t let herself be a mess. She’s this city’s sole protector, and she is rubbing herself against her enemy as if having lost all her self-control.

Damn this lousy cat.

“Let me turn around,” she pants, moving her hips against him harder. Allowing herself to be selfish and enjoy the feeling one last time.

“Hm, no. I like you in this position.”

“Chat,” she whispers. “Please.”

He pauses. And it’s the only moment of hesitation she needed. Because his grip on her hands loosens, and he thinks he still in control when really, all she needs to do is gain a better stance, gird herself, and push herself back with enough strength to make him falter for a moment. As soon as she can free her hands, she is already turning around, kicking him back so hard he lands against the wall across from them. He gives a sound as he catches himself, and laughter shines in his eyes as he looks up at her.

“Woops,” he grins. “Got careless, huh?”

“Give me the Lucky Charm, Chat.”

“And yet, you didn’t tell me to stop.”

“Shut up and give me the Lucky Charm.”

His cat tail is holding it in place, she realizes as he plucks it from there, prompting her with a nod to come closer. She strictly ignores the heat still pulsating through her. She strictly ignores the evidence of what that moment did to him, too. His knowing smile makes her blood boil as she snatches the Lucky Charm right from his fingers.

“You’re welcome, my lady,” he purrs.

She doesn’t reply. She is about to turn away when he speaks up again.

“I can smell how aroused you are, you know. Kitty senses.” His sulky look glides over her body so slowly that she feels her skin prickle. “Not that I need any more evidence than you rubbing yourself against me like that.”

She collects her dignity. Tries not to show her true feelings. “You’re nothing but sickening, Chat.”

He clicks his tongue. “Rich coming from you.”

She glares at him and swings away.

He doesn’t turn up again. Not as she purifies the akuma, and not afterwards. Her suit decided to cooperate for once. She helps the akuma victim, uses her Lucky Charm, and stays where she is. Somehow expecting him to turn up again. Somehow hoping he won’t.

He doesn’t.

She sets her jaw and leaves.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, their rivalry seems like a dance.

Even at the beginning, she quickly understood what he lacked. Patience and a quick eye for opportunity. Whereas she managed to defeat not only the akuma, but him too every single time, Chat Noir hardly ever forced her into a corner. Admittedly, he always had been a weird ally to Hawk Moth. Helping him one day as fiercely as he could, and standing on the sidelines the next, sending her nothing but looks she didn’t know what to do with.

Most of the time, it seemed like a pastime to him. Circle her for a while, attack here and then, and then retreat. Bored of his little toy already, yawning while his cat ears would twitch.

Sometimes, the melody picked up, leading them into another rhythm. Uncharacteristic seriousness would cover his face then. No time for his flirty remarks. His attacks hard and relentless. It happened far and few between. Every time it did, Ladybug couldn’t breathe after their battles, fear and adrenaline wearing her out. Fear that he would never go back to his previous ways of only watching, only acting on his few whims. Adrenaline at the thought of having met her equal. Someone who could also easily destroy her.

Chat Noir might have not been blessed with quick, instinctive thinking, but he’s always been a great opponent nonetheless. If he wanted to be.

Right now, it’s still a dance. But Marinette doesn’t know when the tune will change. And that’s the scariest part.

Well, maybe not as scary as the surprise she gets on a Monday morning as she steps into her parents’ bakery, that is.

She could see that only one customer is inside, so she didn’t hesitate to enter, her dad’s laughter the first sound she is aware of. A silky voice joins him though, and the familiarity strikes her a moment too late.

“I never knew Marinette was such a gifted baker!” With a bright smile, Adrien regards the macaron she made just yesterday, his eyes sparkling. “I think there are a lot of things I missed about her.”

“Well, Adrien. It’s a pity we couldn’t see you here more often.”

Adrien’s smile saddens a bit. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Marinette freezes on the spot. Her stomach churns. Adrien Agreste is here. In her parents’ bakery. Somehow, the real danger escaped her mind for far too long. He could do god knows what. He could transform any moment. Hold her parents hostage and force her to give up her Miraculous. Her throat closes up, and she can hardly react as her dad’s eyes meet hers.

“Marinette! Dear!” Tom beams. “Your old classmate gave us a visit.”

“I can see that,” she croaks, forcing a smile on her face. “What a nice surprise.”

Adrien’s eyes drift to her. He keeps lazily turning the macaron between his fingers, and somehow, it seems like he needs a moment to catch himself again. “Almost forgot that your parents are the best bakers in Paris.” His smile is uncharacteristically warm as he takes a bite out of the macaron. “And seems like you are too.”

She doesn’t know what to say, her hand cramping around her bag’s strap.

“Where did you hide this fine young man before?” Tom pats Adrien’s back. “He knows a lot about fashion, too.”

Marinette swallows. “Yeah. Because he’s Adrien Agreste.”

“Is that supposed to tell me something?”

Adrien laughs quietly at that. His voice lacks all the mockery she is used from him as he explains. “My father is a designer. Gabriel Agreste, if you know him. I’m kind of preparing to be second in charge.”

“Agreste … Oh, Agreste!” Tom’s nose turns a bit red. “Wow. Uh, I’m sorry. I should have realized.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Dupain. I think there are far more important matters in life than fashion and business. Or fame.” He pops the remaining bite of his macaron into his mouth, going on with his mouth half-full. “For example, pastries.”

Tom laughs. “Please call me Tom. Don’t wanna feel like I’m forty.”

Marinette swallows. Comes closer. “You’re over forty, Dad.”

“If it’s any consolation, I would have guessed mid-thirties.” Adrien’s smile seems so genuine that even Marinette believes it for a second. How can this sunshine boy really be Chat Noir? All polite and appropriate, his poses inviting, his voice the perfect example of trustworthiness, and it’s no wonder he had everyone fooled like that.

Their eyes meet for a second. One corner of his mouth twitches up, and his smirk has the hair on her neck stand on end.

And there you go, back to the asshole she is familiar with.

“Why are you here, Adrien?” She tries to sound as cheerful as possible. “I thought you didn’t have any time to visit my parents’ bakery. Ever. Literally ever.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry.” With a coy laugh, he scratches the back of his head. “After we talked so much about it, I was just really curious.”

Right. Her eye begins to twitch, but she keeps up her smile. “You could have just asked me to get you some pastries.”

“Oh, sorry. That’s right. Guess I was just impatient. You know, finally wanted to have a good, thorough taste of your pastries.” His smile is still way too polite, but she knows the way his tongue drags over certain syllables too well. “I like cream-filled ones best. And you?”

“I like them shredded to tiny pieces that I can stomp on.”

Adrien seems to hold back a laugh while Tom stares at her, brows furrowed.

“Kidding, kidding! Macarons. I love macarons,” she quickly adds.

Adrien is still smiling at her. Bastard. “Really? Maybe I could bake some macarons for you someday. I just always make them way too big. People can hardly fit them into their mouths.” He laughs in embarrassment. “Hope that won’t be the case for you.”

He can stick his “macarons” right up his ass.

“Sounds lovely! Some baking lessons from Marinette herself.” Tom rubs her shoulder with a proud smile. “She is a great teacher.”

“She only learned from the best, after all,” Adrien returns.

“A true charmer, I see. Visit us anytime, Adrien.” Tom puts some macarons into a paper bag and hands it to Adrien. “There, on the house. For being such a great friend of my daughter’s.”

“Oh. That is …” For the first moment since Marinette knows about his secret, the bashfulness in Adrien’s eyes seems genuine. So much so that Marinette frowns. “That really isn’t necessary. How much –”

Tom doesn’t let the bag be handed back to him, though. “Aren’t famous people used to getting presents?” he laughs.

“Just take it,” Marinette interferes. “I need to talk to you, Adrien.”

That seems to shift something in the atmosphere. Adrien sends her a look before taking the paper bag for good. “Thank you very much, Tom.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll make sure to pay you back sometime.”

“Don’t. Just enjoy the macarons.” He winks. “And look after my daughter while you’re at it.”

“Oh, I will,” Adrien laughs pleasantly.

She wants to strangle him.

Still showing her best smile, she drags him outside. Only when they aren’t visible from the bakery’s front window anymore does she come to an abrupt halt, her hand landing on his collar as she glares at him. It’s not a surprise that his lazy smile returns, and he tilts his head at her, seemingly not impressed by the way she glowers at him.

“What,” she snaps, “are you doing here?”

“Like I said, bugaboo. Felt like having some nice, warm, fresh pastries.”

She swallows thickly. Searches his eyes for his true intentions. “What are you planning?”

His grin broadens. “What do you think I’m planning?”

“Counter-questions. Lovely.”

“Your hand ruining my shirt is kind of distracting, not going to lie.” He smirks. “You are very welcome to grab elsewhere, though.”

She abruptly lets go of him. Tries not to be irritated by the way he looks down at her.

“You said you wouldn’t tell Hawk Moth anything,” she says lowly.

“I also said you should watch your step,” he returns.

Slight amusement is coloring his face. She guesses the dance is still on. She guesses he still isn’t bored of her. A little mouse caught in the labyrinth, and the Cheshire cat is grinning lazily as it watches her. As long as she can keep the music playing, all she will have to deal with are the surprising tonal alterations. But when the music finally stops, she won’t know how to get out of this anymore.

“You don’t scare me, Agreste,” she snarls. “You are playing some stupid game, and I don’t want to have any part in it.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I never intended to scare you.”

“Right. What was your intention then?”

When he reaches for her neck, her whole body tenses. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around it though. He only lets his knuckles brush her skin, down to her shoulder, to the collarbone. Before he can get any further, she shoves his hand away, ignoring the knots having formed in her stomach.

Then, he taps against his empty earlobe. “That. In case you forgot, princess.”

She sets her jaw. “I didn’t.”

“Good.” He touches her chin. “Don’t want you to get distracted by anything, do we?”

She doesn’t know what he means. She doesn’t know what his angle is. He grins at her one last time before sauntering away. She is lying to herself, he said. She wants him, he said. He seldomly crossed such lines when she only knew him as Chat Noir.

She wants him, he said.

With the way he is acting, it almost seems like the only one wanting someone is him.

She bites the inside of her cheek. She so won’t think about him wanting her in any way. The abstract thought alone is, frankly, nothing more than gross. Absurdly gross. Because she sure as hell won’t forget about all the times he kicked her when was at the lowest, all the times he had nothing more to show her than a sneer, the many times she thought she’d be better off if she just hauled him off a cliff and be done with him forever.

He’s a smug bastard, and if he thinks he can wrap her around his finger like he can do with all the other people around him, he is wrong. She won’t let herself be seduced and treated like some kind of sick trophy. She won’t shed all her dignity and leave him as the winner. She won’t let him walk all over her and reduce her to a begging mess, whimpering for his attention like he wants her to.

She fucking won’t.

She will get that Miraculous back. And if it’s the last thing she does.

She guesses Adrien is the type of person to seem proper and well-mannered. Someone who seems to take his studies oh so seriously. So he’ll be in bed at midnight. At the latest. Like a good, proper student just would.

Thus, Ladybug arrives at the rooftop across from his apartment building at exactly midnight.

Tikki warned her several times that this could backfire. That without backup, she would be pretty much screwed if things went wrong. Ladybug knows. But she is used to operating alone. She got Alya involved too many times to count, and Nino too. She knows the danger they could be in, and if Adrien would gain information about their secret identities too …

She doesn’t even want to think about it.

And to her surprise, Adrien is leaning over his balcony’s railing, a drink in his hand that he slowly swirls around in his glass.

Ladybug raises an eyebrow. Well, all right. Then not the picture-perfect student, but the lonely rich kid sipping at his super expensive whiskey with little sad tears in his eyes. Whatever. She watches him for a moment longer, and then she decides to take the sneaky route. Over several other rooftops, hidden by the darkness of the night, until she lands at her destination.

From her position above his balcony, she can see Adrien’s blonde hair as he keeps sipping his drink. She watches him. Almost gets bored of it, until he is joined by another heap of blonde hair. Longer and tamed into a ponytail.

Lovely. A rich lonely kid who brings home girls and lets them see the whole range of his nice façade. Who would have guessed.

She waits until both of them are gone from her sight. She waits some more until she uses her yo-yo to climb down slowly and carefully. Making sure she remains unseen from his windows. Eventually, she’s able to take a quick glance at his balcony. It’s empty, the lights are out, but her eyes catch sight of what is going on inside.

She recognizes that girl. Chloé. Ah, yes, and it suddenly makes sense why such a nice person like Adrien was friends with someone like Chloé during their schooldays. She always wondered what exactly he saw in such a horrible person. Seems like he only saw a piece of himself.

They talk, and he laughs at something she says, his shoulders trembling. Chloé hits his upper arm, showing a pout. His smile is unusually soft when he draws her closer and pulls her into a hug. His hand in her hair, and she hugs him back, and Ladybug could barf at the sight. She just waits for the big passionate kiss, waits for them to tear at each other’s clothes, but they don’t.

Their hug ends, and Chloé slips into her shoes, and she blows him a kiss before leaving the apartment.

Adrien looks after her. Ladybug does too. He turns his head, and she finally has the good sense to jerk away, hiding from view. She’s ready to find another hiding spot, because if he were to enter the balcony again, he’d notice her in a matter of seconds – but she notices that the lights in the living room go out, and she is left in darkness.

She breathes. Counts to ten. Peeks in as carefully as possible. But she has no night vision, and it takes her time to discern what lies behind shadows. At least Adrien seems to be gone. That’s good.

She slips onto the balcony, landing soundlessly. Luckily enough, his balcony doors offer the possibility to be opened from outside. Still, it will take some time until he has fallen asleep. If he even goes to sleep right now. But she won’t risk anything. She’ll sit here, patiently and without a worry, and prepare herself to end all of this.

Finally.

She curls herself up on one of his chairs. Taps her fingers against the armrest. Her breathing is nervous and hard. Of course it is. She’ll have to make sure he won’t wake up as she steals his ring. But that’s all there is to it – slip in, take the ring, slip out again. No game to worry about then. A melody that is swiftly cut off. Dancing to his whims carries a bitter aftertaste, makes her stomach churn, and from inside, she hears steps. She is ready to go into hiding, but the steps vanish again, and a door is softly closed.

It usually takes people about fifteen minutes to fall asleep, she thinks.

So she keeps waiting.

With nothing to occupy her, her thoughts keep wandering. She remembers the very first time she thought he couldn’t be that bad. They were fifteen, and Hawk Moth managed to akumatize so many people that she had no idea how to get out of that situation. All of her allies were occupied, and she was too. Even more so when Chat landed not far away from her, eyes shimmering with interest. She remembers her breath getting stuck in her throat. She remembers her whole body tensing. She remembers his words, silky and soft.

“Hawk Moth is a coward to use numbers against you. Don’t think I can let this stand, bugaboo.”

He helped them.

She asked him why. Afterwards, when they were sitting on the Eiffel Tower together, just the two of them. A weird kind of calmness between them. She asked him why he would help her, and he looked at her and shrugged, his lips curling into a faint smile.

“I sometimes wonder if it’s worth it,” he admitted to her, sounding so small and unsure in between the night’s shadows. “I sometimes have to remember why it is.”

“Why is it?” she tried to ask.

Cat eyes slid to her. Narrowed. Contemplated. Decided. “Wouldn’t you like to know, little bug,” he laughed, and slipped from her grasp with graceful steps until he melted with darkness, the only thing left the coldness in her heart.

Three days afterwards, he kicked her so hard during another one of their senseless fight that she is pretty sure he broke a few of her ribs.

It could be different. It never changed. They stayed enemies, and she learned to hate him more with each passing day. What kind of choice does she have? She can’t allow herself anything else.

Inside, a digital clock paints red lights throughout the room. Half an hour has passed. It should be enough time. Ladybug makes sure to be as quiet as possible as she opens the balcony’s door, as she steps inside. Her eyes got used to the darkness, and she discovers a bottle of whiskey still sitting on the counter. She scrunches up her nose at the finding. Then, heart beating up to her throat, she enters the narrow hallway. Comes to a halt in front of his bedroom. Swallows down the fear threatening to arise.

Good thing that he is constantly underestimating her. So there is no way he’d think she’d be smart enough to do this. There’s no way he’s already anticipating this move.

No way.

She carefully pushes down the doorhandle. Listens for any tiny sound. She is starting to sweat, tries to control her breathing. It stays dark, and silent, and she can finally peek into the bedroom, spotting his curled-up form underneath blankets.

Good. Very good.

She steps closer on shaking legs. Blonde hair in darkness, and he is facing the wall instead of her. His right hand is resting next to his face. His breaths are even and deep. She suddenly doesn’t know what to do. If he woke up, she’d be screwed. But his ring sits there right next to his face, and all she has to do …

Maybe do it carefully.

Or screw it, and wrench the ring from his finger before he can react.

She thinks the second option might be a bit more sensible.

So she swallows down any last doubt, and carefully leans over him. He doesn’t move. He keeps breathing. His face is peaceful in his sleep, and he looks as innocent as he always did. The nice sunshine boy sitting in front of her in school, whispering answers to her when a teacher asked her something she didn’t know, letting her copy his homework from time to time. His little acts of kindness, and she wonders who that boy even was. The same one who made fun of her whenever he could. Who made her feel small and insignificant from time to time. Who made her cry with the question of why, of endless what-ifs.

Her breath is quivering when she lets her fingers rest on the ring.

She realizes her mistake too late.

Fingers wrap around her wrist. She yelps, but by then, it’s too late. The momentum of his hard tug has her falling forward, and he grabs her shoulder and slams her against the mattress so hard the soft material can hardly absorb the impact. When she is able to discern what is going on, Adrien is already above her, face just centimeters away as her wrists are pinned to the bed. His naked chest moves with his breaths.

“A nightly surprise visit,” he tells her. “How kind of you.”

For a while, all she can do is stare at his glowing green eyes. He doesn’t look too amused. She isn’t too amused either. With her suit, he must know that she could free herself in a matter of seconds. But it isn’t about the physical fight. It’s the fact that she lost her one chance at getting to him just like that. The realization almost makes her close her eyes in desperation, but she forces herself not to shy away from his stare.

“You looked rather lonely,” she returns, voice so small it almost breaks away.

“You’re right. This bed has plenty of room for two.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a humorless grin. “Strong way of coming on to someone, though. I’m impressed.”

“You know me,” she replies drily, still holding back tears. “I’m the forward kind.”

“And so honest today too.” He keeps holding her eyes. She is suddenly too aware of his weight on her, of how his fingers dig into her wrists, and something inside her wants to give up at last, wants to sink into the feeling and never return. “I’ll be honest with you. I saw you when you were watching Chloé and me. Stalking me?”

“I wanted to steal your ring,” she says, tired of silly games and silly talking, so goddamn tired.

“I guessed so.”

She closes her eyes for good.

“You know, Ladybug. Even if you had managed to do so, what would you have done?”

She breathes. Opens her eyes again. Looks at his face. She knows him so well, and yet she can’t name the emotion coloring his expression. Deep shadows fall over his eyes, and he’s so close that every breath makes her chest brush against his. “What do you mean? I would have had your ring.”

“Yes. So? Do you think you would have won? As long as you had the ring, you would have won?”

She doesn’t answer. Feels her forehead wrinkle.

“Because,” he drawls, “you know it as well as me. What stops me from going to Hawk Moth without the ring?”

She pauses.

“You think he doesn’t know about my secret identity? No, you know that’s not the case. You know that the ring doesn’t matter. Not really”

She ignores the sting in her eyes.

“You know that no matter what happens, I have the final advantage over you.”

She resists the urge to spit him right in the face.

“You know that no matter what happens, I will always win, and you have already lost.”

She won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her burst into desperate tears. She won’t.

“Admit it, bug. We’re playing a game, and we both already know who the winner is. The moment I get your earrings, it’s over. The moment I tell Hawk Moth who you really are, it’s over. And if you happen to snatch my ring away from me? Well, what a shame. But we both know there’s no way you would risk Tom’s wellbeing. He’s such a nice man. And your mom, too. What lovely, kind parents. You can’t let anything happen to them, can you?”

His words leave needles, his words leave her vulnerable and hurting, open wounds and let her bleed until she feels like nothing. The truth is more painful than anything he could have done. She is helpless. This isn’t even a game. This is pure torture. She swore she wouldn’t let herself be broken, and there she is, entirely at his mercy. He won. This bastard won. He won, and she can’t do anything, she can’t –

“In fact,” he purrs, leaning down to her ear until she shivers, “I could do anything I want to you, couldn’t I? I could just tell you to give me your earrings.”

Too much. It’s too much, and her sight gets blurry, and her heart is about to beat out of her chest, and his proximity makes her nauseous.

“Think about it. What choice do you even have? Seems like –”

Before she can properly think about it, she collects all her strength and abruptly tears away one of her hands, bending her arm and smashing her elbow into his ribs to get him off her. A pained cough interrupts him, and he drops to the side, hand pressed over the spot where she hit him. He can’t hold on to anything as he falls down from the bed. The landing leaves a loud thud. With a pained hiss, he curls into himself.

That’s not usual Chat behavior. He would jump up after such an attack right away and return her aggression with a punch of his own, not –

And she just realizes what she did. Because Adrien is still a civilian, and she just hit him with a force that is usually reserved for Chat Noir alone.

She chokes. Jumps to her feet. “Oh god, Adrien, I’m so sorry,” she blurts out, crouching down to him. Nervous hands twitch towards him, but she can’t bring herself to touch him. “Oh god, are you – should I – do you need an ambulance? Please don’t tell me I – Adrien, talk to me, how bad is it?”

“I’m fine,” he hisses through his teeth, one hand still pressed over his injury. “No biggie.”

But she can see the tears in the corners of his eyes. God damn it. She goes to her knees next to him. “Let me have a look at it,” she says. “Take your hand away.”

“I said,” he repeats, tone pressed, “I’m fine.”

“You are clearly not. Take your hand away.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ladybug –”

“For fuck’s sake is right,” she cuts him off, and pries his hand away with more force than necessary. He coughs in pain, but she makes quick work of it, squinting at the wound. In the darkness, she can’t make out much, but the spot is darkened. Her heart drops. She puts a hand over it and feels him shiver violently. She strictly doesn’t wonder if it’s because of the pain or the touch itself.

Gently, she feels for his ribs, and when he tries to move away, she holds him in place with her other hand. “You tryin’ to break some more?” he wheezes, voice cracking. Seeing him this vulnerable is almost unnerving, and Ladybug frowns.

“I’m trying to see if your ribs are broken at all. I don’t think they are. How bad is the pain?”

“For the hundredth time, I’m fine.”

She digs her finger a little bit deeper into the wound. He hisses loudly.

“Relatively fine,” he presses out.

She rolls her eyes. “Do you have a cooling bag?”

“Yeah. Freezer. But I don’t –”

“Let me help you up. Come on.”

He glares at her for so long that she thinks he’ll just bark at her to get lost. But then, he takes the hand she offers him and lets himself be pulled to his feet. If there’s one thing that she should never forget about, then it’s that civilians should never, ever be confronted with the full power this suit can lend her. Not even if that civilian is Chat Noir. The punches and hits they exchange might be painful, but with the suit, any injury can be healed. Without it, not so much. Without it, he is just as vulnerable as any other person.

She carefully sits him down on his couch and turns on the lights. Approaches his freezer, pulls out his cooling bag. Her hands are still shaking slightly. She returns to the couch. Regards him for a moment. His breaths are shallow and hard, his head is tipped back, his eyes are closed. She isn’t surprised to see how fit his body is. Perfect skin only interrupted by the angrily red spot forming over the left side of his ribs. She is pretty sure it will make for an ugly bruise, but as long as all ribs are intact, he should be fine. For a moment, she feels guilty for making his modeling probably harder this way.

Then she remembers that she doesn’t care.

She sits down next to him. He doesn’t move. Only flinches when she carefully puts the cooling bag on the forming bruise. She expected him to immediately grab it from her hands, but he lets her be the one to hold it. Underneath the coldness, his body seems to relax the slightest bit.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Shit, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have …”

“Guess I deserved that one.”

Her eyes flick up to his face. His own are still closed. She bites her lip. “You did,” she admits. “But that doesn’t mean that I can injure a civilian.”

“Yeah. Proper good Ladybug can’t just go around punching people. Except if it’s Chat Noir.”

“Chat Noir is protected by his suit.” She stares at her own hand still holding the cooling bag. “And if I may remind you, Chat Noir is really fond of punching me in the face too.”

“Yeah. Only because you started it.”

“What? I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did. Can’t remember?” He laughs quietly, and at the movement that causes, he winces. “We were fourteen. I told you that you sucked. You told me to shut up. I told you again that you sucked. You punched me.”

She feels herself blush at the memory. “You punched back.”

“What, did you expect me to gleefully take a beating and thank you with a kiss?”

“Well, no, but …” No “but” comes to mind. She stays silent again.

“See.” He finally takes the cooling bag from her fingers. Does it more softly than she expected. The touch makes her swallow a breath. He opens his eyes, turns his head a bit. Looks at her. “Who’s the bad guy now?”

Green eyes. Lips glistening in artificial light. She hates Chat’s guts, and yet he slipped into lonely evenings once or twice, filled her head with thoughts she buried again as quickly as she could. Because their dance always felt charged with something more meaningful. He knows her at her lowest, knows to bring out the worst in her, knows her weakest points, but he never walked away. Not once.

“I asked you to join me,” she whispers. “Years ago. Many times. I asked you to join me.”

He stays silent.

“Is the reason you said no that Hawk Moth knows who you are? Because something could happen to those dear to you?”

His face darkens. A sardonic smile builds on his lips. “Trying to look right through me, are you?”

“Because,” she ignores his bitter words, “we could come up with something. We could stop him together. Even if you don’t know who he really is, we could stop him.”

His smile falls again. “Don’t know who he is …?”

“His civilian self. Because – you don’t, right? You don’t know that.”

He stares at her. A momentary stop, the melody so quiet she can hardly hear it anymore. Steps that come closer, so close their bodies almost start to work together. Their rivalry always felt like a dance, but a dance requires partners, not enemies. A dance only works if both parties move in tandem, and not against each other.

“I said no,” he replies slowly, “because there’s something he can give me.”

It’s more information than she was ever offered. Her heart jumps. “What can he give you?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

He keeps staring. There’s something scarily scrutinizing to his look. There’s something that makes her throat clench.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he repeats, quieter this time.

“And I told you, try me.”

“I know you. Believe me or not, but I know you.” He sets his jaw, looks at the ceiling instead of at her. “I know your goody two-shoes way of thinking. I know you’d tell me it isn’t worth it. I know you’d try to convince me otherwise.”

“Chat – is it … Is it that important to you?”

“It’s everything to me.”

She watches him. Tries to squelch the desperation taking over her heart. “And it’s something I can’t give you?”

“You wouldn’t,” he whispers.

“It can’t be money. You’ve got enough of that.” Her fingers clench and unclench. “It isn’t power. That’s not you.” Her breath is fluttering. She slides closer. He doesn’t move. “Is it … Do you want to save someone?”

He snorts. “What is this? A spontaneous therapy session?”

There’s something so breakable to his voice. Something so fragile that everything inside her becomes a quivering mess. Her heart is racing as she reaches for his face. Maybe she shouldn’t do it. Maybe it’s stupid. But she touches his chin gently, and he complies as she leads him to turn his head to her, as she looks into his eyes. Brightly green, and they look different if the deep shadows of the night don’t draw complex patterns over his face.

“Tell me,” she whispers. “Tell me how to help.”

“You can’t,” he returns quietly.

He still doesn’t move. Her hand is shaking as she lets her fingers wander over his jaw. As she lets her palm rest against his cheek. He exhales, closes his eyes. Almost seems to lean into her touch. Her fingertips prickle. Her words hardly leave her lips.

“Maybe I can. Maybe I want to. Maybe …” She slides even closer. When their thighs touch, he flinches. But he doesn’t move away. “Join me, Chat. Be my partner. Not my enemy.”

His unoccupied hand reaches for hers, hesitant fingers resting on her red-clad knuckles. Ladybug can’t look away from the fragility he shows. It’s the same boy she got to know over years of going to the same class. The same boy who protected Chloé when she put gum on Marinette’s seat, and who never came out with the truth before Nino told her all about it. Who she felt herself fall for on a rainy afternoon when they were fourteen and working on a school project together, and who asked her about the restlessness showing on her face. The same boy who, in another life, could have been so much more than only the nice guy sitting in the row in front of her.

She glances at his lips. She releases a breath. She wants to lean closer, but his voice reaches her before she can.

“Give me your Miraculous.”

Her eyes wander up to his again. His brows furrowed, his own eyes still closed. Her fingers twitch, but he holds her hand in place.

“What?” she breathes.

“If you want to help me, give me your Miraculous.”

Her mouth dries. She leans away. His fingers squeeze hers. He finally opens his eyes, and she isn’t sure what she finds in them.

“But that’s … It’s not what …” She inhales soundly as the realization hits her. “The wish.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You want to … What do you want to do?”

“If you knew, would you give me your Miraculous?”

She withdraws her hand for good. Moves away a bit. “Adrien. Whatever this wish is, it isn’t worth it. Plagg must have told you about it. There are always consequences, no matter what. If you alter reality, reality will demand a sacrifice to restore balance, and –”

He sits up with a groan, pressing the cooling bag against the bruise. “See. I told you.”

“Told me …?”

“That you’d try to convince me otherwise.” His grin is sardonic and looks almost sad as he stares at the balcony’s doors. “Think I know you a tad too well, don’t I?”

All blood leaves her cheeks. She moves even further away. “I’m sure there’s another solution, another –”

“There isn’t. But smart of you not to trust your enemy.” His words are drenched in bitterness. “I wouldn’t either.”

He slipped from her fingers so quickly that she can’t hold on to anything. The longer she tries to find words, the faster they wither on her tongue. But the pace of the song picks up, drums in her ears, and she isn’t surprised when a shimmer of mockery rests in his eyes as he looks at her again.

“Dirty trick, trying to snatch away my Miraculous in my sleep.”

Disappointment stings in her heart. She covers it up by setting her jaw. “I did what I had to do.”

“Well, maybe you inspired me. Who knows when I’ll feel like giving you a visit.” He tilts his head. “Tomorrow? Or in two days? Or in five? Let’s see.”

Back to a silly game she never agreed to play in the first place.

“Maybe I should take your ring,” she hisses, “and wish that you never existed in the first place.”

He laughs. It sounds strained. “That’s harsh. I think you don’t have the heart to do that, though.”

“Yeah? Maybe I do.”

“Right, then,” he drawls. “Do it. Give me a good beating. Take my ring, make the wish. Come on. I’m vulnerable right now. Wouldn’t even be able to run too far.” He smiles at her. “I’m waiting.”

A hot shower washes through her. She really wants to punch him in the face. She really wants to cry out in frustration. Instead, she gets to her feet, coming to a halt before him. Adrien looks up at her. She isn’t sure if that is really a flicker of fear in his eyes, or if he is just mocking her further. She slams her hands onto the backrest, left and right of his head, and leans closer. He doesn’t let go of her eyes.

“Luckily for you, I’m not impulsive enough to strangle you right here and now,” she whispers. “And contrary to you, I won’t even consider altering reality to my whims. You, on the other hand? You are despicable.”

“Says the one breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night to watch me sleep,” he purrs.

Her skin crawls. She pushes herself off the couch. A careful mask. Adrien is gone. What remains is a parody of the warmth she knows hides underneath it all, carefully tucked away and covered by a derisive grin. She feels her expression harden.

“You haven’t won, Agreste,” she says. “Even if you think otherwise. You haven’t won. And I won’t let you win.”

“We’ll see, Ladybug.”

She glares at him. Feels his eyes on her as she steps up to the balcony. Feels his words wash over her like tiny spiders crawling over her spine, never once stopping.

“Have a good night. Hope you won’t have any nightmares.”

She doesn’t answer. Steps out into the night. A mild breeze carries her along as she leaves.

Marinette can’t sleep.

Her head is exploding. She sits in her bed, upper body bent over the notepad in her hands, and tries not to burst into tears. Tikki is resting on her shoulder, rubbing her warm cheek against Marinette’s.

“Maybe Plagg is talking him out of it,” Tikki mumbles. “Because if Adrien was that loyal to Hawk Moth, wouldn’t he have told him right away about your identity?”

Logical thinking is easier than giving in to despair, so Marinette gulps. Then nods. “It seems like Adrien has his own agenda. Or at least some personal beef with Hawk Moth. If he was loyal to Hawk Moth, he would have given me away first chance he got. Instead …” She bites her lip. “Instead he is toying with me.”

Because there is hardly a solution. Because Adrien was right. No matter what she does, he has the upper hand. She could take his Miraculous, and he would still be able to force her into a corner. There is no way to stop him from giving her away. She can’t just get rid of him. She doesn’t have the heart to threaten his family, and she wouldn’t even know how to, seeing as his famous father probably deals with random threats on the daily.

She can’t let herself become a bad person because of him.

Any plan she develops is forlorn. It all is a mess. She breathes, covers her eyes with her palms. Tries not to cry. Just keeps on breathing, and breathing, and –

“You said he hesitated. When you wanted to convince him to join you.”

Tikki’s words make Marinette nod slowly. “He kind of did. He doesn’t believe I could help him, but …”

“Maybe that is your chance. Convince him to join your side.”

Marinette laughs bitterly. Lets her hands sink down again. Every hint of amusement dies down. She stares at her notepad, at her senseless plans. Convince him to join her. How? She can’t promise him to make that wish. She would never do it, no matter what it is about.

“I don’t know how,” she whispers. “He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Marinette. I don’t understand a lot about human affairs, but I know that there is a reason he didn’t give you away yet. What if that reason isn’t conceit …” Tikki’s voice drops down a notch. “But that there’s something about you that makes him hesitate?”

She laughs again, this time shrilly. “What are you suggesting?”

“Adrien isn’t a bad person. There’s a reason Master Fu saw him as worthy. Maybe you can bring out that reason.”

Marinette wants to feel absurd amusement. Instead, she feels herself pause. No matter what she does, he will always have the upper hand. Knowing her identity gives him an advantage. As long as he isn’t on her side, that is.

As long as he isn’t on her side.

Seven years of a senseless dance. Seven years of circling each other, coming closer and drifting away again. Seven years in which Adrien was always polite and nice to her, only giving her his best smiles and friendliest looks. Seven years in which Chat Noir treated her like she was worth absolutely nothing. How can she make all of this undone? How can she forget about the many times he made her feel that worthless?

Maybe she can, if it is for an important reason.

She frowns at her notepad. “Maybe you’re right,” she whispers. “Even though I will have to find something to convince him, and that won’t be easy.”

“I’m sure there must be something. Anything.”

Anything.

Maybe there is.

Chapter Text

Marinette knows a few things about Chat Noir. She knows he likes acting on whims. She knows he likes to underestimate her. She knows he enjoys the thrill of the fight, and as much as she wants to deny it, she enjoys it too. She knows he likes to test her limits. She knows that he has a certain sense of pride, and as much as she hates his guts, he isn’t a coward.

Marinette also knows a few things about Adrien. She knows he appears to be friendly, always a radiating smile on his lips. She knows from Nino that he likes to laugh and can be quite silly. She knows from their own conversations that he can be patient and is a great listener, and that he always takes other people’s opinions into consideration.

It almost doesn’t match up, and it offers her nothing to work with, really.

But she still tries her best. She texts Nino, asking him very inconspicuously when Adrien usually attends his lectures. Because she left something at his place and, if they happen to coincidentally be in the same building at the same time, she’d just tell him right away. Maybe get in a friendly conversation while she’s at it.

Nino replies with three smirk smileys.

She rolls her eyes and sends back a “see none” monkey.

Nino tells her Adrien should be in the aula next to the law department’s library, a quiet place with hardly any people around at any time of the day, and Marinette thanks him excessively, unable to smother her impatience as the lecture just doesn’t seem to end. She jumps up almost immediately when the professor announces they are free to go, and she clutches her bag to her chest as she squeezes herself through the mass of people until she has left the lecture hall.

The law department is in a different building than the art department, and Marinette has to google where exactly to go. Studying fashion design doesn’t really lead her anywhere else than into the same building every single day, after all. She feels a bit lost and out of place as she arrives at the law and economy departments two streets away, and she needs even longer to find the library. Nobody really looks at her, because why should they, but she still feels oddly vulnerable as she pushes open the glass door to the aula, looking for a familiar face.

She needs way too long as she searches for Adrien, her eyes swaying over the mass of people. Constant mumbling surrounds her, some students laughing here and there. The high ceiling is made of glass, and early summer offers rays of sunlight that dance over the hall’s floor.

Adrien sits at a table in one of the corners, earbuds in, frowning at the piece of paper in front of him.

Marinette gulps. Collects all her courage, and swiftly approaches his table. She lets her sketchbook drop down on the table’s surface, and the bang has Adrien lift his head sharply, eyes wide in surprise as he looks up. She shows the most genuine smile she can muster as his surprise turns into wariness, and Adrien removes one of his earbuds.

“Hey,” she says. “Is this seat free?”

He raises an eyebrow. “To what do I owe the honor?”

She shrugs. “Saw you coincidentally. Thought I’d say hi.”

“The art department is ten minutes away.”

“Flattering that you memorized what I’m studying,” she says, trying not to let her voice sound too dry as she sits down across from him.

“Of course I do,” he replies as he keeps watching her. “I’ve always liked your designs.”

She stares. Searches for a hint of malice in his words. As if realizing that this is exactly what was missing from his statement, Adrien shrugs twice and looks back at his paper.

“Wanted to watch the many evil things I might be doing during daytime?”

“No,” she drawls. “Not like we went to the same class for years or something. I gotta work on an assignment.”

He looks up again, narrowing his eyes. “And you wanted to work on it next to me?”

“Well, yes?”

“Just why don’t I buy it?”

She opens her sketchbook. Quickly looks away again and hopes he can’t read the whole truth right from her eyes. “Because maybe, you’re a paranoid kitty? Don’t worry, I won’t randomly kick your ass. If you don’t do anything that forces me to do so, that is.”

“Right,” he replies. “So we’ll just pretend nothing’s wrong and study next to each other as if we’re friends?”

She shrugs, staring at her sketchbook too hard. “I’ve always been friends with you, Adrien. So …”

“Very casual friends.”

“Friends are friends. I don’t discriminate.”

“Cute.”

“Yeah, shut up too.”

He snorts and puts in his earbud, eyes on his paper again.

Marinette didn’t lie. She has to work on an assignment, and she finds herself so nervous the pen is trembling between her fingers. Every now and then, she shoots a look at Adrien. At how hair falls across his forehead, at his furrowed brows. She even catches him sticking out his tongue in concentration from time to time. It’s oddly endearing, and she can’t believe she willingly would think of Chat Noir as endearing in the first place.

She tries to concentrate on her assignment. The constant mumbling in the background gives her a sense of calmness, and it doesn’t take long until her mind is only focused on the dress she is designing. The class is about using unusual patterns, going out of your comfort zone, and some time passes until her first dress is sketched out, a simple form with its main attraction being the mixed patterns adorning it. Still, something about it just isn’t pleasing to the eye. She pouts at it, looks at it from different angles, until a low voice makes her wince.

“Try replacing the polka dots with stripes. Fits the checkered pattern better.”

She stares at Adrien. His eyes are on his paper again. He is constantly crossing out lines and starting sentences anew. “Isn’t that kind of boring?” she forces herself to reply.

“It’s easier on the eye.”

She supposes he has some experience in the fashion business. So she hesitates for a few more seconds before putting his advice into action. When she stares at her altered sketch again, she finds that Adrien was right. It does look more aesthetic, but also doesn’t pop like she wanted it too.

“You aren’t happy,” he states.

“Like I guessed,” she says, turning the sketchbook to him, “it looks boring.”

At that, he looks up, eyeing the sketch for a few seconds. “I think it’s good,” he eventually says. “Sometimes, not standing out too much makes you truly special.”

She snorts. Draws back her sketchbook. “Philosophical words.”

“Just how you know me.”

“Sure thing.”

She doesn’t change anything about the sketch, and instead she continues.

They keep working in silence. For a bit, Marinette concentrates on nothing else but her sketches. When she glances up once, she can see Adrien tapping his pen’s end against his lower lip. She follows the movement with her eyes. A knot builds in her stomach, and she looks at her sketches, looks back at him again. Bites her own lower lip. Allows herself for the tiniest moment to think about what it would have been like to give in that evening, to feel his fingers around her throat as he would have forced his lips on hers. Changing the tune of their dance, but their bodies would have moved in the same synchronicity they always do, and she wonders what kind of kisser he is. The wild type, or the deep and passionate one, and she almost jumps when his lips suddenly move.

“Distracted, bugaboo?”

“No,” she returns quickly, not looking him in the eye. “No. Absolutely not.”

But even as she tries to act as if she is correcting some of her lines, she feels his eyes on her. She strictly doesn’t return his look, though.

“What’s your angle, Marinette?” he asks.

She frowns at her sketchbook. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why are you here right now?”

“I told you –”

“No, no. The real reason.” A careful glance at him tells her that he has tilted his head, narrowed eyes watching her so intently that she shivers. “Trying to get into my head? Trying to see what I’m up to?”

“Or,” she mumbles, “I just want to get to know you.”

“Why?”

She doesn’t know what to make of his tone. She doesn’t know if it was merely a rhetorical question. Still, she looks up at last, meeting his eyes head-on. Doesn’t let herself think too hard about the answer.

“Because I’m trying to put it together. The boy I got to know during five years of school, and the boy that beat me down whenever he could.”

He smiles at her lazily. “You think I’m hiding my true self?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out.” She returns the tilt of his head. “You think I’m hiding my true self?”

His smile doesn’t waver. “I think it’s pretty obvious. If you look for it, that is.”

“That I’m hiding it?”

“Who you truly are.”

She withstands his look. She feels her heart beat up to her throat. There’s something she can’t quite grasp, something that slides from her tongue so quickly she wants to chase after it, and she hears her phone buzz next to them. Alya’s name lights up on the display, and it takes Marinette a moment to realize why she is calling.

“Oh, shit,” she hisses before picking up. “Alya, hi, okay, I’ll be here in five –”

“Nino told me all about it. What was that about ‘I don’t think we’re compatible’?”

Adrien raises an eyebrow, and Marinette quickly lowers the volume of the call, pressing the phone against her ear harder. “I just – can we talk over lunch?”

“Girl, no. Have lunch with him! Would have appreciated a warning, but …”

“Oh, yeah, of course I’ll hurry up! Oh, you’re already in line?” Phone jammed between her cheek and shoulder, Marinette jumps up, collecting her stuff. “No problem, I’ll run!”

“Seriously. I don’t get you. What is it now? You want to hang out with him or not?”

“Maybe! Maybe. I don’t know. Okay, I’ll be there. Bye!” She doesn’t wait for Alya’s reply before ending the call. Adrien is still watching her, slight amusement to his expression. She feels her cheeks turn hot, and she can already expect his mockery before it hits her.

“Not compatible, huh?”

She inhales soundly. “I don’t know. I don’t – maybe we are, I, um – I’m gonna, yeah, I think …”

She expects another mocking answer, but instead, he looks at her. Longer and longer until he finally turns to his paper again. “Have a nice day, Marinette. Thanks for giving me a visit.”

“Yeah. Anytime.” She feels her face turn even hotter. “Not anytime, that is. I don’t even know where you are half of the time, and well, yeah.”

“You could text me, you know.”

He is staring at his paper. She is staring at him. She is trying to make sense of his quiet words. When she doesn’t reply, she hears him clear his throat.

“Or be honest about it, and just tell me you want to surveil me like a criminal.”

Tension yields to familiarity, and she glares at him. “Have a nice day too, Adrien.”

She isn’t sure if he looks after her as she leaves. She doesn’t want to look over her shoulder to find out. Instead, she heads straight for the aula’s doors.

“He’s into you.”

Marinette almost spits out her half-eaten bite of chickpea curry and stares at Alya. “How would you know?”

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Alya says, scraping up some rice with her spoon. “You are exactly his type. Cute, dark hair, all that jazz.”

Marinette releases a gag in return. “I feel so validated, being shamelessly compared to his ex like that.”

“It’s the truth, girl.” Alya wiggles her eyebrows at her. “No, just kidding. But you know as well as me how he looks at you. I saw it. He always did, in fact. It’s why I told you so often to ask him out back in school.”

“He did not,” Marinette mumbles. All appetite is slowly dissipating.

“He did! But you only had eyes for Luka after you two started your lovey-dovey honeymoon phase, and it’s no wonder you and Adrien never talked much after that.” Alya narrows her eyes. “So, why exactly did you want to give him a visit today?”

Marinette tries not to blush. The dining hall of this building is as loud as always – a shared tract for the journalism, linguistics, and history departments. The diversity shows in the mass of people.

“Because,” she eventually replies, “I still think it would be beneficial for my career.”

“Get out with your big words. You want to get in his pants, admit it.”

“I do not,” Marinette hisses. “I really don’t.”

Alya raises an eyebrow. “All right.”

Marinette grits her teeth. Distracts herself with a spoonful of curry, and chews too thoroughly to seem natural. Then she sighs. “Okay, maybe I think we could have a closer friendship than we had in school. Maybe I like something about him. Maybe.”

“See, there we go. How does it feel to be honest?”

“Humiliating.”

“Girl! What’s humiliating about wanting to be friends with a goddamn handsome model who, on top of it all, is a ray of sunshine?”

“Yeah,” Marinette drawls. “A ray of sunshine.”

“What? I mean it! He could use his good looks and money to sleep around, and you know what he does? Total abstinence since he and his ex broke up. That’s what Nino told me, at least.” Alya frowns. “Maybe something is wrong with him?”

Marinette rolls her eyes with a grin. “Wow, Alya. Really.”

“I’m just kidding. He’s a good kid, Marinette.” Alya smiles and nudges her shoulder. “And hey, my boyfriend’s best friend getting together with my best friend? That’s a dream come true. We could have a double wedding.”

“Can we maybe not talk about any kind of wedding yet?”

“Yet. Got it, girl.”

Marinette glowers and lightly hits Alya’s arm. She snickers in return.

Adrien being into her. It would have been exciting back in school, but Alya is right – Marinette lost interest in other boys as soon as she got together with Luka. She didn’t notice any of Adrien’s looks. She didn’t notice too much about him, honestly. It was Chat Noir who got bolder the older they got. Chat Noir who let his eyes wander over her body from time to time, and it bothered her and made her hot all the same, and she almost chokes on the bite of curry she takes as she slowly starts to understand.

She can’t even think about it properly. She can’t even put it into words. Because it almost seems like Chat Noir really is –

She swallows hard. Looks at Alya. “I’m not sure if that really is the case. You know, that he’s into me.”

“Oh, yeah, you don’t have to believe me. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Marinette purses her lips. Keeps poking her food. But attraction could just be lust, and lust is not the greatest means of convincing someone to change sides, is it? Even though the mere thought of Chat Noir lusting after her makes her shiver.

She keeps eating.

[Adrien]: Hot summer nights are the worst, aren’t they? Pretty sure you sleep with your window open, don’t you?

If he really is into her, he has a weird way of showing it.

Marinette stares at the text message. Then she decidedly throws her phone to the side. It’s still 25 degrees outside, and there’s no way in hell she can sleep with a closed window. But it’s either that, or waiting the whole night for Chat Noir to gracefully land in her room. And of course he’d be an asshole about it. She doubts he will appear punctually at midnight. No, it could be two in the night. Or four, or hell, even shortly before her alarm goes off. Who knows? Who the fuck knows?

She sure doesn’t.

“This motherfucker,” she curses under her breath as she paces her room. “Who does he think he is? He knows exactly what he is doing. Being into me? Right, my ass! Either he hates my guts as much as I hate his, or he’s teasing me like a six-year-old with a stupid crush, and it’s not fucking cute.”

Tikki watches her, eyes wide and voice helpless. “Maybe you could think about investing in a fan?”

“That asshole is making me buy a fan, huh?” With clenched fists, Marinette opens her wardrobe. She’s a girl on a mission, and as such, she files through her clothes in record speed. “Let’s see how much he’s into me then, why don’t we? If he’s playing dirty, then so will I.”

Several pieces of clothing land on her bed. Tikki watches, her head snapping back and forth as the pile grows in size. “Into you …?”

“That’s what Alya suggested. Remember? That he’s into me.” Another dress. “The idea alone makes my skin crawl, but maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s just it! Maybe I can seduce him to be on my side.” She shudders. “Even though kissing him would be the worst thing ever happening to me.”

“Seduce him?”

“I don’t know, Tikki! See, I’m trying to find something good about him, something redeemable, and I’m coming up with nothing!”

“Yes, well, depriving you of sleep is pretty evil, I’ve got to admit.”

“Yes, it is.” Marinette steps back to her bed, sorting through her clothes once again. Grins at one of the skirts. “But a girl has her own weapons. Let’s see how well he’ll handle that.”

Because really, if Alya is right, if there is just a shimmer of truth to it – then she might have a chance at getting back at him. A slim, but possible chance.

So she texts him back.

[Marinette]: No, I’m actually afraid of stray cats climbing through the window. So don’t bother. Up for a little study date tomorrow?

Marinette doesn’t think she has ever been the flirty kind. Sure, Luka flirted heavily with her, but he was also very sincere and open about his feelings, and she fell for him quickly. She had her phase of trying to see whose attention she could get as soon as she broke up with Luka. Turns out that there was kind of a lot. The obvious looks, and the obvious smiles, but no one ever got under her skin like Chat did.

Because no one made her feel like fire licked her skin wherever his eyes touched her body.

Because every fight became charged with something that made her breathless, something she couldn’t acknowledge.

Something she might be able to use to her advantage. At least for now.

She could hardly sleep. With her window closed, she thinks she almost hit the 30-degrees mark in her room. She felt like she was suffocating. But at least she could close her eyes without expecting warm fingers to touch her earlobes at any possible moment, and the anger simmering in her gut makes it easy to put on her outfit in the morning, to pay special attention to her makeup and tie her hair up into a high ponytail. Alya left earlier than her for an eight o’clock lecture, and Marinette hurries out of the apartment at ten.

Admittedly, she does feel a bit self-conscious as she walks down the university’s hallways. Her shoes’ low heels clack against the tiles, and she tugs at her skirt from time to time to make sure her butt doesn’t accidentally show, but still. She breathes evenly, trying to absorb all the confidence she can. It will be all right, she tells herself. Just a little test run. Nothing big.

Adrien’s sitting on the same spot as the day prior. The clack of her heels seems to be loud enough to be audible through his earbuds, and he looks up for a moment. She has no idea what she expected. Maybe for his eyes to bulge out the moment he glances at her. Maybe for his jaw to drop. Maybe for his cheeks to assume so much color they would have started to glow.

All she gets is a nod, and then he is looking at the book in front of him again.

Fuck.

“Hey,” she tells him, trying to hide how goddamn stupid she feels as she slowly sits down. Being into her? Right. He looked away so quickly that he hardly noticed anything different about her, she bets. “Being a hardworking student, I see.”

“Like I always am,” he replies soberly. “Slept well?”

The corners of her mouth twitch. “Like a baby.” Or one suffering a heat stroke, rather.

“That’s great. Rather hot tonight, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, I think the temperatures were bearable.”

“Good for you, then.”

She doesn’t let show how much she is fuming. She crosses her legs, curses herself for how much she is sweating in the hot temperatures as her naked thighs are forced to rub against each other. Nothing about this is comfortable at all, and the fact that her plan isn’t working out is just the fucking cherry on top. Damn it. And if she can’t convince him by using his attraction to her –

What is she supposed to do then?

She grits her teeth as she tries to concentrate on her sketches. From time to time, she shoots him a glance, but he seems to be concentrating on his reading. She almost expected him to mock her further. Like, why did she want to study with him again? Surveilling him at long last? Or unable to keep away from him? Or anything?

But he keeps quiet, and thus, she keeps quiet too.

She sways her foot from left to right. When she leans back, she notices a guy two tables away from them glancing at her. Well, at least that is a little success, she guesses. But it just reminds her that she’ll have to find another way of drawing Adrien to her side. Maybe she should go down his route after all. Try to threaten his family. Yeah, and consequently be taken out by Gabriel Agreste’s five hundred bodyguards. She knows that his mother isn’t in the picture anymore, even though they never talked about it. It took her an evening of research at the age of fourteen to learn that she disappeared and never returned. So no way to involve his parents in her possible plans at all.

Marinette can’t control the sigh that tumbles from her lips. At the sound, Adrien looks up.

“You seem kind of tired to me, though.”

“Nope.” She lets the “p” pop. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Good.” He clears his throat as he turns back to his book. “Interesting outfit.”

She pauses, eyes latching onto him. He’s strictly staring at the book again. She swallows gently, collects all the courage she can.

“You like it?”

He snorts. “I see numerous models running around in short skirts on a daily basis.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He snorts again, but he still doesn’t answer.

It’s more telling than any words he could have offered her.

She smothers her grin as she goes back to work. If he glances at her, he is sneaky about it, never once meeting her eyes. And she suddenly realizes that she is trying to seduce Adrien. Chat Noir. And that she might succeed. That the one thing which can still make her win is the fact that he finds her attractive. It’s somehow ridiculous, and it’s somehow so thrilling that her heart beats up to her throat.

Most of all, she isn’t sure how exactly she is supposed to feel about it; but then again, she can’t allow herself to think too hard about it anyway.

At one p.m., she therefore stands up. “Lunch time with Alya,” she explains when he shoots her a glance. “Want to join us?”

“Still got some work to do.”

“All right. Pity.”

She swears it wasn’t her intention. That her clumsiness is just rearing its head once again. But when she picks up her books, she manages to let them glide out of her fingers straight away, and she gives a surprised squeak as they land in front of her feet with a loud bang. Cursing under her breath, she is about to get rid of her bag and carefully bend down without revealing her panties to every single person in the aula while she’s at it, but before she can do so, Adrien already removed his earbuds and gives her a chiding look.

“For how graceful you are during our fights,” he tells her lowly as he crouches down, “you sure are clumsy outside of them.”

She feels her cheeks turn warm. “You don’t have to pick them up.”

He blinks up at her. Somehow, with his wide green eyes and the expression of innocence on his face, with the way he is kneeling in front of her, with how he wouldn’t have to move much to worship her with his lips, moving up and up until –

She swallows down the thought and forces herself to keep talking. “But thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

He moves to stand up. She almost jumps when she feels warm fingers dance over her naked calf. For a second, she thinks it was an accident, but as Adrien rises, his fingers wander on. Slowly finding a path over her lower leg, teasing the inside of her knee, the backside of her thigh. The touches leave a trail of liquid fire pooling right in the pits of her stomach. She has to suck in a quivering breath as he stops at the hem of her skirt, tugging it down the slightest bit. She should be disgusted, but all she can do is watch his face being too close to her, his eyes on her lips for a moment too long. She feels frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

“I like it,” he murmurs, his breath meeting her lips. “Your outfit.”

“You do?” she whispers.

His hand wanders up to the small of her back. His Adam’s apple bobs. His eyes meet hers, and as if having flipped a switch, he suddenly lets go of her again. Hands her the books. Her fingers are trembling slightly as she takes them, and she resists the urge to press her thighs against each other. Allows herself to acknowledge the way his T-shirt emphasizes the curves of his muscles, and she wonders if the bruise is still visible. If he would tremble just like her if she’d let her fingers dance over his skin. What kind of sounds he would make if she’d let her lips wander over his neck, if her wet kisses would make a mess of him.

She wonders what it would take to turn him into a pile of breathlessness, only having eyes for her.

The books almost slip from her fingers again. She presses them against her chest, adjusts the strap of her bag. He is still watching her, and something about it is so thrilling that her heart starts to tumble wildly. The moment breaks at last when she takes a step back, and Adrien clears his throat and sits back down, eyes on his book again.

“See you around,” she says.

He nods.

Her heels clack as she turns around and leaves. In the middle of the aula, she finds the courage to shoot a glance over her shoulder. And sure enough, green eyes are following her, snapping away as soon as he realizes she is looking at him.

She bites her lip to smother her smile.

“So, how was your study date with –” As soon as Alya catches sight of her, she splutters wildly. “Girl! God damn! Who are you trying to kill with this skirt?”

Marinette starts to feel slightly self-conscious as she tugs at the pink fabric with an awkward smile. “Too much? Or rather, uh, too little?”

“Even I am starting to drool over here!” Alya takes a step back, giving her a once-over. “Did I ever tell you that your legs make me jealous as heck? Marinette, you look incredible.” Then she slings an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “Made apparent by the fact that several guys and girls are staring at you like having discovered the eighth wonder of the world.”

Marinette tries not to blush as she inconspicuously surveys the area. Some pairs of eyes look away when she catches them staring, and her face starts to feel hot. “Yeah, uh … Wasn’t exactly my goal, but …”

“What was your goal, then? Making Adrien think about you all night long?”

She jabs her elbow into Alya’s side. “No! I just felt like, you know … changing it up?”

“Changing it up,” Alya repeats slowly. “Not for your study date, but just because you felt like it.”

Marinette’s smile hurts in the corners of her mouth. “Exactly!”

“Like … sudden inspiration. An itch you had to scratch.”

“I mean, yes, if you – wait, no. Absolutely not.”

“An itch only skilled fingers should scratch, really. Did you know that Adrien plays the piano?”

“Al,” Marinette sighs.

“What? I’m sorry, but what am I supposed to think?” They get into line in front of the serving counter. “Like I said, I don’t judge, girl. I’d like a piece of that pretty butt too.”

Marinette has to laugh tiredly. “Maybe he’s into me, but he doesn’t like me too much? Is that possible?”

Alya frowns. “I mean, definitely possible. That kind of attraction that makes you want to punch his nose, right?” Her frown deepens. “Adrien is way too polite for that, though. Or did he say something wrong?”

“No, no. It was just a feeling.”

“And I have a feeling you gotta listen less to your feelings. Adrien does like you. There’s no one he doesn’t like, in fact. I think. Hell, he’s still friends with Chloé Bourgeois, for god’s sake. And if that doesn’t tell you anything, then I don’t know what can.”

Marinette can’t even react to that one. She sighs. “But can you promise me something?”

“Depends.”

“Please stop assuming I want to get in his pants? Please?”

“Sure. I will ignore how suspicious you’re acting and jut accept that you’re lying straight to my face.” Alya snorts. “No, seriously. I’m just teasing you, bestie. If you just want to be friends with him, then sure, go for it. Even though you will severely regret it.”

“Sure I will.”

“You’ll see, girl. You’ll see.”

[Adrien]: Already asleep? Or preparing your outfit for tomorrow?

Asshole. She closes her window, preparing for another night of 30 degrees as she grits her teeth.

[Marinette]: Late-night texts? Very forward. Maybe that’s exactly what I’m doing.

It’s starting to feel like a dangerous balancing act. She could be making herself vulnerable. She could be making a fool of herself right now. But she still remembers the heat his fingertips left on her skin, and she still remembers how he looked at her, and yet, she isn’t sure if she likes it or not. Seducing him to be on her side feels somehow dirty. Maybe it should feel disgusting, too.

She walks to her wardrobe, ignoring Tikki’s looks. Chooses one of her dresses and slips into it as quickly as possible. Makes herself comfortable on the bed and holds up her phone, trying a few different shots until one of them is to her liking.

[Marinette]: Want a little preview?

[Marinette]: [photo]

The photo offers a glance at her legs, the dress’s hem draped over her thighs loosely, her cleavage just bordering on risky. She looks pretty, she thinks. She looks so pretty that Tikki lands on her shoulder and squints at the photo too.

“So, is this the weapon you were talking about?” she asks.

Marinette shrugs. “Alya said he’s into me. We’ll see if he really is.”

“I could imagine. Many Chat Noirs were attracted to their Ladybugs in the past.”

“Their Ladybugs,” Marinette mumbles, feeling a shiver climb down her spine. “As if I belong to him.”

“Well, in some sense, you two do belong together.”

“Do I have any say in that?”

“Of course you do.” Tikki’s antennas droop. “And he does too.”

Before Marinette can reply, her phone buzzes again, and she glances at the message Adrien sent her.

[Adrien]: Your skills behind the camera could use some work.

[Adrien]: See, lighting is important. Like –

[Adrien]: [photo]

[Adrien]: here.

She splutters when she sees the photo, almost dropping the phone in the process. She saw him shirtless when she punched him in the ribs, sure. But she didn’t pay that much attention to his looks back then. The bruise is still visible on his skin, but god damn it. He’s right. Lighting is very important. His sixpack draws shadows that make her heart race, and his long fingers hold up his shirt, and she suddenly can’t stop thinking about what Alya told her.

He plays the piano.

He plays the goddamn piano.

Her face turns hot. She decidedly locks the display and shoves the phone into the mattress. This is pure torture. The image of his perfect abs won’t leave her mind, and what kind of irony is it for god to gift the worst person on earth with the most perfect body?

“Did that photo … agitate you?” Tikki asks.

“Yes,” Marinette hisses. “It agitated me a whole lot. In many unwanted ways.”

“Oh. Oh, so do you need a minute …?”

“God, no!” She swallows thickly. “Okay, yes. Please.”

Tikki nods, eyes glimmering in slight amusement and in slight worry as she floats away. Marinette stares after her. Repeats to herself over and over that she won’t start sexting with Chat. She won’t start sexting with Chat. She won’t.

The thought alone should gross her out. It does, kind of.

She opens the chat again.

[Marinette]: What’s next, a dick pic? So you’re that kind of guy, huh.

[Adrien]: If you ask nicely …

[Adrien]: Who would have thought? My lady is the naughty kind.

[Marinette]: No. I don’t want one. I won’t ask for it either

[Marinette]: I regret sending you that preview in the first place.

[Adrien]: I was just kidding, Marinette. I like your dress. It fits you.

[Adrien]: Hope you have sweet dreams.

She can almost imagine his mocking smirk. She can imagine the way he’d lean down to her ear, whispering what a naughty thing she must be to tell him to shut up while actually craving his cock. How he can remember the way he forced her against the wall, her hips rubbing against his so needily. How her little gasps and moans turned him on so much he would have liked nothing more than to take her there and then.

She’s turned on too.

Fuck, she is really turned on.

What kind of wizardry is this? Just one stupid photo of his abs, and she is going crazy over him? Or maybe it’s the fact that her attempts at seducing him have some impact on her too. Of course they do. God damn it. She’ll just get rid of it – she parts her thighs, bends forward, one arm holding her up – and then go on with her plan – her fingers sneak under the elastics of her panties, and she exhales shakily when she feels how wet she is – and he won’t make her weak like that ever again – she rubs her clit, thighs almost giving out right away.

She won’t think about his skilled fingers replacing hers. She won’t think about the way he’d look at her, watching her reactions with the slightest flicker of mockery. She won’t imagine how much he’d tease her, working her into her high so slowly she’d become a sweaty, cursing mess. She won’t wonder how it would feel to sink on his cock, being filled in a way that would make her whimper helplessly.

If he was to check on her right now, he’d be left sitting outside her window. Green eyes shimmering in moonlight as he could do nothing but watch her on her bed, pleasuring herself to the thought of him. Watching her rock forward, lips parted with her shaky, quiet moans. Watching her close her eyes at the trickling feeling. Watching her all the while, every look he’d grant her as hot as a touch lighting her fire anew.

Maybe she’d even let him in.

Maybe she’d let him ravish her.

Maybe his weight on her body, his lips, his tongue, his cock buried inside her would be the only thing she could think about anymore, and –

She comes with her teeth digging into her lower lip, comes so hard she is seeing stars, fingers coated in her slick arousal as she glances at the window. Nobody is there. She is breathless. It takes her way too long to remove her fingers from her panties again, and with her untainted hand, she checks for new messages.

[Adrien]: Because I will. ;)

Fuck this sexy asshole.

Masturbating to the thought of her enemy should have been humiliating enough. Marinette thought that at least she could get it out of her system this way.

When she sees Adrien the next day, she feels her plan backfire. Because just one look out of amused eyes, one little smirk has her legs shake. She didn’t only masturbate to the thought of him. She wished he was there. She wished he would look at her like that while getting her off. She wished he’d fuck her brains out, and it’s a realization so disturbing that she almost wants to turn on her heels and run as far away as possible.

She doesn’t, though, Because she’s still on a mission. And maybe, being actually turned on by him for whatever unfathomable reason might make the whole ordeal more believable. So she swallows down her doubts, holds onto her bag’s strap harder, and sits down across from him. Same place, same time, the aula filled with chattering people, and his eyes are on her yet again.

“I like your dress.”

“Thanks. I like it too.” She opens one of her books, going through its contents. “I’m impressed you decided to wear a shirt.”

He snorts. “Impressed, or disappointed?”

“Very funny,” she drawls. Stares at her book. “Maybe both.”

Silence. She doesn’t dare glance up. Seconds pass, and she almost winces when Adrien speaks up again.

“What’s your goal?”

“Huh?”

“Your goal. Why are you doing this?”

She tilts her head. Tries not to show how much she is trembling inside. Because Adrien’s easygoing expression has been replaced by a scrutinizing one, and she makes her voice sound lighthearted and void of any aggravated emotions. “What do you mean? Us studying together?”

He stands up so abruptly that she almost moves away with a surprised sound. But she stays where she is, watching as he lifts his chair and sets it down again close to her. His cologne reaches her. His face is too close. His warm palm suddenly resting on her knee has her jump in her seat.

She doesn’t move away.

“This.” He props his cheek on his unoccupied hand. His fingers wander higher, and Marinette feels her heart beat up to her throat. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” she brings out, feeling her breathing quicken as his fingers stop mid-thigh, already grazing the hem of her dress. He squeezes, and her heart flutters, and she has to stop herself from closing her eyes.

“You aren’t stopping me.”

She doesn’t answer. Can hardly retain the gasp that threatens to escape her as his fingers pass her dress’s hem. He leans just a bit closer, scrutinizing eyes on her as her thumb wanders over the inside of her thigh. She feels like she is burning up. He isn’t wrong. Every other time, she would have pushed him away in disgust. She would have told him to get lost. She would have broken free.

She would have never admitted to herself how she is melting under his touch, and for once, she can.

“I thought I’m despicable.” His hand travels higher, squeezing with so much force that she suppresses a whimper. “I thought you would never want to touch me. Not even with a ten-foot pole.”

“Well,” she whispers, “I’m not touching you, am I?”

He releases a quiet laugh. He grabs her thigh, parts her legs so suddenly that the chair almost scrapes over the floor with the sudden force. Marinette hurriedly looks around herself, but nobody seems to pay attention to them. Her head snaps back to Adrien when his fingers come so close to her core her hips almost buck. There’s something heated to his eyes, and she feels her face grow hotter the longer he looks at her.

“We’re in a public place,” he says lowly. “People could hear you. People could notice what is going on. You still don’t want to stop me?”

She isn’t sure which move to make. She isn’t sure what exactly she wants, anyway. If she wants to go back to seeing him as nothing more than her disgusting enemy, or if really, his touch lights up something inside her that she’d rather not acknowledge. She doesn’t know how far to go with this game. How to know that she won. What the prize really is.

“Maybe I just want to get to know you better, Adrien,” she whispers.

He looks at her. Longer, longer. His hand travels back to her knee, slowly, fingers dragging over her skin until he sits up straight again, not letting go of her eyes. She feels her breaths press against her lungs. She sees his eyes narrowing.

“You do know me.”

She inhales. “I don’t think I know you as well as I could. I don’t think I ever took the time to do so.”

A long moment passes. Maybe she lost him for good. Maybe all her work was for naught. But then, he draws his books towards him, giving her knee a pat that makes her wince.

“Very noble of you,” he says. “Just like I know you.”

She nods. Stares at her book again. Squeezes her thighs against each other, and tries not to think about what that hand could have done to her. Tries not to notice how close to each other they still are. Tries to calm down her breathing. Everything inside her is on fire. She should hate him, for god’s sake. This shouldn’t be more than the same silly game he is playing with her. She shouldn’t be affected like she is.

Damn it.

Chapter Text

The tune has changed.

Marinette sees it in his eyes. He is watching her differently now. More carefully, more thoroughly. As if their change in dynamic unnerves him. Maybe she was too bold, too forward. Maybe he really does know her, and he knows that she’d never come on to him like that.

Still.

She feels him wince when she lets her lower leg touch his, skin against skin as she leads her leg higher, and she only draws back at the last minute. She ignores his looks every single time, pretending to be deep into her reading.

She texts him from time to time with nonsensical stuff. Staying on his mind. Never letting him forget about her for too long. It’s nothing risky, nothing suggestive. Just little things. She never knew that passion fruit is one of his favorite tastes, and for whatever reason, this tidbit of information makes her heart jump.

She allows herself from time to time to wonder what his lips would taste like, and while she is at it, her eyes drop down to his mouth. She doesn’t know if he notices. Because she expected him to react with a taunting smile as soon as he did. But he never said anything.

On Friday, she opens the window during the night. Almost hoping for him to confront her.

On Saturday, she forgets why she closed the window in the first place. He never tried anything for more than seven days. Nothing will happen. Surely, nothing will happen.

It’s Sunday.

A thud makes her startle from her half-sleep. It takes her some time to lift her head, seeing a shadow sitting on her windowsill. For a second, she thinks she is dreaming. But green eyes are looking at her, and a leathery tail is flicking from left to right, and the sluggish thought catches up to her.

“Chat?” she whispers.

Chat. In the middle of the night, in her room. To –

Shit.

She sits up in a matter of seconds. Of course she got careless. Of course she thought she could almost taste the final victory, and that there was no way for him to start a counterattack. But as her eyes get used to the darkness, she sees Chat’s half-smile, his ears twitching as he soundlessly lands in her room. She suddenly feels so exposed she’d like nothing more than to hide away from him.

She doesn’t move.

“Hello, princess,” he purrs. “Sorry. Know you’re afraid of stray cats, but I couldn’t hold back. Your room looked so inviting.”

She inhales. Calms down her racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

“You get three guesses.”

Her body tenses up. He sways his makeshift tail in his hand. Up and down, up and down. She follows the movements, and then, she looks into his eyes.

“You weren’t really quiet,” she remarks.

“Guess so.”

“You could have taken them. My earrings. If you had been quieter.”

He doesn’t answer.

The realization rushes through her in a hot wave. His expression is blank, and yet she thinks she can see the shimmer sitting behind it. Maybe she hasn’t lost. Maybe not yet.

She stands up. Slowly and carefully. Trying not to chase him away. “Why did you come here, Chat?”

“I told you –”

“Yes. The real reason. Tell me the real reason.”

Marinette comes to a stop in front of him. Lifts her chin to look into his eyes. He drops his tail. His eyes wander over her face, coming to no halt.

“Whatever game you think you’re playing,” he says, “it isn’t working. So I think it’s time to make all of this end.”

“What game am I playing?” she whispers.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, bugaboo.” But despite his choice of words, his tone speaks a wholly different language.

It’s a gamble. It’s a risky bet. Still, they are so close to each other. So close. When she reaches for his arm, gently splaying her fingers over leather, he winces underneath the touch. Maybe this is the final act. Maybe this is her final chance.

“Maybe you were right, and I really was lying to myself,” she says lowly.

He gives a breathy laugh. “Agreeing with me? That’s so unlike you.”

The grin she shows is gone in a matter of seconds again. She lets her palm wander up his arm, to his shoulder, to his neck. His jawline. He is watching her, but he isn’t moving away. Not even as her fingers arrive at the back of his neck, gently brushing through his hair. Everything about him feels tense and ready to flee, and in return, her own heart stumbles in her chest.

“Chat.” Her own voice sounds foreign to her ears, full of tiny things she never thought she could feel for him. “Tell me. Just tell me one thing. Do you want me?”

He exhales soundly. She doesn’t look away from his eyes. Tries to stay strong. Tries to see this through to the end. Something wraps around her thigh so tightly she shivers, and she doesn’t have to look to know that his tail is tugging her closer, close enough for their bodies to brush. A hand in her hair tilting her head, and she lets him. She doesn’t move as his face comes closer, as his voice breaks over her lips.

“Why are you asking this?” he breathes. “What do you have to gain, little bug?”

She’d like nothing more than to close her eyes, to give in to his touch. She doesn’t, though. She keeps holding his eyes. His tail squeezes her thigh, making her breathe out harshly.

“You,” she manages.

“Me,” he repeats. Nothing but his scent surrounds her. She shudders as his thumb strokes her cheek, as his lips hover above hers. The faintest touch, just short of being a kiss, and her whole body is trembling wildly. “What do you want to do with me, Marinette?”

Her grip on his neck tightens. She doesn’t let him look away. She doesn’t back away.

“Be mine.” Her voice lowers. “Not Hawk Moth’s. Mine. Be mine.”

Seconds pass. And she knows she lost the game as soon as he seems to understand. Too soon, too bold, too direct – it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because whatever there is between them in this moment shatters into pieces, and she can’t even react properly before he has turned her around, body caging her in as he presses her back against the door. Her hand slips from his neck, and she can only watch as his eyes harden, as a taunting grin spreads over his lips.

Her heart is pounding. She has no idea what to do, what to say.

“That’s what you wanted? Tried using your body to pull me to your side?” He grabs her chin and tilts her head as if evaluating her. His tension has turned to a kind of roughness that makes her feel sick to her stomach. “My, Marinette. I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

She has to try. She can’t give up just like that. So she swallows down her tears and ignores the way his tail wanders over the inside of her thigh. “I know we could be a great team.”

“What makes you think I’d want to be on your side?” The grip on her chin gets almost painful as he leans closer. “What makes you think I would ever consider being your partner, huh?”

“You aren’t as bad as you’d like to make me think.”

“Aren’t I? Oh, aren’t I?” His thumb wanders over her lower lip. She hates the neediness she feels. She hates how she wants to run and stay at the same time. “And you aren’t as good as you’d like to make me think. Trying to play your own little mind games? You really think you could have gone through with it?”

She closes his eyes.

“What would you have done? Fucked me into submission?”

Her eyes snap open again, and she swats his hand away. “No. I wouldn’t have.”

His grin is derisive and makes her shiver. “See, Ladybug. I might be despicable, but at least I’m honest about it.”

“That is true. You are despicable.”

Her words don’t seem to impress him. “So let me be honest with you. I love seeing you squirm. I love how you’re never sure when exactly I will pounce. I love the fear in your eyes, and how you glare at me when you realize that you have lost. Yes, just like that.” His claw taps against her chin. She sets her jaw. “Aw, are you mad at me, little bug? Mad that you can’t control me? That you can’t just tell me what to do? I bet you are.”

She notices the anger laced through his every word. It’s unlike him, kind of. She forces herself to think about it. Why it would hurt him so much. Why, in his state of superiority, he wouldn’t just snatch away her earrings and be done with it. What his real goal is.

He still didn’t tell Hawk Moth.

He still didn’t take her Miraculous.

“I’ll be in your head, my lady,” he continues. Claw wandering from her chin to her throat, and she doesn’t flinch away as it arrives at her cleavage, tracing the neckline of her thin shirt. “Every morning. Every evening. Always making you wonder when I’ll have enough of you. Exciting, isn’t it?”

Or he really is just a fucker who likes to toy with her.

“Sleep well.” Before she can react, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Might be your last restful night for a long while.” He steps back, his leathery tail grazing her skin one last time. “I have a lot of free time tomorrow. Maybe I’ll give your parents a visit?” He winks at her, takes another step back. “Or make an akumatization happen? Oh, so many possibilities. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

And with that, he slips out of the window.

Marinette stares after him. Sinks to the floor. Feels her heart pounding and pounding. “I fucked up,” she whispers.

“Marinette, no,” Tikki mumbles as she comes to sit on her shoulder. “No. Chat Noir is just – I don’t know why, but he’s –”

“I hate him. Oh god, I hate him so fucking much.”

“I get that, but –”

“I will break his jaw. I will get that stupid, unbelievable grin right off his face.” Determination fills her from head to toe, and Marinette gets up, approaches her wardrobe. “I will drag him to my side. I won’t let him terrorize my family nor me. This asshole. This goddamn asshole.”

“Marinette … What is your plan?”

“Honestly? No idea. Absolutely no idea.”

It takes her twenty minutes by bus to arrive at his apartment building. She rings his bell. He doesn’t open the door. She rings his bell again. Again. She puts her finger on the button and keeps pressing it for five seconds, six, seven, eight –

“It’s the middle of the night,” Adrien’s voice sounds from the intercom. “Whoever you –”

Anger flares up anew, and she grits her teeth. “Let me in. Now.”

A second of silence. “Marinette?”

“Yes. Let me in.”

“Why should I –”

She presses the doorbell again. The loud buzzing sound can be heard from the intercom, and Adrien groans. “Okay, damn it, okay, whatever.” He hangs up, and another buzz tells her that she can open the door to the building.

Tikki is floating next to her as she pushes the elevator button. “Marinette, I really don’t think this is a good idea! What exactly are you trying to do?”

“Chew him out. Kick his butt. I don’t know. Something.”

“And what good will that do you?”

“It’s not about that! I need this, Tikki. I really do.” As soon as the elevator arrives, she jabs the button to his floor as often as she can. “It’s time to tell him just what exactly I feel about him. And I won’t make it pretty.”

Tikki sighs, but doesn’t protest any further.

As soon as Marinette arrives at the tenth floor, she is already greeted by Adrien’s annoyed face. “Lovely. A surprise visit,” he drawls, and she doesn’t hesitate to brush right past him into his apartment. While she is kicking off her shoes, Adrien just stares at her. “Yeah, right, come in, no problem.”

“You are,” she hisses, stomping right into his living room to get rid of her bag, “the most disgusting person I have ever met.”

Adrien follows her, one eyebrow raised. “Why again are you here right now?”

“No, not even disgusting. Beyond disgusting!” She starts pacing through the room. Doesn’t care that he is watching her all the while. It doesn’t matter. All that matters are the words sitting on her tongue, and the anger exploding in her chest as she glowers at him. “You are everything I despise. Everything. You are annoying, and stupid, and conceited, and worst thing is? Everybody loves you! Everybody loves fucking sunshine child himself, Adrien Agreste!”

“You could have sent me a voice message, you know.”

“And,” she continues breathlessly, “they all think you are so great. So modest and sweet. You aren’t! You are a manipulative little shit. You’re happiest when I’m miserable. What kind of person thinks that is normal?”

Something shifts on his face. “Says the one trying to manipulate me by using her body. Really classy.”

“Oh, fuck you!” she spits. “It’s not my fault that this is the only way you were letting me into your stupid empty head! Because talking about it like adults would have been so difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“Talking?” he repeats. “Are you serious? You wanted to talk me out of being on Hawk Moth’s side? Who do you think you are, Jesus reincarnated?”

“We are supposed to be a team, for fuck’s sake!”

“A team. Right. Says who, you?”

“My kwami, and I bet you your own kwami too! But you are too stubborn and too goddamn disgusting to even consider it, aren’t you?” She tries to catch her breath, but she can’t, the syllables leaving her so fast her body starts to tremble. “You’re trying to get into my head, and worst thing is, you’re succeeding! There, you are in my head, and I can’t get you out! Is that what you tried to do? Is your whole life some fucking game to you, and I’m just a random playing piece you can do with whatever you please?”

This time, he doesn’t respond. Arms crossed, face void of any emotion, he watches her. And she tries not to cry. She tries to bite back everything that has been eating at her, but it all still spills out, leaves her a shivering wreck.

“Stop it, Adrien. Just stop it. End it, I don’t care. Fight me, or do it sneakily, just make stop with your stupid mind games. Tell me what the fuck you want! Rat me out or not, threaten my family or not, just – finally do something.”

She expected mockery. She expected a sneer, expected cold eyes to bathe in her misery. But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything.

And she hates it.

“And there you are again,” it escapes her in shattering syllables. “There you are, acting so high and mighty.” She steps closer to him, jabs a finger against his chest. “I’m not scared of you. I know you, Chat. I’m not scared of you, but what you’re doing? It isn’t a fight. It isn’t fair. You’re a coward, a fucking coward.”

“So are you,” he tells her lowly.

“Maybe. Who cares. I just want it to stop. I just need you to stop ruining my life, goddamn it. I don’t want to hate you! I don’t want to, and still –” She jabs his chest again. “And still you’re forcing me to, and I hate this, and I hate you, and … It’s all your fault, it’s all …”

“What do you think will happen, huh?” he growls, pushing her hand down so forcefully it hurts. “You think telling me hundreds of times how much you hate me will make me give up everything and join your side?”

“Of course not! Because nothing will! Because you are a bastard who can’t see any reason!”

“Yeah? What are you then? Some naïve goody two-shoes who thinks the whole world should revolve around her, huh?”

“Are you stupid? No, I’m not!” They are still close, so close she can spot every single shimmer of anger swirl through his eyes. “I’m just trying to see some fucking good in you, but who would have guessed, there’s nothing! Absolutely nothing redeemable! Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing!”

“Aw, too bad not everyone plays by your tight pretty rules then, isn’t it? Are you going to cry about it, bugaboo?” he sneers, face close enough to make every single one of his words break over her lips, the heat of his body too much to handle, making her dizzy and filling her with blind aggression.

“Fuck you and your condescending attitude, you asshole.”

“Me. Condescending. Don’t make me laugh.” His scent is reaching her nostrils, and she is too aware of how his chest moves with his heavy breaths, too aware of the little specks of light dancing through green irises. Everything inside her trembles, and she feels as if she’s losing herself, more and more so.

“You think you’re not? You think after years of beating me down, ridiculing me, laughing at me, staring at me in that disgusting way of yours, after thinking time and time again that you have so much power over me, that you –”

She is cut off by his hands grabbing her face, by his lips crashing against hers.

She freezes. Her heart beats up to her throat. She can’t give a single sound. Her eyes are still open, and it takes her way too much effort to lift her hands and push him away with a force that makes him stumble backwards. Out of widened eyes, Adrien looks at her. There’s something too vulnerable to his expression, something he isn’t able to bury as quickly as he would have probably liked.

“What about ‘I hate your guts’ made you think you should kiss me?” she whispers.

He gulps. Looks at her lips. Something inside her breaks. Something inside her can’t hold on any longer. She doesn’t need questions. She doesn’t need anything, and she needs it all. Every tiniest bit he can give her.

She steps forward. He doesn’t back away. She pushes him back again, and the couch behind him catches his fall, and she follows him. Straddles his lap. Feels her whole body catch fire before she leans down and kisses him.

He releases a grunt, grabs the back of her head. And she lets him. This time, she lets his hand guide her into a new position. Her lips slide over his, press against them, demand and demand until he finally gives in, parting them for her. She hates how good it feels to have his hands on her waist pull her closer. She hates how the moment his tongue slides over hers, she gives a quivering moan. She hates his sharp inhale, hates how her body presses against his, hates how his fingers find her ass and squeeze so roughly her breath hitches in her throat. He doesn’t give her any time to think at all. Kisses her and kisses her as their bodies move, search, as her hands wander from his neck to his chest.

She wants to taste everything he is. Every tiniest hint of something he could never show her. Hastily, she reaches for the hem of his shirt, tugging and pulling until he finally gets it, letting her pull the fabric off his body. His lips are on hers in a matter of seconds again, and she can’t hold back a sound as her fingers are finally able to explore his stomach, muscles twitching underneath her touches, sounds spilling into her mouth. She tries not to be too rough, his bruise surely still visible. She can’t let herself think about what is happening. She can’t, or the moment would break apart too quickly. She can’t –

A squeal escapes her when arms wrap around her waist and roughly shove her to the side. She almost thinks Adrien came to his senses and realized who exactly he is kissing, but then, his body presses her into the cushions, and he is kissing her again with a desperate hunger that makes her head swirl. She can hardly keep up with his urgency, and yet, her legs wrap around his hips as he spreads kisses over her jaw, his hot breath arriving at her ear.

“Fuck, Marinette. Yes, I want you. I want you so much.”

She shivers. Again, again, and his fingers slip under her shirt. She doesn’t resist as he undresses her. Her mind is somewhere else and perfectly present at once, and her back arches from the couch as a wet kiss is placed on the valley between her breasts, as his fingers trace the underside of her bra.

“Telling me I’m in your head,” he growls, kisses wandering higher, lips latching onto her neck so roughly that she whimpers, “while you’ve been on my mind all the time. Everywhere. You’re everywhere.”

“I don’t know what –” She’s interrupted by her own moan as he roughly cups one of her breasts. “Mm, Adrien, I …”

“Teasing me like that,” his hips grind against her core so hard she almost cries out in bliss, “when you know exactly what effect you have on me, don’t you?”

“I … No, I …”

He kisses a trail down her stomach, glides lower and lower as her breathing quickens. She doesn’t know what to think. She doesn’t know whether to stop him or not, but the choice is already made when his fingers hook into her joggers. Maybe she should feel self-conscious about her hasty choice of clothing, but she can’t. Not when dark eyes look up at her with a hunger that makes her tremble.

She could stop him. Of course she could. But she doesn’t. She watches as he pulls down her joggers, watches as her panties follow. A sudden urge moves her to close her legs, but before she can, he slides from the couch and tugs her closer, forcing her to sit up before him. Forcing her to bare herself to him in the most intimate way she could while he kneels before the couch, kneels before her.

“Telling me you hate me so much,” he breathes, eyes on her core, fingers forcing themselves between her folds so harshly she releases a high-pitched moan, “and being so wet for me nonetheless. Who would have thought?”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, sounding helpless and needy. “All your talking is getting annoying.”

He has the audacity to grin at her from his position. “What would you rather have me do, princess?”

She swallows thickly. Looks at him. Despite his teasing, he looks breathless. Waiting for her to give her command. Maybe winning is becoming boring to him. Maybe what he truly desires is to stop lying to himself, too; to stop playing games that would have never led to anything.

“Show me what a good kitten you can be, Adrien,” she rasps.

She expected him to answer with a sneer. But he doesn’t. Instead, he seems to tremble, eyes still on her as he obediently leans towards her arousal. He kisses her mound softly, so softly her thighs start to tremble, and when his lips close over her clit and suck –

“Fuck,” she hisses, her fingers raking through his hair and pushing him closer. “Oh god, oh fuck –”

She feels his tongue wander lower. He doesn’t seem to mind with how much strength she is holding him in place. Instead, he moans against her folds, grabbing her thighs and pulling her legs over his shoulders. She slides forward in the process, and the new position makes it possible for his tongue to tease her entrance so thoroughly she almost thrashes out underneath his grip.

A number of curses escapes her. Pleasure builds in her abdomen as his tongue keeps up its ministrations, his nose buried in her curls, his moans turning her on so much she feels like she is going to explode on the spot. It almost seems like he is enjoying the experience of eating her out even more than she is, and the thought alone is nearly too much.

“Adrien,” she moans, nails scraping over his scalp. “See, this is so much better than – than you – fuck …”

Her words make him tremble, and it’s a kind of power that makes her tremble in return. He kisses her folds with even more dedication than before, licking and sucking as her hips buckle against the touches. It becomes too much, way too much, and she can’t do anything but pant helplessly in her pleasure, starting to move against his face.

She closes her eyes. Gives into ecstasy. Can hardly control the words tumbling from her throat anymore. “I want you too. I want you so much. Oh fuck, Adrien …”

His lips leave her arousal. She whines at the loss, but his warm fingers replace his tongue immediately. A mewl slides from her mouth when he pushes two digits at once into her, the lewd sound of her wetness around his fingers sending a shudder through her body.

“How?” she hears his voice, dark and low. “How do you want me?”

She doesn’t know how to answer.

“You want me to fuck you, Ladybug?”

“No,” she spits, moving against his fingers, searching for the spark of fire that can wreck her mind. “Yes. I – not like that. Not …”

“I need you to say it. I need you to tell me what you want me to do.”

She whimpers, and she is too far gone to think anyway. All she knows is the feeling of pleasure he is giving her, the way his fingers curl inside her, hitting a spot that makes her shake wildly. Pressing against it and rubbing until she can’t think anymore. It’s too much already – she feels her body tense, feels her thighs shake as an orgasm surges through her body, so deep inside her every thought is washed from her mind, leaving a mess of noises that leave her throat. She whines as the pleasure intensifies again, and she didn’t even notice the cascade of “please”s until lips are suddenly on hers, carrying a taste so foreign she shivers yet again.

“Please what?” he growls.

She can’t open her eyes. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him more deeply. It’s sloppy, her own taste is everywhere, and his moans are the sweetest sound she has ever heard. She almost sobs when his fingers leave her wetness, and a hand on her throat forces her away from his lips.

“You still can’t admit it to yourself, huh,” he whispers. She finally opens her eyes, being met by a desperation that goes right through her. She feels wanted, feels overwhelmed, feels too much, and she doesn’t shy away when his fingers glide over her lips, her slickness leaving a messy trail. “Even though you are that eager for me. You’re a bad liar, Ladybug. You always were.”

She wants to protest, but she can’t. Because his fingers push into her mouth so suddenly she almost draws away. But his hand around her throat holds her back, and she has no choice but to wrap her lips around his fingers, whimpering helplessly as he strokes the roof of her mouth. Her own taste is even more intense this way, and thinking about how these are the same fingers that made her come already –

She worships them with all she’s got. Swirls her tongue around the tip, pushes between them until she presses against the spot where his fingers connect, filling her mouth until she can hardly breathe anymore. Her sight is blurry, but all she wants to see is Adrien’s face contorting in desperate lust anyway.

“You want me,” he says, and it’s as much a question as it is a plea. “You want me to fuck you into the cushions. You want me to fill you the way you deserve. You want me as much as I want you.”

Her mouth is filled with her own taste, and she can’t say anything, can’t protest, can’t say no. She doesn’t have to. She doesn’t have to say anything.

“I need you,” he whispers. “I need you.” He removes his fingers, guides her face until he can kiss her, taking away her breath and her last bit of resistance. “I need you so much.”

She closes her eyes. Feels his forehead against hers. Feels his thumb stroke her neck softly. Feels helpless and powerless, feels like she is melting underneath him, under every single touch. She can’t say it. So she doesn’t. Instead, she lets her hand slide down to his pants until she can cup his erection. Listening to his sharp inhale, kissing the hiss from his lips as she strokes roughly, as she parts her legs for him even more. Eventually, he moves away from her.

“You need me too, don’t you?” he says, and she watches as he unbuckles his belt, and she can’t say anything. Can’t confirm it. Can’t deny it. “You need me. You want me. Else you wouldn’t look at me like this.”

“Like what?” she murmurs, unable to move as he pushes down his pants, his trunks, revealing his hardened length to her. Her heart beats faster, and she bites her lip as she resists the urge to reach forward, to wrap her fingers around his arousal until he’d beg her for more.

“See. Like that. Just like that.” He grabs her thighs. Spreads her legs. She lets him. “Take off your bra. I want to see all of you while I fuck you.”

“You won’t fuck me,” she hisses, and still she opens her bra’s claps, sliding the garment from her body. His eyes are on her breasts, his fingers caress her thighs, and then their eyes lock again.

“What do you think I’ll do then?”

She licks her lips. Doesn’t let go of his eyes, not even as she feels his tip move against her entrance. “You will please me. Worship me.” She moves against him, sees his Adam’s apple bob at her words, feels her own heart beat faster. “You will beg for me. You will go to your knees for me. You won’t fuck me, Adrien. You won’t.”

It seems like he wants to laugh. It seems like he wants to stand up, leave her in coldness. Something tumbles through her, a panic that shatters her so much she reaches for his arm before he can escape, and despite her strong words leaving him awestruck, a shimmer of amusement passes his eyes.

“Condom,” he explains.

“I’m on the pill.” She releases a breath. “And I didn’t … Not since … I know that you didn’t either, I mean, Alya assumed …”

A moment of silence. Her body is aching for him. She feels out of breath. It takes him way too long to return to her, kneeling in front of her until her bends over her body. His cock brushes through her folds, pushes in just the slightest bit. Just enough to make her whine, to make her toss back her head.

“I won’t fuck you,” he repeats her words, face hovering over hers. “And yet, you’re so eager for my cock you won’t even let me go for one single second.”

Maybe she could have given a sharp answer. But then, he finally enters her. Goes deeper, deeper, so deep that everything else loses meaning. She moans, arches her body against his as he leans closer, as his lips are on her cheek, on her jaw, on her ear.

“I will worship you. I will worship you so good you won’t be able to stop thinking about me. I will worship you until you’ll scream my name, my lady.”

He thrusts into her so hard that stars explode behind her closed eyes. A strangled moan leaves her, hands searching for purchase and nails digging into his back as he thrusts again, and again, and again. His hips are meeting hers so harshly she almost starts to cry in sheer pleasure.

“I want to please you, princess,” he purrs into her ear. “Please you until you can’t walk anymore. There’s nothing more beautiful than you. Nothing so enchantingly beautiful.”

He feels so good inside her, so good, every move making fire lick at her anew, warmth travelling from her abdomen to her legs to her chest, pooling and spreading until she whines and sobs, feeling her orgasm shatter her in the most satisfying way she ever felt. He groans as her walls clench around him, as she presses him closer to her, his sweaty skin sliding against hers, but he doesn’t stop. Getting her higher again, higher, and the pleasure doesn’t dissipate. Torturing her once more, making her unable to breathe properly.

“I will beg for you,” he croaks against her ear. “I will beg as much as you like. Beg you to let me kiss you. To let me show you how much I crave you. Is that what you want? Is that what you want me to do?”

“Yes,” she sobs, moves with him, whines and writhes as another orgasm hits her, making her whole body shake. “Yes, fuck, Chat, oh god, Chat –”

“Just like that. See how I can pleasure you? See how you fall apart beneath me?”

But with the way his words are trembling, she wonders if it isn’t him who is falling apart. She doesn’t mind. She meets his thrusts, tilts her head until she can kiss him, open-mouthed and impatient. He moans into her mouth, moves in a rhythm that is familiar to her, deeper and faster and seeking until she feels another orgasm shake her so hard she tenses up completely, sobbing his name into his mouth.

“You feel so good,” he whispers to her, hands on her thighs pushing them further apart to reach even deeper places, to make her eyes roll back and her mouth go slack. “So tight and wet for me. Shit, I want to come inside you. Let me. Let me taint you, Ladybug.”

She can’t talk anymore. All that escapes her are nonsensical sounds. So she nods.

“Good girl,” he growls, and he becomes faster, thrusting into her until her moans become clipped and weak. Waves crash and build up anew as she comes again, and she hears his groans against her ear, thinks in her mindless state that he whispers to her how much he wants her, how much, god so much, and she moans lowly when his movements seem to stutter, seem to eventually still.

He presses his face against the crook of her neck. There’s something so vulnerable to him, something she never saw before, and it takes him endlessly long to go slack above her, being caught by her arms.

For a moment, she doesn’t want to think. For a moment, she just closes her eyes, her head draped over the couch’s backrest and her body twitching in the afterglow. Feeling Adrien’s hot breath against her neck, his weight on her. Sleeping with Luka was mostly soft and gentle, and even if it wasn’t, they sank into each other’s embrace afterwards every single time, bathing in each other’s warmth.

She feels cold.

“You aren’t mine,” she realizes. Lets reality sink in. Slowly, slowly. “You still aren’t mine.”

“I am,” he mumbles against her skin.

“You’re still Hawk Moth’s.”

He doesn’t answer.

She feels sick. She doesn’t know what to do. She pushes his shoulder until he finally sits up, looking at her. Something hard and unforgiving about his expression. Something weak and vulnerable. She wants to kiss him. Wants to get away from him.

“Get off me,” she whispers.

He frowns. Does as he is told. The moment he leaves her heat, she suppresses a hiss. The worry in his eyes pisses her off so much she bites the inside of her cheek.

“Are you –”

“I’m fine. I’m so fucking fine.” She feels so exposed that she grabs her bra and quickly puts it back on. He watches her, worry slowly being replaced by understanding.

“Did you let me fuck you in the belief that it’d convince me to join you? Is that it?”

“You know what? Just –” When she jumps up, her legs give away in a matter of seconds, and Adrien catches her before she can fall. She glowers at him. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say it.”

His hands fly from her, and he holds them up defensively. “Look, Marinette –”

“No. Don’t want to hear it.” She squeezes her thighs together. Snatches her panties and her clothes from the floor. “I’m going to use your bathroom.”

A smirk twitches onto his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You remember where it is?”

“Yes, I do,” she hisses, and hastily slips into her panties as she walks away.

It’s humiliating. So goddamn humiliating. What she let him do to her. What she wanted him to do to her. She wanted this. She did. God, she did so much. But he’s her enemy. No matter how many sweet words he has for her, no matter how much he worships her, he is her enemy.

She ignores the strange feeling between her legs. She looks into his bathroom mirror. Cheeks still rosy. Lips swollen from his kisses. It should be wrong to want him. It is wrong to want him.

Her fingers cramp around the sink.

“Marinette,” Adrien’s voice reaches her from outside. “You’ve been in there for a while. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she barks back.

“Did I hurt you?”

She stares at her reflection. At the expression of surprise taking over, and she glances at the door, no answer coming to mind.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I did. I should have been –”

“You didn’t hurt me.” At least not in the way he thinks.

He stays silent. She closes her eyes. Adjusts her shirt, leans her forehead against the bathroom door.

“I …” Her head is a mess. Everything is a mess. “I think I … It was … I …”

“I didn’t lie,” he says. “I want you.”

She laughs shakily. “Why? I’m your enemy.”

“I know. And still, I want you.”

She shakes her head. Her fingers wrap around the doorhandle. She hesitates, longer, longer, until she hurriedly unlocks the door and steps out. Adrien stumbles back. At least he had the decency to get dressed again.

“And this,” she tells him sharply, “will never happen again.”

He stares. A shimmer of pain. A shimmer of regret. Then his eyes darken. “Unless I become your little pet?”

“No. We’re enemies. We can never be anything else than enemies. I see it now.” She clenches her hands to fists. “I see it too well.”

He laughs, unimpressed. Follows her as she turns around, stepping back into the living room. She can’t look at the couch without shivering like crazy.

“So that’s how it’s going to be, huh,” he says, his voice harsher than it has to be. “Fuck me and toss me to the side. How classy.”

“You kissed me first, you dumbass,” she spits back, slipping into her shoes.

“You kissed me back.” When she wants to open the door, he pushes it shut again with so much force the bang echoes in her ears. He traps her between his body and the door. “You could have told me to stop. At any second. I didn’t force you into anything.”

She grits her teeth. Meets his heady eyes. “So? It’s still wrong.”

“It’s still wrong,” he parrots her, face coming closer to hers. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy it. Tell me I didn’t fuck you so good you came more times than you can count.”

“You’re a pig,” she snaps.

“And you are the most ridiculous hypocrite I have ever seen,” he spits back.

His lips are too close. Fuck. Why can’t she look away? Why does she have to resist the urge to shut him up by kissing him silly? Why can’t she just get him out of her system forever, and never think about him again? Why does she almost give in when he leans closer?

“Don’t,” she whispers.

He stops. Exhales soundly. “What the hell are you doing to me?” he murmurs.

She’d like to know too. Instead of answering, she grabs the doorhandle, and this time, he lets her open the door for good. She doesn’t say goodbye as she leaves, and when she looks over her shoulder, she sees him staring after her, his eyes dark and his lips forming a thin line.

Her body tingles.

She can’t stop hating herself.

She leaves her window open. Nobody appears.

In the morning, she sighs as she puts makeup on the hickey he left. Of course. Asshole. She checks her phone several times, but he didn’t text her.

At midday, she doesn’t visit him in the aula.

At lunch, Alya sends her a scrutinizing look, and when she asks if everything is okay, Marinette can just nod faintly.

In the evening, Alya tells her that Nino and Adrien talked about Marinette. That Adrien is worried about her. To check up on her. And it’s so fucking ridiculous, and so ironic and dumb that Marinette wants to cry. Instead, she shrugs at that bit of information.

“Did something happen?” Alya asks.

“Not really,” Marinette returns.

“Are you –”

“I don’t think we’ll ever get along. He and I.”

Alya stares at her. Leans back on the couch. “Girl, I really don’t get you. What is it now? Do you want to be friends with him, or do you actually not like anything about him?”

She can’t stop thinking about him. She can’t stop craving his kisses. It’s not the sex. It’s the vulnerability he offered her. It’s the moment he broke in her arms. Admitting to her for how long he has wanted her, and making her heart beat wildly in her chest. It’s more than something physical. It’s more, and she can’t let herself feel that way. She can’t.

“He’s a great acquaintance, at least,” she mumbles. “Maybe that’s what we are meant to be. Acquaintances.”

Alya frowns at her. “Right.”

Right.

Chapter Text

Ladybug arrives just when the akumatized villain touches another person, freezing them to a statue of ice in a matter of seconds.

She grits her teeth. Watches out for a shadow in the corner of her eyes. But there’s nothing. No one following her. Yet. Panicking people try to get away from the villain, and Ladybug follows silently as she hides from sight, trying to surmise his movements. Or trying to guess who his target is supposed to be.

“Hello, ice queen.”

She freezes. Expects a touch. Expects lips to come closer. Chat Noir keeps his distance, though. When she turns around, he is swinging his tail up and down in his hand, one shoulder leaned against the wall. His eyes scan her, but his face remains unchanging.

“Funny,” she returns drily. Doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know where they stand. They didn’t talk, didn’t meet, but the memory lasts in her mind, haunts her until all she can do is wait for him to make the first step.

He keeps looking at her. Raises his fingers to his mouth, forms something like a ring, and then –

He whistles so loudly Ladybug winces. So loudly that the villain notices as much, too.

“Oh, you –” Cursing, she swings her yo-yo. Or rather tries to. Because it’s knocked away by a baton, landing on the ground with a harsh thud, and not far away from her, the villain turns around sharply, eyes locking on her. “God damn it, asshole!”

“Woops, you know how it is,” Chat lilts. “All that ice … My hand must have slipped.”

She can hardly dodge the attack when the villain flicks towards her so quickly her eyes almost can’t keep up. A trail of ice builds underneath his feet as he comes closer, and a manic laugh echoes from the walls while Ladybug uses her yo-yo again to escape the immediate danger.

“Don’t think you can get away from me, Ladybug!” the villain yells after her.

She doesn’t really care. First, she’ll have to find a solution. Any way at all to defeat this guy.

But when she lands on a rooftop and hears a thud shortly behind her, she feels oddly reminded of the few times Chat Noir went into it with his all. Almost knocking her down for good. Almost tearing the earrings right out of her grasp. Almost overpowering her, making her heart tremble in wild fear.

“Showing me the cold shoulder?” Chat Noir says. Despite it being summer, the villain’s powers brought ice-cold wind that crawls over her suit’s fabric. “Aw, purr little me.”

It’s familiar. It’s just a tad irritating. “What do we have here? A lonely annoying tomcat?” she returns, taking a step back as she watches him warily. Waiting for the perfect moment to summon her Lucky Charm without it being snatched away by him once again. “Feeling left out, kitten?”

“Can’t deny that I like it when you only pay attention to me,” he all but purrs. Doesn’t leave her any time to think about his remark, because he leaps towards her, baton extended. She ducks underneath it, steps up behind him. Aims her yo-yo at his wrist.

A quick yank has him stumble to the side, but she miscalculated her move severely, she realizes; because his body crashes right into hers. Giving a surprised sound, she trips over his feet, holding onto his arm as she goes down. The impact causes him to lose balance too, and he lands on top of her, the pain of the crash making her head swirl. All air is pressed out of her lungs for a moment, and then she notices his face hovering above hers.

They were in this position numerous times. He sometimes joked about it with unnecessary and gross comments. Mostly, it was just another part of the fight. One she learned to push aside, to ignore.

Albeit he never looked at her out of widened eyes, and he never hesitated as long as he does now.

Ladybug’s thoughts are racing. But her body reacts faster than her mind can. She lunges out and rams her knee into whatever she can reach before pushing him off her and scrambling to her feet. He releases a grunt, but seems to catch up quickly enough to grab her arm and fling her to the side. The force he used makes her fly backwards, and her body hits a nearby chimney, and she is just about to make a run for it after all when Chat pushes his hands against the wall left and right from her face, caging her in.

She stares at him. Stares at the weird shimmer in his green eyes. Watches as he breathes heavily. She swore to herself he wouldn’t get to her. She asked herself just why she did it. Why she gave in. Why she gave up her dignity, why she let herself fall into his embrace like that.

But with his body so close to hers, she is suddenly reminded of the answers too well.

She doesn’t recognize this tune. She doesn’t know what to do. Her heart isn’t calming down, and he is too close. They aren’t touching, and yet, it feels like his look alone is enough to make fire lick at her whole body.

Her hand twitches. She doesn’t dare touch him, and she is drawn to him nonetheless. She is wrenched out of her thoughts when he backs away the slightest bit.

“If the villain sees, Hawk Moth will too,” he tells her quietly.

She pauses. Realizes what she just invited him to do. An icily cold shower washes down her spine, and before he can say anything else, she kicks him in the stomach and pushes him back roughly.

“If the villain sees me kicking your sorry ass?” she sneers. “I bet so.”

Doubled over, he laughs sharply. “Right! Right. Forgot I’m talking to the ice queen herself right here.” He lifts his head, cocks an eyebrow at her. “Well, pretty snowflake. Ready?”

She takes a step back. “Ready for –”

Her question gets lost as he attacks again. This time more forcefully, his baton clashing against the wall when she manages to dodge. A derisive grin hides any other kind of emotion from his face as he comes at her fiercely, giving her no chance to catch her breath. But their rhythm is still off, and their steps seem unfamiliar to her, and she tries her best to slip away before he can catch her for good.

She lunges out with her yo-yo the first chance she gets, and yet, Chat is faster, catching the string with his baton and tugging it away from its path. He uses so much strength that Ladybug is yanked along, stumbling right into him once again. Her face collides with his hard chest, and before she can fall, an arm around her waist keeps her in place.

This would have been the moment he’d reach for his earrings, cold leather against her earlobes. He doesn’t do so, though. He stays still, and she does too. Glances up to him. There’s something too unsure about any move they make. There’s something too unfamiliar to the way he looks at her. She should be disgusted to be in his arms, and yet she is frozen to a statue.

“Yes! Good job restraining her, kitty cat!”

Chat jumps, his cat ears twitching. Ladybug needs a second to recognize the voice behind them. The villain is coming closer, and she feels Chat’s hand tense on her waist. His eyes flicker over her face. Her breath gets stuck for a second. She almost allows herself to think – even though it’s ridiculous, but maybe Chat Noir would – maybe he could finally –

But then, he grabs her waist with both hands, harshly turns her around, and sends her into the villain’s arm with a hard push.

Ladybug stumbles, coldness catching her suit and her heart. The villain is not close enough to reach her immediately, but his hands are already stretched out to get her. Still, that minimal seconds offers her the chance to use her yo-yo, yanking herself to the side in the last possible moment.

“Aw, come on, Ladybug,” the villain yells after her. “Ice-cold to leave me hanging like that!”

Chat looks after her, lazily leaning against his baton. His face is hardened, his eyes are unreadable, and she feels a shower trickle down her spine.

As soon as the purified butterfly flutters towards the sky, she hears someone clapping behind her.

Ladybug glances over her shoulder. Chat stops his clapping, instead watching her out of brightly green eyes, shoulder leaned against a wall and his arms crossed.

“Good job, little bug,” he calls.

She glares at him. “I don’t need your praise.”

“Right,” he drawls. “You don’t.”

After one last look, she finally moves to help up the akuma’s victim, repeating to him over and over again that he has nothing to apologize for. She can see a camera aimed at her from afar, some news station she recognizes, and she doesn’t acknowledge it in the least. Even if someone were to ask questions, she would hardly give any answers anyway.

Somehow, her eyes are drawn back to shadows. Somehow, her body shivers when her eyes meet Chat’s, green eyes sparkling in consuming darkness.

She takes a step towards him. Another one. Another one, noticing the smile building on his lips. Another one, watching as he tilts his head. Another one –

He vanishes into shadows.

She comes to a halt. Her breathing is hard. She splays a hand over her chest, feeling her heart beat against her palm. She can’t let herself feel this way. She can’t let herself fall into something she can’t get out of ever again.

She aims her yo-yo and swings away.

Marinette is staring at the ceiling, feet propped against the wall and hands folded over her stomach. The room is drenched in twilight. She tries to find any unevenness at all on white plaster and finds none. She sways her feet from left to right, from right to left, from left to right.

“What now?” she asks Tikki.

“I don’t know.” Tikki sighs, landing on Marinette’s shoulder. “He doesn’t want to join you.”

“Seems so.”

“But he is clearly fond of you.”

Marinette laughs humorlessly. “You can sleep with people you aren’t fond of too.”

“Then … Are you fond of him?”

Marinette stays silent. Thinks about his lips. Thinks about the way he touched her. Thinks about the way he got on his knees for her. Something about it all makes knots form in her stomach. She can’t deny that she has always been drawn to him. In a way that pissed her off, but nonetheless. The only person hindering her from giving him a real chance is him, after all.

“I don’t get it,” she whispers. “If he isn’t playing games, what is he doing then?”

“I don’t know,” Tikki returns. “Maybe he doesn’t have a real plan either?”

It’d be great if she knew just what the hell he is trying to accomplish. If he is trying to pull her to his side after all, or if what he said is true. That he wants her. That he needs her. If he just meant it in a physical way, or if she wasn’t the only one feeling the spark when he kissed her like that.

She glances at her window. It’s opened. If he was set on torturing her, he could.

He kind of is.

She gives up. Takes her phone and dials Alya’s number. Alya picks up after three rings, her voice worried. “Marinette, hi. Are you okay?”

“Can I be honest? Not too much.” She sighs. “Sorry, I really don’t want to interrupt your couple evening. But can I maybe come over for a glass of wine?”

“I could come home –”

“No, no, don’t bother. I’ll be gone in two hours again. If Nino is okay with me turning up, of course.”

“He is nodding wildly right now. I’m not sure, but I think he wouldn’t kick you out right away.”

A smile spreads over Marinette’s lips. “Tell him he’s the best. I’ll be there in half an hour, okay?”

“Sure. Bring the white wine from the fridge. Gotta empty that bottle sooner or later, after all.”

As soon as she ends the call, Tikki hovers in front of her face, big eyes full of concern. “Marinette … I’m sorry I can’t help you. If I were able to talk to Plagg … He knows Adrien better than we do, after all.”

“I know,” Marinette mumbles as she steps into the living room. “Did you never see Plagg? Not even in school?”

“No. I have a feeling Hawk Moth made sure no other kwami would be able to sense Plagg. It’s usually a fallback mechanism to ensure a villain can’t find kwamis, but Hawk Moth likes to abuse certain rules in general.” Tikki gives a sound. “I can’t believe it either. That I never knew he’s right in front of me.”

Really, Marinette can understand that sentiment.

As soon as she arrives at Nino’s apartment building, she gets a text from Alya. Marinette is already ringing the doorbell as she reads it.

[Alya]: SO if u don’t want to see a certain person you better turn ur ass around rn

[Marinette]: huh? I’m already in front of the door

[Alya]: u still have a chance to run tho …….! Your fav rich kid is here

Marinette frowns at the message, and the door is opened in front of her, and she is greeted by the exact face Alya wanted to save her from. Her eyes meet Adrien’s. She practically sees his expression drop for a split second before he puts up a weird-looking smile. “Oh, huh. What a surprise.”

“A surprise indeed,” she returns slowly.

She contemplates turning around and leaving right this instant. They keep looking at each other though, and eventually, Adrien takes a step to the side to let her in. She can’t move. Not before Alya’s voice joins them, that is.

“Oh, yeah, looks like both of you coincidentally needed a drink at the same evening.” Alya glares over her shoulder. “And seems like somebody failed to inform me who was giving us a visit. So I could ask if all four of us hanging out would be okay, you see. What a pity and stuff.”

Marinette sets her jaw. Steps in and kicks off her shoes. From the living room’s door, Nino grins stiffly at her, the apology in his eyes way too noticeable. She can’t even be mad at him, really. Because how could it be his fault? Of course Adrien would play the innocent, worried sunshine boy in front of him, and of course he wouldn’t let Nino suspect just one tiny thing. Nothing surprising about it.

“That’s fine,” Marinette says. “Don’t worry. I don’t have a problem with Adrien being here. Anything but.”

“Same goes for me.”

She resists the urge to spit at his perfectly innocent words, to sneer at his perfectly innocent expression. She doesn’t trust the smile he sends her. So she strides right into the kitchen, pulls the white wine from her bag, and snatches the first glass she can from the cupboard. Steps sound behind her. She is more than glad that it’s Alya who approaches her with worry in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette,” she whispers. “Nino seriously had no clue. You know, we can also just pack our things and go. If you don’t want to see him for whatever reason.”

She’d rather smash her forehead against the wall than admit defeat like that. “No,” she therefore returns. “Like I said. No problem.”

“You sure? You don’t seem like it’s no problem at all, y’know.”

Marinette grits her teeth. The bottle makes a loud sound as it meets the counter. “It isn’t,” she hisses.

“Okay! Okay.” Holding up her hands, Alya takes a step back. “Aggression, huh? Need some Ultimate Mecha Strike IV to get rid of it?”

Marinette stares at her. Takes a gulp of her wine. “Yes,” she eventually professes.

“Good. Because that’s what Adrien wanted to play, too.” Alya grabs the bottle of wine from over the counter and pours herself her own glass. “Seems like both of you need to let off some steam, I guess.”

Marinette ignores her weird undertone and resigns herself to her miserable fate.

When they get to the living room, Nino and Adrien are talking about something so quietly that she can’t really make out anything. The TV is turned on in front of them, showing Ultimate Mecha Strike IV’s title screen. Marinette doesn’t hesitate for too long as she lets herself fall into the cushions next to Nino, her glass clinking as she puts it down on the table. She grabs the controller sitting next to her glass and presses the button to start the game.

“Tournament mode, one versus one?” she barks at the other two who watch her out of widened eyes.

“Sure,” Nino gulps. “Sure thing. Yeah. Good idea, dudette.”

Marinette snaps her head back to the TV, sandwiching Nino between Adrien and her as she makes some space for Alya on the narrow couch. Four persons is the strict maximum number of people, they determined after countless evenings trying to make more than that work. Anyway, Marinette doesn’t think about who is sitting at the edge of the couch as she selects tournament mode. She searches her name on the endless list of people having added their usernames, and when she hears a snort from the left, she wrenches her head around.

“What?” she snarls.

Adrien clears his throat. “Nothing.”

“What? You find something funny?”

“I don’t, I don’t.” A second of silence. “Avocadorable.”

Nino audibly swallows a sound. Alya hides something behind a cough. Marinette’s fingers cramp around the controller, and she keeps glaring at Adrien.

“I was fourteen,” she says slowly. “And I thought I was being funny. If you judge, I’m going to kick your ass.”

She almost expected him to save face and answer with a nervous laugh and a little cute apology. Instead, he smirks at her. “Oh, you think you’ll kick my ass? Let’s see about that, Miss Avocadorable.”

Her cheeks turn hot. “You’ll eat those words.”

“Looking forward to it, then.”

“Bro,” Nino interrupts them, his tone careful. “Jus’ so you know, but nobody wants to challenge Marinette. She’s …” His voice drops down to a whisper. “She’s hiding her mad skills behind a cutesy username. That girl is a war machine.”

“I wouldn’t even be surprised,” Adrien answers, and before anyone can react, he picks up the second controller and chooses his character. Of course he’d treat even this competition as a joke and select one of the most harmless-looking characters in the game; a blonde princess in a pink dress. Marinette isn’t sure if he knows a thing or two about the metagame – because truth be told, his character is one of the more powerful ones – or if he is simply mocking her once again.

Marinette ignores the funny look Alya is giving her. Instead, she bends forward and gives Adrien a long glare. “Ready? Or already trembling with fear?”

“Ready when you are,” he replies, eyes lighting up with the challenge she is offering him.

Right. She selects one of the most linear stages and starts the game.

It only takes a few seconds until Marinette can gauge his level of expertise. He seems to know about some advanced techniques, and he knows his character’s moveset quite well. From time to time, his inputs are a bit sluggish though. It’s something she is able to punish time and time again, especially since his character is based on agility whereas hers is based on speed and getting in those little jabs every time he isn’t vigilant enough.

All in all, he isn’t a bad opponent. Anything but.

She gives it her all, concentrating on every little move he makes. Trying to figure out his usual attack patterns. Reacting to every tiny mistake that slips past him, pressuring him until she can almost feel that he is getting nervous. She gets two of three stocks down, and he managed to punch her from the stage once, and she is pretty sure that her next hit will seal his fate for good.

So she does the sensible thing and starts taunting him.

“Scared of coming closer to me, princess?”

Alya snorts next to them. “If I were you, I’d think about how to dodge her special attack. Just a little tip, sunshine.”

With a sniff, Adrien moves his character closer to her, then away again. He repeats that process numerous times. Testing her reactions, testing what she is going to do, but Marinette doesn’t let herself get nervous.

“Who’s the scared one know?” he grumbles, moving back again.

“I think,” she returns, “the one not daring to come closer, huh?”

He stops. A second too long. A second she knows how to use. Without hesitating any longer, she flicks the stick to the left, presses the button for her special attack, and –

“Damn it, you really are giving this guy hell!”

She shrieks.

Still, the special attack didn’t miss. Adrien’s character is flung from the stage, and behind her, someone cheers loudly. She turns around on the couch to be crushed by a pair of strong arms. It’s one of Nino’s roommates, his chin-long hair tickling her cheek.

“You almost made me lose,” she grumbles. “Thank you so much, Manuel.”

“Very welcome. And see, you still won.” He pats her shoulder as he moves away again, grinning at her. “Never managed to beat Adrien at a match, y’know.”

“You know each other,” Adrien joins the conversation. His tone is pleasant, but there’s something to his eyes Marinette recognizes, something that almost makes her shudder.

“Course they do, bro.” Nino shrugs. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah. He likes to invite himself to our pre-drinking sessions.” She gives Manuel a good-natured smile. “Wanna join us?”

“Sure thing.” He looks at the couch. “All right. Whose lap can I sit on? Alya’s?”

“In your dreams, beanie boy.” Alya gives him a raised eyebrow. “You should think about investing in a bigger couch, you know.”

“What you’ve been saying for two years, babe,” says Nino, shrugging twice. “C’mon, bro. Sit on my lap.”

“How very romantic,” Manuel lilts. He rubs the top of Marinette’s head until she dodges it with a little squeak. “Or I sit on Marinette’s lap?”

“And you distract me from kicking Adrien’s butt? Right,” she drawls.

“So, that was a yes?”

“It was a no.”

“Ah, you want to sit on my lap instead? Why, you should have just said so from the start! Always knew there was something between us.”

She rolls her eyes. “But of course you would –”

A bang. Marinette wrenches her head around to see Adrien hiss as he rubs his knee. He is suddenly standing, and when he seems to notice that all eyes are on him, he shows a rigid smile. “Um, yeah, don’t worry. Gotta catch some fresh air. No need for any laps. Or sitting on laps, or … you know, whatever.”

Weird silence sets in. Manuel clears his throat. “I can sit on the floor no problem. Was just joking. So …”

“No, no, it’s fine! It’s fine.” With that, Adrien sharply turns around and heads for the balcony at the other side of the room. All of them stare after him. Nino moves to stand up, but Marinette holds him back by grabbing his arm and giving him a long look.

“I … I’ll talk to him,” she mumbles.

“Well,” Alya says behind her. “Don’t you think his best friend might be a better choice?”

Nino clears his throat. “Yeah, uh … Maybe you should go, dudette.”

Weird silence again. Marinette feels a lump in her throat. On the TV, her character is still doing his victory dance. She sets down the controller, ignores Alya’s piercing looks, and takes a step towards the balcony. “Just … keep playing, will you? I’ll be right back.”

“Right,” drawls Alya. “Good luck, I guess.”

Marinette shows a smile which she drops in a matter of seconds again.

Nino’s balcony is just as tiny as the one Alya and she own. Hardly enough space for more than four people, really. Marinette doesn’t let herself hesitate before she opens the door and steps outside. A mild summer night greets her. Adrien is leaning over the railing, crossed arms resting on metal. When she closes the door behind her, he doesn’t look up.

“Don’t say it.”

She bites her tongue. He still isn’t looking at her. She doesn’t know what to think. It’s weird that in some kind of way, she wants to be as close to him as she can. Even though she knows it’s ridiculous.

She knows it is.

“Look, I don’t know why … Why her.” He rakes a hand through his hair, burying his face in his crossed arms. “Why her of all people.”

She could keep quiet. She could let him go on. She wants to hear it, and somehow, she is afraid to know the whole truth. So she gives a shuttering breath, steels herself. “Why her, what?”

He doesn’t move. His expression is hidden from her. She tarries, sighs, comes closer. Leans over the railing next to him, just enough distance not to touch him in any way.

“If you’re being jealous right now,” she whispers, “then that’s just ridiculous, you know.”

He snorts. Still doesn’t look up. “Jealous, huh? You’d want me to be jealous?”

“Like I said. No. It would be ridiculous.”

“Right.”

He still doesn’t look up. She almost wonders why. He could have reacted with a sneer, could have denied it all. Maybe he is more honest than she thought. Maybe there’s a side to him he never showed her before, and now, neither of them knows how to proceed.

She looks at her hands. Fiddles with her fingers. Scratches over her pale nails. The sky is dark and starless.

“I didn’t sleep with you to convince you to join me,” she whispers into darkness, somehow glad that his bright eyes aren’t on her as the truth cuts her open from inside. “I slept with you because I wanted to.”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t react.

“But I can’t keep destroying myself over someone I can never have.”

“Who says you can never have me?” he returns quietly, solemnly.

“You. As long as you are Hawk Moth’s, you can’t be mine.”

Silence again. He doesn’t deny it. She can’t hold back the painful smile on her lips. She brushes some strands of hair behind her ear, keeps eying her fingers. Her short nails. The many little edges she overlooked when shortening them.

“Sometimes I’m trying to imagine it,” she goes on, voice quiet and heart beating. “What it would have been like to be a team. You and me against the world, you know.”

He snorts. It lacks any sneer. “That’s quite cheesy, my lady.”

“Well, it would have been the truth.” She gnaws at her lower lip. “I think I could have fallen for you. No – I think I would have. I certainly would have.”

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Knowing a thing or two about you. That’s all.”

Trickling silence again. Then he moves. Slowly looks up. Slowly looks at her. His eyes are dark in the night, and his neck has assumed some color. He doesn’t lean closer to her. She doesn’t know if she would have backed away.

“After all,” she breathes, and she can’t hold back anymore, can’t stop her hand from sliding closer to his, can’t stop fingertips from touching his wrist while she watches him flinch slightly, “there’s a reason we make for such great enemies.”

His laugh is weak, almost tired. “What are you doing, Marinette?”

A good question. A really good question. Her fingers wander lower, over the back of his hand. He doesn’t stop her. Doesn’t retract his hand when her fingers squeeze themselves between his, when they interlace. She shouldn’t do it. She should turn around and walk away. She should hate him, but as much as she tries to, she can’t. Not when it’s so apparent that he didn’t lie.

That there’s something between them. Something she never dared name.

Instead of reacting to his question, she strictly watches their hands. The way their fingers fit perfectly into each other, the way his thumb tentatively wanders over her little finger, so softly that she shivers.

“In which way do you want me, Adrien?” she asks, her voice almost breaking away.

The movement of his thumb stops. She can’t bring herself to look him in the eye. She is shivering as she continues.

“You said you want me. In a physical way?”

His thumb presses against her skin. He still doesn’t answer. She feels the urge to turn around and run away, but their fingers are still interlaced, and his thumb holds her little finger in place, and a breath tumbles through her lungs.

“Only in a physical way?” She finally dares look up. Sees him staring at her, his expression so unusually sincere, full of so many things she can’t even begin to name. She should control her reactions, she should sound unflappable; and yet her heart is racing and her words are unsure, shaking over her tongue. “Or …?”

“Or?” he mutters, eyes wandering down to her lips for the briefest of moments.

“Or did you also think about it? Being my partner, not my enemy?”

His thumb presses against her skin harder. “I thought you said it was wrong. What we did.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

He laughs. It’s a clipped and tired sound. “If I choose to join you?”

She holds on to his eyes. “If you choose to let me help you. Whatever it is, we can find a solution.”

“You are very adamant about this, huh.” Something seems off about his smile. Something makes her shiver. “But I get it. I really do.”

Her hand is still on his. Goosebumps rise on her skin. She meant it, every single word, and yet she feels him slip away again. Her thought is affirmed when a veil of bitterness covers any corner of his face.

“You regret it so much,” he says quietly, “that you search for any possibility at all to make yourself feel better.”

She tries to understand, but no answer will come to mind.

“You want to convince yourself that what happened didn’t go against every pretty rule you set for yourself, right? It’s not about me, is it? It’s about you.”

She frowns. Resists the urge to remove her hand. “It’s about us.”

“Is it? Really, is it?” He sneers. Draws back his hand at last. “Because if it were, your solution wouldn’t be to forget about the wish.”

Tiredness settles into her bones. She looks back at the view before her. “I don’t even know what that wish is.”

“There’s a reason I am not telling you.”

“Yes. Because you don’t trust me.”

He snorts. “Why should I?”

She breathes. Turns her head. Watches his profile. His furrowed brows, the hard line his lips form. His skin, not as flawless as photos tend to make it look. His eyes, full of something Marinette tries so hard to understand, again and again.

“If you hated me,” she says, “you would have given me away to Hawk Moth already. But you didn’t.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you?” Her body is shivering in his proximity, and even though their hands don’t touch anymore, they are close enough that their shoulders brush when moving the slightest centimeter. He doesn’t shy away. “Because you want to toy with me? Is that really it?”

“It is,” he replies, turning back his head to look at her. When their eyes meet, she feels a current shoot down her spine.

“Really,” she mumbles. “Even though that wish is so important to you?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Even though it means everything to you? Even though …” Their faces are so close. She leans towards him. Only a careful, tiny bit. He stays where he is. He doesn’t move at all. “You still didn’t take my Miraculous. You never did.”

“I still could,” he mutters.

“Do it, then. Try to take it from me.”

He releases a shuddering breath. He keeps looking at her. Doesn’t touch her in any way, and yet she feels like she is melting on the spot. Daring him to make that last step. Daring him to show her what this stupid game really is about.

“Now,” she whispers. “Do it.”

She almost expected him to react with violent vehemence. But instead, he slowly lifts his hand, and his fingertips ghost over her jaw, wander to her ear. She watches him. She watches the hunger in green eyes. She watches the way his eyes get stuck on her lips, and she almost thinks he is going to lean forward, and –

Someone bellows inside. Nino.

Marinette flinches back. Stares at the balcony door. She can’t see the couch from where she is standing, but Nino’s following words explain the situation well enough.

“Dude! Seriously, stop comin’ after me!”

She suppresses a shake of her head. Looks at Adrien again. He has set his jaw, and when their eyes meet, she doesn’t know what to do with the coldness in green irises.

Before she can open her mouth to say something, he has already turned away and opens the door to go inside.

Marinette breathes. Tries to calm down her racing heart. Because it’s only the truth. Because he could have ended it. Because there must be a reason he is hesitating, and slowly, she is admitting to herself that she might know what that reason could be.

She bites her lip. Clenches her hands to fists. Unclenches them, and then she follows him inside.

Adrien is standing next to the couch, watching what is going on in the game. The three others are occupied with their fierce match, one that makes Marinette lose sight of what exactly is happening on screen. There are just too many moving characters, Nino releasing angry grunts and Alya snickering whenever she manages to land a hit.

“Sorry, guys,” Manuel says, wildly moving the controller in his hands from left to right. “I’ll be on the floor in two seconds. Just lemme kick Nino’s ass first.”

Marinette looks at Adrien, but he doesn’t react. Doesn’t look at her. She feels goosebumps rise on her skin, but she doesn’t dare come closer, doesn’t dare do anything at all.

Adrien is the first one to leave. Marinette is still in the middle of a match with Nino when Adrien announces his departure, and she quickly pauses the game to look over her shoulder, finding him standing in the living room’s doorway, sending her a look she doesn’t quite know what to do with. Alya and Manuel are loudly talking in the kitchen, and Marinette’s heart beats up to her throat, and she just doesn’t know how to control the many feelings dancing through her stomach.

“Aw, man, come on,” Nino sighs as he approaches Adrien. “Could have at least stayed a bit longer. Nothing better than spontaneous hangouts, right?”

“Very generous,” Adrien laughs, crinkles building in the corners of his eyes. “Next time, maybe. Early lecture tomorrow, you know.”

They hug, patting each other’s backs, and Marinette watches. Feeling almost awkward. When Nino backs away again, Adrien’s eyes are on her.

She doesn’t know what kind of face to make, or what to say; and her voice scratches in her throat when she comes up with something, anything at all.

“Was nice to see you,” she manages.

“You too,” he returns.

She is still kneeling on the couch, leaning against the backrest. Nino looks from her to Adrien and back again, and, clearing his throat, he eventually steps out of the room. “Text me, bro,” he says, giving Adrien one last pat on the shoulder.

So there they are, left in weird silence. Marinette tries to find fitting words. But their usually clearly refined positions are suddenly all over the place, and it’s a kind of situation she never had to handle before.

It’s almost scary, almost makes her angry, and yet she stays silent.

“Well then,” Adrien mumbles, about to turn away.

Something takes hold of her heart, squeezes and urges her on and she jumps up from the couch before she can control herself. The sound of her steps makes Adrien turn back to her, face a mask of carefulness, hands hidden in his pockets, and words fail her at once as she comes to a halt again. Too much distance between them, and she suddenly feels stupid and out of place and unable to make anything right again.

Nothing fits the rhythm they should fall into, and everything seems off, and there she is, helplessly trying to regain just an ounce of control.

“I,” she brings out. “Just …”

A tiny step towards him. He seems to tense, but he doesn’t move away.

“People are supposed to … People are supposed to hug when they leave.”

A grin twitches onto his lips. A second of odd amusement that dissipates again. “You want to hug me?”

Well, at least this is familiar territory. She shrugs, plays with the hem of her shirt. “I’m just following proper etiquette.”

“Just how I know my lady. Always following the rules.”

She holds his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He approaches her. She doesn’t shy away. “Absolutely nothing.” There’s something too tense to his movements, and she feels her own heart speed up, and everything feels just so off-key and wrong. “So? Gonna hug me or not?”

“I’m already regretting it,” she mumbles. And yet, she moves towards him until she can carefully reach for him, until she can lift her arms, until she can just turn off her racing thoughts and wrap her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer.

She thought he’d retain his stiff pose. But only seconds pass until his arms are around her waist, and it feels like he is entirely melting against her, and his sudden shivering breath makes a shudder climb down her spine. His scent surrounds her, and she should hate it, should be disgusted, but all she can do is inhale deeply until her mind is filled with nothing but him.

One of his hands wanders between her shoulder blades, presses her closer, and his warm breath against her ear has her legs shaking.

“No, my lady. Not only in a physical way.”

For a moment, she doesn’t get it. For a moment, she stays where she is, and a light kiss is pressed to her temple, and then, Adrien moves away again. Her arms uselessly flop to her sides, and she watches him. Not shooting her one single glance anymore, he says his goodbyes to Alya, to Manuel, and then he slips out of the apartment for good.

Not only in a physical way.

Her skin prickles. She doesn’t know what to do with herself.

She tries to keep her breathing even.

Chapter Text

The early morning’s sun is more forgiving than the heat that is sure to sneak up on them later on, and Marinette enjoys her coffee while sitting on her balcony, watching people on the street passing by the building. Alya is staring at her phone, and it takes some time until her voice breaks the silence.

“You remember the get-together Nino and I were planning for the weekend?”

Marinette hums. “I do.”

“Yeah. So, just for your information, Nino invited Adrien.”

She does her best not to spit out her coffee. Instead, she doesn’t show any reaction at all. “Good for you. And you’re telling me this … why again?”

“Well,” Alya drawls as she sets down her phone, giving Marinette a long look. “Maybe because yesterday evening was one of the most awkward evenings of my whole life, and I’m not sure if I want to cringe violently while watching you two yet again?”

Marinette flinches. “It wasn’t that bad,” she mumbles.

“You gotta admit, it kind of was.”

“We were acting totally normal.” She blows out a breath. “So normal.”

“Normal, huh,” Alya repeats, her stern look enough to make Marinette hide away. “Seriously, girl. Something about you two was just too weird, so I wanted to give you a warning. Or … ask if it’s even okay for him to turn up again.”

Shrugging, Marinette sways the cup in her hand from left to right. “Thanks for the warning, then. But it’s all right. I don’t mind.”

Alya keeps looking at her, frowning just the slightest bit. “I’ve got a feeling something happened between you. And I mean something major. Because you just … After graduation, you never really mentioned him. Not once. And all of a sudden, you seem so restless when we talk about him.”

Marinette sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Sometimes I hate how well you know me.”

“Know you do.” Alya tilts her head. “So, you gonna tell me what exactly happened?”

Marinette makes a face. Looks at the street below them. Clears her throat. “Do you ever feel like … Or did you ever … Did you ever think there’s a side to him he doesn’t usually show? That … I don’t know, that his kindness is just an act?”

Alya is quiet for a long moment. Her feet are propped on the railing, her nails are painted dark red.

“Honestly? I don’t think so,” she eventually says. “I don’t think his kindness is an act. But I also don’t think he’s as carefree as he likes us to think. I think that it’s hard for him to truly open up, you know?”

Marinette frowns. Shoots a glance at Alya. “You really think so?”

“Yeah. I just know what Nino told me, and he’s gonna kill me if he finds out you know about this, so …” She taps against her lips. “But Adrien’s dad is kind of an asshole.”

“Oh. Gabriel Agreste? An asshole?”

“Yeah. You know, rich kid expectations and all that.” Alya shrugs. “Kinda lucky Adrien still managed to end up as such a sunshine boy, right?”

Pensively, Marinette stares at the horizon. Thinks and thinks until her thoughts become useless.

“You could ask him some personal questions at Truth or Dare, though.” Wiggling her eyebrows, Alya looks at her. “I mean, what are parties good for if we can’t get drunk and get to know our friends’ most well-kept secrets, right?”

“Party?” Marinette repeats warily. “But … I thought we just wanted to hang out. Not have a whole party.”

At that, Alya shrugs several times and looks away. “Well, um, you know how Nino wanted to invite his roommates too? And they invited some more people, and they know some people, and they … Well, it’s going to be a party.”

“Wait. How many people are we talking about?”

Alya clears her throat. Mumbles a number that Marinette can’t make out.

“Pardon?”

“Twenty-five. Plus.”

Marinette blinks heavily. “We hardly have enough space for ten people.”

“Look, if we disinvite that many people, we’re socially dead. Especially Madeleine. You know how she is. Disinvite her once, and she’ll never invite you to one of her parties ever again, and –”

“The apartment is going to be a mess.”

“I know, I know, but Nino promised he will help with the cleaning, and –”

“Our neighbors won’t be happy.”

“Yeah, I know, so I bought a lot of expensive wine which will be the perfect apology gift, and then –”

“Oh my god, Alya. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Because! It actually only happened when I texted Adrien, and –”

Marinette groans and leans her head back. But it isn’t half bad. Because that many people means less interactions with Adrien. Which means less chances of somehow getting drawn to him despite knowing better. Which – it’s okay. It really is okay.

“Okay,” she says. “As long as you take responsibility for whatever could go wrong, I’m in.”

“Yep. I’m the responsibility girl. Don’t you worry.”

“If you continue to throw huge parties at ours, we’ll be kicked out faster than we can blink. Just for your information.”

“Duly noted.”

“Not just duly! Note it thoroughly!”

“As thoroughly as Adrien stared at you yesterday evening. Got it.”

Marinette deadpans. “Very funny, Al.”

She leaves the window open at night.

Nobody appears.

She thinks about texting him several times. She opens their chat, looks over their last exchanged messages. Silly, meaningless things. A hint of malice. A hint of mistrust. A hint of something deeper. She has no idea what to text him. How not to lose all her dignity, when really, he managed to do what he was set out on doing.

Making her that helpless and weak.

She wonders if he has finally gotten enough of her, or if he is dying to kiss her, and if the thought of being rejected and hated even more than before makes him just as restless as her.

He doesn’t text her. She doesn’t text him.

It’s Thursday when Marinette suddenly hears Adrien’s voice.

She is working on a set of macarons her parents needed help with, and she wipes some sweat from her forehead after getting another full baking sheet out of the oven. Heat presses down on her, and her father’s laughter reaches her as she feels her heartbeat speed up. Because another voice becomes audible just seconds afterwards.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. A mixture of dread and surprise roots her to the spot for a second, and before she can catch herself again, Adrien’s face already pops up, green eyes on her as he gives her a tiny smile.

“Told you she is being a busy bee,” Tom says behind him. “Don’t know what we would do without her.”

“Yeah,” Adrien returns. “I can imagine.”

Marinette stares at him. Suddenly realizes how messy she must look. Her hair is formed to a hasty bun, her apron is covered in stains, and her face is so hot she can feel herself blushing like crazy. She blinks herself awake from her trance when Tom appears next to Adrien, giving her a fond smile.

“I hope you don’t mind that I let him in. He wanted to give you a visit.”

“How did you …” She sighs. “Nino told you.”

Adrien’s smile is still in place. “I was curious about your baking skills. But If I’m disrupting your work …”

She sighs again. “No, no. Not a problem. I’m on another batch right now.”

“Marinette, dear,” Tom says. “You’ve worked hard enough, so if you two want to –”

“I’ll finish up this batch, at least.”

“Thank you. Really. Your mother should be back in an hour anyway, so …” The door gives a jingle, and Tom turns his head. “Right. If you need anything, call me. I’ll be in the sales area.”

And with that, he leaves them alone.

Marinette holds on to Adrien’s eyes for another second. His arms are crossed, and his smile is not as taunting as she is used to. She swallows, wipes her hands on her apron, and turns back to the countertop. “So, if you’d like me to show you how to make macarons …”

“If you’d like to teach me, sure.” He comes closer. She doesn’t allow herself to get nervous. Doesn’t move when he comes to a halt behind her, looking over her shoulder. “You’re making green ones?”

“What a keen eye you have,” she mumbles, starting to mix her flour mixture into the beaten egg white. “Your favorite color, isn’t it?”

The words left her faster than she would have liked, leave him in silence for a few seconds. She starts gently folding in the flour mixture, concentrating on nothing but her movements until he speaks again.

“How would you know?”

“I think you told me once. You’re way too talkative.”

“I told you?”

“As Chat.”

She keeps mixing, the movements familiar enough not to feel exhausting. The only thing making her shiver slightly are his eyes resting on her fingers, surveying every tiniest twitch of her hand.

“Memorizing things like that,” he says quietly. Moves so close that their bodies brush, that his fingers can rest on her hip. She quivers so violently that she almost drops her scraper. “I feel honored.”

She swats away his hand. “Don’t you dare distract me. This step is crucial. If the egg white collapses, I can start from scratch.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just very alluring when you’re that focused.” Laughter vibrates in his voice, and she rolls her eyes.

“And you’re very annoying when you’re ghosting around like that.”

“Am I now?” His hand reaches up to her face. She flinches when he touches her, but she doesn’t move away. His thumb moves over her cheek, and it takes her some time to realize he removed a flour stain from her face. “See, I’m being helpful.”

“Very helpful,” she mutters as she mixes in the last bit of flour.

“I would never sabotage your hard work.”

“As if you even could.”

“What a challenge. Just like I know my lady,” he purrs, his voice alone making her breath stumble for a second, but she does her best to pull herself together.

“Sorry, but judging by the number of Mecha Strike matches you lost, you aren’t the best opponent around.”

He snorts, and she slips away from his proximity while taking the bowl with her. A fresh icing bag is already waiting for her close to the oven. Instead of following her and caging her in once again, Adrien stays where he is and leans against the counter, watching her fill batter into the icing bag.

“Nino told me something,” he says.

She moves to her baking sheet. Forms the first little ball of batter. “Okay. Something relevant?”

“You could say that.”

“You really want me to worm it out of you, huh?”

When she glances at Adrien, she sees him grin, and it’s enough of a sign that whatever is to follow won’t be too pleasant. She turns back to her icing bag again.

“He told me you used to have a crush on me.”

She squeezes the bag too hard, and she curses loudly when an enormous patch of batter is left behind. Quickly, she reaches for a spoon and tries to save however much she can.

“He told me you used to swoon over me a lot,” Adrien goes on, watching her with a shit-eating grin. “Even after I got together with Kagami.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbles. “It was a stupid teenage crush.”

“I think it’s really cute. Sweet adorable Marinette, staring at me during classes, imagining what it would be like to hold hands and go on cute dates …”

She bites the inside of her cheek as she scoops up as much batter as she can.

“Being too shy to ask me out, never really talking to me …”

She curses yet again when she touches another one of the patches with her spoon, messing it up the slightest bit.

“Being intimidated by me, even though I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

She drops the spoon. It lands on the floor with a clattering sound. Wide-eyed, she stares at him. He isn’t grinning anymore, and instead, there’s something so intense to his eyes that everything inside her catches fire. With shaking hands, she picks up the spoon again and goes back to her icing bag, her fingers still visibly quivering. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting in any way as he comes closer to her again.

“I didn’t think that Nino knows about it,” she responds, banning all emotions from her voice. “Alya must have told him, and she must have exaggerated like she always does.”

“You never asked me out.”

“Of course I didn’t. And you got together with Kagami pretty quickly.”

“Were you jealous?”

“Right. You wish.”

“Because I think she was. Of you.”

Marinette snorts. Feels her cheeks turn hot. “Sure she was. We hardly ever talked, you and me.”

“Because I was intimidated by you.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.”

She squeezes out the last patch. Lies down the icing back and turns her head to him. “What kind of game are you trying to play now, Agreste? Making me think, what, that you’ve always had a thing for me?”

He is too close. He leans further into her personal space. She can’t look away from his eyes, from his lips. “And what if I did?”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“I know you.”

“Maybe not as well as you thought.”

She breathes in. Breathes out. They are still too close. She hesitates to do anything at all. As does he, it seems. His eyes search hers, and she isn’t sure which answer to give him. Yet she is just about to throw all caution overboard. She is just about to let him prove to her that what he said is the truth. That he can’t resist her after all.

But they are interrupted by a sharp beep coming from one of the ovens.

Marinette takes a step away. Turns to the oven. Heat pushes against her when she opens it, and she pulls out a sheet of finished macaron halves, setting them aside on the counter. Adrien doesn’t follow her, but she still feels watched. She can’t form a single thought without shivering like crazy.

“I thought you were nice back then,” she says, concentrating on a sheet of red batter she puts into the oven next. “So, yeah, I had a crush on you. Because you used to whispers the correct answers to me during chemistry class, and you once called out Chloé when we were working on a project together despite being her friend, and you bought me five new pens when you accidentally broke one of mine when we were fifteen. You seemed nice. So genuinely nice.”

She closes the oven. Dares look at him. He is still watching silently, leaning against the counter across from her.

“That’s the Adrien I fell for.”

A smile twitches onto his lips. “It’s not the same one I am now?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

His smile falls again. She knows the answer anyway. She wishes he would tell her just what exactly made him act like that. Made him forget about who he really is. If it was Hawk Moth, if it was whatever he wants to achieve with his wish. If she can help.

“Cute,” he eventually says. “That you’d fall for the proper nice boy, isn’t it? How very cute.”

There’s something defensive to his tone. She frowns. “Like I said, a stupid teenage crush. You shouldn’t take it too personally.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He steps closer. She doesn’t step away. “See you on Saturday, then. Looking forward to the party.” He grins. “Hope you’ll wash your hair until then. Batter everywhere. Just a heads-up.”

He brushes past her. She can hear his voice, as pleasant as always, as he gives Tom a quick goodbye. When she reaches for her hair, she realizes that he wasn’t lying. Sticky batter everywhere. She makes a face, listens for Tom’s confused answer before Adrien is gone for good.

There’s nothing more exhausting than parties with way too many people at your own place. Marinette has no idea why Alya is so fond of them, but anyway. She does her best to be a proper best friend. Does the grocery shopping with Alya, and prepares enough plastic cups for every guest, and Nino joins them pretty early on, bringing enough snacks to feed a family for a whole week.

Not once do they talk about Adrien.

Honestly, she doesn’t know how to face him. She doesn’t know where they stand. She only knows that her heart jumps whenever she thinks about him, and yet, she comes to no solution. Nothing at all.

By nine p.m., the apartment is already packed with people. Marinette squeezes through them, stopping here and there to talk to some of the guests. She knows almost all of Alya’s friends, and she knows most of Nino’s social circle too. Her own few friends from university didn’t have time to be here, and Marinette is almost glad. She doesn’t need even more people questioning what is going on between Adrien and her.

He turned up at eight, gave her a little smile, and went to talk with some of Nino’s friends.

And still, she can’t stop stealing glances at him.

She is annoyed at herself, but it’s almost impossible to resist. Whenever she talks to other people, she searches for his eyes. Sometimes she finds them on her. When she does, a hot shower fills her body from head to toe, and her heart beats faster, and she tugs at her skirt to adjust it again. And when their eyes don’t meet, she is allowed to watch him for seconds on end. The way he moves, the way he laughs with genuine mirth, the way his eyes twinkle from time to time. His slender, long fingers. His soft hair. His skin, tasting so sweet and alluring she’d like nothing more than to sink her teeth into it.

She is on her third drink as she leans against the kitchen counter, watching other people. Alya is laughing somewhere with her group of friends, Nino right next to her. It’s way too hot in here, but their balcony is filled to the brim too. Marinette is sweating in her thin T-shirt.

Even more so when she sees Adrien glance in her direction again, standing close to the balcony door. People are all around him, and yet, he looks at her and raises his glass, his grin so sly she shivers.

She nods and raises her glass too.

It’s a weird kind of dance. It doesn’t fit the drum of the bass Nino managed to achieve with his extra expensive speakers. It doesn’t fit the chattering around her, and the people passing her by. She whirls a strand of hair around her finger, and he is still watching her. She almost expects him to disappear into shadows again.

He doesn’t.

Being watched like that almost becomes thrilling. She takes a sip of her drink, hair still wrapped around her finger. She can almost feel his eyes wandering over her body. Centimeter after centimeter prickling over her skin, causing her to shift slightly, to bite her lip until he raises a finger, beckoning her closer.

She could have resisted, but she isn’t sure if she even wants to anymore.

Hesitantly, she starts approaching him. Exchanges a few words with one of Alya’s friends before moving on. It doesn’t take long until she’s finally in front of Adrien, the room’s dim lighting drawing shadows over his face. The only thing missing are cat ears twitching whenever she utters a word.

“Crowded today, huh?” she says, swirling her drink in her hand.

“Glad you washed your hair, at least,” he responds.

She snorts. Rolls her eyes. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Very welcome.”

“You’ve never been at one of Alya’s parties before.”

He shrugs. “I never knew you’d be here too.”

She looks at him. Tries to determine what exactly he is trying to do. What hides underneath the smile he is still showing. Suddenly, the urge to break apart his façade overwhelms her. The desire to destroy him underneath her hands until all he can do is beg for her. Until only the truth can spill from his lips anymore. She inhales deeply, keeps swirling her drink.

“You didn’t know who I was before.”

His smile grows. “Like I said, intimidated.”

“Why don’t I buy it?”

“Because you don’t buy anything I say, maybe?”

“Yeah,” she drawls. “Because sometimes, you talk some serious bullshit.”

He laughs lowly. Takes a sip of his drink. Licks the remains off the corner of his mouth. She is suddenly jealous of every single drop he manages to catch. “My, so honest. Maybe I just like to see you getting all riled up because of me.”

She unwittingly moves closer. Lifts her chin to keep looking at him. “Too bad you can’t rile me up. At all.”

“Mm-hmm, I can’t?” He lowers his voice until she is sure she is the only one who can hear him anymore. “So you never thought about me, huh? And I’m not talking about the sweet Adrien you had a crush on. You never thought about all the things I could do to you, even before you knew how good I could make you feel?”

Her breath hitches. She could deny it all. She could keep playing it in a way she is used to. She could. Or she gives in. Acknowledges her desires. Because it’s far too late to close her eyes from reality, really. He’s got her wrapped around his finger, and she doesn’t know how to get out of it anymore.

She really doesn’t.

“I did,” she whispers.

He blinks. Seems so surprised that her heart beats even faster. Before he can move away, she lifts her hand and softly grabs the collar of his shirt.

“I did,” she repeats. “I got myself off while thinking about you. Is that what you meant?”

“You … Huh. You really did.” It sounds more like a question than a statement. It gives her a kind of power she can use as she pleases. But strategic thinking is something she bid goodbye to a good while ago, and she pulls at his collar gently, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

“Yes. You want details?”

He looks at her, lips slightly parted, a frown on his face. An unexpected move, and it should be funny how nothing but honesty can throw him for a loop that quickly. It’s thrilling, it makes her heart speed up, and she holds his eyes as she goes on.

“The first time when I was seventeen. I was horrified by myself. And so turned on I had one of the best orgasms of my life.” She leans just a bit closer. “Want to know what I fantasized about?”

He laughs. It sounds shaky. “Would you look at that. How many drinks did you have?”

“I’m not drunk, Adrien.” She holds on to his eyes. Reaches for his hand. His right hand. Her fingertips brush his ring. His hand abruptly twitches away from her, but she grabs it again with more force, pulling it closer once more. Careful not to touch his ring another time. “But you asked, and I shall deliver.”

Any amusement drops from his face. She feels his hand tense.

“I’m not going to take your ring either,” she whispers. “Trust me.”

It’s bold. It’s so bold that she expects him to scoff at her and retract his hand for good. But he doesn’t. He just watches her warily, and her heart starts beating up to her throat before she dares move her fingers again, bringing them to his ring. This time, he doesn’t flinch away. This time, he even allows her to play with the piece of jewelry, to twist it from left to right and back again. It’s warm underneath her fingers. He sets his jaw, but still doesn’t move away from her. She knows what it feels like to have one of your weakest points touched like that. She knows what kind of tension takes over your body, and she knows what kind of mentality it must take not to shy away in an instant.

She knows.

He still is letting her do as she pleases.

God, she knows.

“I thought about your fingers,” she whispers, leaning towards his ear. Letting her lips ghost over heated skin. “I thought about the way you would touch me. I thought about how you’d tease me, how you’d want to explore my body and not give me a break for even one second.” She lets her nails scratch over his palm, lets her thumb press against his soft skin. “I thought about your fingers inside me, fucking me until I wouldn’t be able to breathe.”

His moist breaths meet her cheek, slightly shaky as he lets her touch his ring to her heart’s content. Maybe she should be flustered, but his reactions make everything inside her burn and tingle, and she shifts her body just to be a bit closer to him. Moves her head to see the darkened shimmer in his eyes, to see how her words affect him.

“Second time,” she keeps going, pulling his hand even closer until his fingers touch her naked thigh right underneath her skirt’s hem. Standing so close to the wall, the small gesture stays hidden from prying eyes, and the thrill of keeping this a secret makes her skin tingle. “I was nineteen. Remember that akuma that seriously injured me? Remember how you managed to pin me to the ground, and how I had to wrap my legs around your waist to stop you from getting my Miraculous?”

His eyes hold hers. She leads his hand further up, under the hem of her skirt. Suppresses a sound when he finally seems to get the clue, hand moving on its own to the backside of her thigh, softly tracing the shape of her behind. No one sees them, she tells herself. No one is able to see what he is doing to her, and it makes it all the more exciting.

“I remember,” he mumbles. “I remember too well.”

“I couldn’t sleep that whole night.” She closes her eyes with a hum when his palm brushes her ass. “I kept thinking about it.” He squeezes lightly, and her knees almost give out underneath her. “What … what it would be like to straddle your lap, to … to rub myself against you, I couldn’t …”

He squeezes again. This time harder, fingers digging into her flesh until she has to bite her lip to not release an embarrassing sound. A quick look around her tells her that people aren’t really paying attention to them, and she resists the urge to press her body against his, to seek for a kind of heat only he can give her.

“What do you think it would be like?” he asks her, lowly and darkly, and she can’t look away from his eyes.

“It’d feel … I …” She can’t hold back anymore. Everything inside her is on fire, is craving him and him alone. So she leans closer yet again. “We could … We could find out, you know.”

“Find out,” he repeats, and it’s almost funny that he still doubts what exactly she wants when it should be all too clear.

“Yes. Go to my room. The door on the left. I’ll be there in three minutes.”

When she leans back, she isn’t met with the heat she expected. Instead, Adrien’s eyes lock with hers. “You know what you’re suggesting, princess.”

She swallows gently. “I do. And if your answer is no, then leave me standing, and I’ll get the message loud and clear.”

He laughs. Squeezes her ass once again before moving his hand back to the hem of her skirt. “You think I could say no?”

Her heart is racing. “Maybe.”

“Right.” He removes his hand at last. Gives her one last grin before turning away from her. She watches as he casually takes a sip of his drink, as he approaches the door to her room. Sending her one last look over his shoulder. Leaving her in a shivering feeling of needy heat, and in one fluid motion, he pushes down the handle and enters her room, closing the door behind him.

Marinette blinks. Only now realizes what she has done. Even though she told him it would never happen again. She doesn’t understand why she is craving him that much. Why she needs him. Why she can’t stop thinking about him. Why even three minutes seem like a time she won’t be able to survive without going crazy. She glances through the crowd, sees Alya still talking to some of Nino’s friends, her back to Marinette’s door.

Oh god, what is she doing?

She isn’t giving up her dignity, she tells herself. She isn’t doing it to eventually get him on her side; she really isn’t. She told him she slept with him because she wanted to.

Because she wants him.

Shit, she wants him.

Her throat is dry. On her way to her door, she leaves her cup standing on one of the shelves. Her fingertips are tingling. No one is holding her back. No one is paying attention to her, and no one matters anymore. What people think isn’t important. Her blood is boiling in anticipation.

Quickly, she enters her room, and for good measure, she locks it behind her. Breathes in, breathes out. When she looks up from the lock, she sees that Adrien is standing in front of her desk, looking at some pictures she hung up on her pinboard. One of them depicts him too. It’s the one he is staring at. His cup sits on her desk, and she can hardly breathe, and her fingers twitch to comb through his soft hair, and her body cries to be close to him, and he eventually turns around, giving her a little smile.

“You kept one of us.”

“I did,” she whispers.

He tilts his head. She feels weak, feels completely exposed, feels like she wants to sink into his arms. It doesn’t matter whether it’s right or wrong anymore. Especially not when he comes closer to her, step by step until he is right in front her.

“Why did you?” His hand reaches up, fingers softly resting on her chin, making her lift her head. “We never were that close, after all.”

“I told you already,” she responds. “I liked your kindness.”

There’s something almost sad to his short laugh. His fingers wander on until they cup her cheek, and she leans into the touch without hesitation, closing her eyes as his thumb tentatively strokes her skin. “And now? Do you still think I’m kind?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “But I think you could be.”

This time, he doesn’t laugh, and he doesn’t answer either.

She doesn’t know what to say. Hesitantly, she opens her eyes. Looks at him. Awe colors his face, and he is staring at her lips. She doesn’t want to destroy this moment. She doesn’t want to ask what else she has to give him to be trusted for good. What he is so desperately hiding from her. She wants to dig it out, every last bit that is him. So she wraps her fingers around his wrist and drags his palm to her lips, pressing a kiss against his skin. He shivers beneath the touch.

“You’re too good for me,” he whispers. “Way too good for me.”

She wants to shake her head, wants to tell him that it isn’t so. But before she can, a hand on the small of her back pushes her forward, and his lips finally lock with hers.

She sighs. Leans into it. Wraps her arms around him, inhales his scent, fills her lungs with nothing but him. She goes on her tiptoes to feel more, feel everything. His hand on her face leads her, changes the angle until his tongue glides over her lower lip. With a small sound, she opens her mouth for him. But instead of exploring it more thoroughly, he catches her lip between his and sucks gently, sending a tickling feeling through her whole body.

She wants more. She needs more. She gives an impatient hum and returns the favor more feverishly, biting his lower lip and pulling until he gifts her with a low growl. Her nails dig into his back as she kisses him fiercely, and he laughs into her mouth before their lips part for a second.

“So excited, are you,” he mutters. Kisses the corner of her mouth. “That will be a problem.”

“A problem,” she repeats, catching his lips again and kissing him until she gets breathless. When they part this time, he moves further away, hindering her from kissing him until her eyelids flutter open. The heat in his irises makes goosebumps rise on her skin, and the tingling feeling between her legs is already too much to handle.

“See, there are so many people outside. Right in front of this door.” His thumb taps against her lips. “And I have to admit that I’m a bit possessive. I don’t want anyone else to hear how sweetly you scream my name.” Eventually, his thumb drags over her lower lip, and she resists the urge to close her eyes. “Now, how can we keep these pretty lips occupied, hm?”

She watches him. Feels liquid fire wander through her veins. Grips his wrist and kisses the tip of his thumb. holding his eyes as she opens her lips for him. Her tongue darts out to tap against his skin. Something light and playful. She intends to tease him, but somehow, the intensity coloring his expression takes hold of her too.

Watching the fire in his eyes, she pushes his thumb into her mouth. Sucks gently, sees his eyes darken, listens to his breaths getting shallower. Outside, the music is still playing, the low bass vibrates in the walls, and yet she can listen to nothing but her own heartbeat as he watches her with fire in his eyes.

“That’s your suggestion?” he rasps.

Her teeth catch the furthermost section, softly biting until he releases a shivering breath.

“That’s what you’ve been wanting to do since I made you come that good, huh?” He licks his lips. Removes his thumb from her lips, and her fingers only softly keep gripping his wrist as she presses one last kiss to his palm. He lets her before stepping back, slipping from her grasp until he steps back and leans against her desk, hands casually propped on its edge, his body on full display for her as he grins with a tilt of his head. Waiting, watching.

“I’m all yours, then.”

Marinette feels like she is melting on the spot. Her knees are already wobbly as she comes closer. Her hands are shaking. She stops in front of him. Splays her fingers over his chest, giving him a long look. There’s something too soft, too patient to his expression. Something that makes everything inside her quiver in an instant.

Her fingers wander lower. Over hints of muscles, over warm skin beneath soft fabric. She suppresses a sound as she slips her hands underneath the hem of his T-shirt. Slowly, he pulls up the fabric, revealing muscles and perfect abs, revealing a shadow of the bruise she left, and he obediently lifts his arm and allows her to pull off the shirt for good.

She can’t think anymore. Carelessly tosses the shirt to the floor before her fingers are on his skin again. Tracing the shape of every individual muscle, from his chest to his shoulders down to his stomach. Listening to the hitches of his breath. He is perfect. Everything about him is perfect. From his birthmarks to uneven patches of skin to the way he tastes when she presses a lingering kiss to his collarbone.

“You like what you see?” he whispers.

She returns his look. No answer will leave her lips until she leans forwards, tenderly kisses his collarbone. Palms running up his sides, gripping hard muscles to press herself closer, listening to the tumbling breath he gives as she keeps kissing him. Down to his stomach, nails raking over his perfection, and her fingers are trembling like crazy when they reach for his belt. She needs way too long to open it. She feels watched as Adrien leans back, still all languid and with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

“So eager that you’re getting nervous, are you?”

“Shut up,” she whispers, opening the button of his pants.

“Don’t have to deny it, Marinette.” He purrs her name, makes her quiver from head to toe. “Not anymore.”

Maybe she really doesn’t. Maybe she can admit to herself how thrilling it is to slowly go to her knees in front of him, her naked skin against the cool floor, her eyes eventually locking with his as he towers above her. With still shaking fingers, she reaches for his pants’ waistband and pulls them down. Further, further, until they pool at his ankles. Heated eyes following her movements, fingers cramping around the desk when she finally leans forward, placing a soft kiss on his trunks. He doesn’t make a sound yet, and that fact alone is almost driving her crazy.

She wants to hear him. She needs to hear him.

“How many times did you dream of this, Adrien?” she therefore asks, fingers playing with the elastics of his underwear. “How many times did you wish I would do this for you?”

He laughs. It sounds strained. “God. More times than I can count.”

The words alone are enough to make the throbbing feeling between her legs intensify. Enough so that her impatience takes the better of her. She lets her palms rest on his hips as her lips wander upwards, placing a kiss against his stomach. Her breasts rub against the fabric of his underwear, and she peeks up at him, his expression of eager anticipation making her heart beat faster.

“That’s good,” she says, finally hooking her fingers into the elastics of his trunks. Listening to his hitching breath, feeling his muscles quiver underneath the touch. “Because I did too.”

Before he can answer, she pulls down his underwear. An audible breath escapes her when she sees his half-hard member. Just as perfect as everything about him is. Even in this state, it looks thick and so delicious that her mouth waters.

She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her fingers around the shaft, unable to look away from his growing arousal as she gives a gentle, but firm stroke. His member twitches against her touch. Above her, Adrien finally releases a sound, something small and barely audibly, withering in silence after mere seconds again.

Fuck, she needs more.

“Did you dream about this?” she goes on, blinking up to him. Watching in fascination as his brows furrow, as his fingers cramp even more. “About me worshiping your dick like this?”

“Sometimes,” he manages. She tightens her grip on his silky skin, and he groans, eyes closing for a second before finding hers again. “Most of the time, you didn’t have the chance to talk much, my lady.”

She flutters her eyelashes. “Why is that?”

“Because,” his eyes don’t let go of hers, “I fucked your mouth until you choked on my cock.”

She releases a sound, fingers tightening around him even more. His words are enough to make her weak, to make her lose her mind for good, to make her lean forward until she can place a kiss on the tip. She hears him inhale sharply, feels him pulsate in her grip. Her lips wander over the side, down to the shaft, tongue tracing the soft underside of his arousal as she travels back up again. His slightly musky scent is already making her dizzy as she peeks up at him.

Their eyes meet. A breath escaped him. “You’d like that, huh?” he says as he reaches for her face. “You thought about it too, didn’t you?”

Softly, his fingers trace a path over her cheek. Something inside her becomes so weak that she gives in at last, releasing an affirmative sound as she flattens her tongue against his taste.

“Then do it, Ladybug. Open your sweet mouth for me.”

There’s no way she could say no. A last glance at his face, at the look he gives her. Full of desperate hunger, full of deep and consuming longing, and she finally opens her mouth as wide as she can, taking him in.

She has to close her eyes as she tries how deep she can take him, pushing her own limits until she almost gags. He fills her whole mouth, her breaths hardly reaching her lungs anymore even as she starts breathing through her nose. She covers the remaining length with her fingers, uses her other hand to find purchase on his thigh. Once she is satisfied with her position, she glances up at him, seeing him watch her out of heavy-lidded eyes.

“Just like that, Ladybug.” He swallows visibly. “You like that? You like taking my cock like hat, don’t you?”

She does, fuck, she does. The only answer she can give him is a needy sound, and she pulls back, lips dragging over his skin as her tongue swirls around the tip, catching his taste. She is rewarded with a groan, a sound so sweet it makes her quiver, and she needs more. She needs everything.

She rocks forward, faster this time, making sure to watch him as his dick hits the back of her throat. Tears build in the corners of her eyes, but she is determined to taste him in the most thorough way possible. She sucks, tongue on his sensitive flesh searching for spots that can drive him crazy the most. His teeth sink into his lower lip, his hips buck against her slightly as a fracture of a moan sits on his tongue, and she pulls back only to have him sink into her mouth right away again, trying to watch him, trying to watch the darkness in his eyes and the pleasure making his breaths harder and harder.

Her rhythm gets quicker, more demanding, her drool on his dick causing wet sounds that mix with the noise created every time she sucks as hard as she can. Her hand starts moving in time with her head, making up for the loss of heat as she draws back and forth. She presses her tongue flat against his tip, sucks so hard she can’t breathe anymore. A glance at him reveals that he has closed his eyes. It almost seems like he is holding back, and it makes her furious and determined all at once, and this time, she takes him so deep she swallows down a gag, so deep that she can’t control the drool building around her tongue, and she is rewarded with Adrien’s low, husky voice.

“Shit, Marinette –”

Fuck.

She can’t stop the moan vibrating in the back of her throat. Her body starts shaking. She is becoming a mess as she starts bopping her head back and forth, pulling back to the tip to suck at it gently before pushing him as deep as she can again. She watches the heavy breaths tumbling through his chest. Drool starts escaping the corners of her mouth at her almost hasty movements, but she doesn’t care. She needs to coax more sounds from him. She needs him to groan and beg for her. She needs him. Shit, she does.

A sudden touch to the back of her head draws a noise from her. His fingers thread through her hair, start massaging her scalp. Gently guide her into a steadier rhythm. She follows his lead, forcing herself to look up at him.

“See,” he says lowly, darkly. “Far better use for your sweet lips, isn’t it?”

She whines around his dick, her tongue tapping against any spot of silky skin it can reach. His hand in her hair grabs her harder, and she feels warm drool collect on her chin. She doesn’t mind. Not when Adrien keeps looking at her like that, the sounds he makes caused by no one else but her.

“Fuck, you look so pretty sucking my dick like that,” he growls. “So dedicated. So eager for me. That’s what you were thinking about when getting off to the thought of me, wasn’t it?”

She moans, sucks until her cheeks are hollowed out, letting him use her mouth however he wants to. Peeking up at him once again, seeing him watching her intently; watching every single one of her reactions, darkened eyes on no one but her. Heat builds in her stomach, between her legs, and she has to let go of his shaft to prop herself on both his thighs, fingers digging into his flesh. His thrusts are becoming wilder, more urgent.

“Wish you could see yourself right now,” he growls, sounding so out of his mind she feels herself tremble. “God, your mouth feels incredible.”

And fuck, he looks incredible. Muscles twitching with his efforts, one hand still on the desk while the other one guides her head without giving her even one break, face painted by a hunger so deep he must go mad with want. She understands too well. She is getting used to the way his dick moves into her mouth, getting lost in the satisfaction of pleasuring him and only him.

He grabs a fistful of her hair, leading her more forcefully than before as he gifts her with a groan. His dick pushing in and out, hitting the back of her throat again and again, almost getting too deep. She tries not to close her eyes. She doesn’t want to miss a second of the sight he grants her. The way he closes his eyes for a moment, the way his brows furrow slightly. His moans are enough to make her whimper around his cock in return, and even though her jaw starts aching, she doesn’t want him to stop.

She can already taste his bitterness on her tongue. The thought of him filling her mouth with his hot cum has her eyes almost roll back, the throbbing wetness between her legs becoming too much.

Way too much.

While he still thrusts himself into her, she shifts until she can sneak her hand underneath her skirt, finding her arousal and rubbing her clit so harshly she feels her eyes water in desperate pleasure. She is soaking wet already, and the way his dick pushes into her mouth again and again feels so impossibly good that she is worried she’ll come before he can. Her nails dig into his thigh as she keeps rubbing two fingers over her clit, following the rhythm he sets for her, letting her face be pushed forward and drawn back again, and –

He suddenly stops her, breaths heavy as she tries to catch up with what is happening.

“You’re touching yourself,” he realizes.

She whines in desperation. Half of his dick is still between her lips, and she licks every drop of precum she can catch from the tip, trying to get him deeper again. His hand in her hair holds her back though, not letting her move a centimeter.

“No, no, my lady. I’ll have to help you out there, now won’t I?”

He sounds breathless and needy, arousal dripping through every syllable, and yet he yanks her back by her hair until his dick slips from her lips at last. She whimpers helplessly at the feeling of pain turning to pleasure, but he doesn’t let her move her head forward again. The reddened head sits right before her, drool having slickened his skin, and his taste is still so prominent on her tongue that she craves nothing else but him.

“Lie down on your bed,” he tells her.

She glances up to him. Despite his command, the same desperation she feels is reflected in his eyes. Slowly, she removes her hand from between her legs and licks her own taste from her middle finger. His grip on her hair tightens for a second, his pupils dilated as she moans around her finger. She tastes a bit sour, a bit sweet, and the thought of him lapping up her juices makes her shiver in impatience.

“Fucking tease,” he laughs darkly.

“Says you,” she mumbles, managing to reach forward far enough, her tongue catching a taste of his tip once again. She mewls at the touch. “Sure you don’t want me to finish what I started?”

“Yes,” he groans, even though his grip on her hair loosens enough for her to be able to close her lips around his tip, suckling gently. “God, Marinette – so hungry for me, are you? C’mon, let me make you feel good.” He pulls her back again, drawing a frustrated sound from her. “On your bed, I said.”

She contemplates disobeying, making him fill her mouth again until he loses all control and fucks her face for good. But she holds herself back. Instead, she gets up on shaky legs, her knees aching from her position. Adrien supports her until she is standing upright, and when she is about to turn away, his lips are already on hers. He kisses her with so much dedication that her toes curl, kisses her until her fingers cramp in his hair, doesn’t care about the drool on her chin or his taste on her tongue. Unable to hold back a moan, she pulls him with her as she steps back. He needs a moment to kick his clothes off his feet, and as soon as he has done so, she rakes a hand through his hair and seeks for the taste of his tongue, nudging and prodding until he groans into her mouth, meeting her with the same agonizing hunger she feels.

The back of her legs meets her bed. She pulls him with her when she sits down, but he draws back again right away. Her breathing is going hard, her heart is about to beat out of her chest, and he watches her face, eyes set ablaze and mouth swollen from her kisses.

“On your back,” he whispers to her.

She swallows hard. Lets go of him to follow his command, scrambling backwards. Her head on her pillow, her body shivering as she lies down, watching when he follows her immediately. He pushes her knees apart, settles between her legs. She can hardly hold back a moan as she feels his erection press against her panties, and she is about to reach down and get rid of that last piece of garment when he stops her, grabbing her wrists and placing them left and right to her head.

“Hold still.”

She stares at him. “What do you mean, hold still?”

“You heard me.” Dark eyes latch onto hers. She can hardly react when he reaches for the hem of her T-shirt. She is about to lift her arms and let him undress her, but his wicked grin somehow makes her realize that he won’t make it that easy for her. “What did I tell you? Don’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing, right?”

She frowns. “Yeah, but –”

Before she can go on, he has pulled her T-shirt up, revealing her naked breasts to him – and then, he stuffs some of the fabric between her lips. In her surprise, she attempts to move away, but he holds her in place by pushing the fabric deeper in.

“Relax,” he tells her quietly. “Breathe through your nose. Right, just like that.”

It’s somehow humiliating. It’s a bit disgusting, drenching the dry fabric in her own drool, goosebumps rising on her skin as her teeth scrape against it. It’s turning her on so much she already has to suppress a loud moan, every single one of her reactions being watched by attentive green eyes. Her fingers cramp into her pillowcase, and she doesn’t move away as he pushes in some more until her mouth is filled to the brim, her tongue pressing against the moistening fabric.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. Seemingly content with his work, his hand wanders from her mouth to her neck, down to her tits. He cups one of them, squeezes so roughly that she arches her back, the sound tumbling through her throat caught by the fabric gagging her. “You like that, huh? You like being touched by me?”

She whimpers. Leaving her hands where they should be, she tries to lean into his touch. He draws away though. Heat surges through her when he reaches for the zipper of her skirt, opening the piece of clothing and slowly pulling it over her legs. She watches him. How his chest heaves with his hard breaths, how his eyes wander over her body, how he seems to shiver when she hums impatiently, moving her hips towards him.

She can’t tell him how much she wants him. She can’t even beg him to fuck her already. All she can do is dig her fingers into the pillowcase, moaning around her shirt as he softly touches her inner thighs, fingers drawing light patterns over her skin.

“Love how wet you’re getting for me,” he says. Closes her legs to start pushing her panties over them. “How you look at me when you’re being that honest. You have no idea. You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted you.”

She tosses back her head as she feels his fingers on her clit, her legs falling apart for him on their own. She spreads them as much as she can, moves against his touches. Every moan she gives is swallowed by the fabric between her lips, and all she can do is succumb to the pleasure he gives her.

“So responsive,” he goes on, his words sounding almost overwhelmed. As if she is driving him as crazy as she feels. “Fuck, you’re too beautiful. Look at me, Marinette. Look at me while I fuck you.”

She whines. Forces herself to follow his command. His fingers wrap around his hardened length, lead it towards her entrance. Her whole body tenses in anticipation when she feels his hot tip against her folds. He glances at her, then at her core again, licking his lips as he enters her the slightest bit. Just enough to make her shiver, to make her legs wrap around his hips, urging him forward.

“See, so eager,” he rasps. “So ready for me. Fuck, I want you. I want you.”

She gives a high-pitched sound, pushes him on. He doesn’t comply though. Instead, he enters her so slowly that she can feel every single millimeter, so slowly that the feeling of being stretched by him shoots through her whole body, making her twitch and squirm underneath him. She tries to watch him, but her sight becomes blurry, nothing but his heavy pants and her helpless sounds filling the air between them.

He grabs her waist so hard she clenches her teeth around the fabric, and wild pleasure fills her when she feels him push deeper, deeper, as deep as he can go. Just one little movement, the tiniest of thrusts, brushing places that make the throbbing in her stomach almost explode –

She sobs as he slams his hips against hers, and the heat becomes too much, wave after wave crashing through her as she attempts to hold on to her sanity, feeling her senses slip away and her eyes roll back. Nothing but the feeling of him, so goddamn good she wants to cry, and every thrust only makes it worse and so much better at once. She’s sure she would scream if it wasn’t for the damp fabric between her lips gagging her. His hands on her hips roughly lead her on, and she can do nothing but follow, her orgasm shattering her second after second after second.

“You came already?” she hears him ask, sounding almost awestruck. And because that isn’t quite the truth, she whimpers and shakes her head, moving her hips as best as she can.

He pushes into her again, making heat swell in an even more delicious way, making her skin tingle and her back arch from the bed, and it seems to take him some time to speak again.

“You’re still coming?”

Fuck. Hearing him realize that her high still lasts sends a new wave of arousal through her, and she whines as she attempts to nod. Her reaction draws a groan from him before he slams into her even harder, faster, her legs trembling wildly as the heat doesn’t dissipate, filling her everywhere, filling every corner of her being. She looks at him, his body moving, shadows dancing over his perfection, brows furrowed as he buries his cock inside her, so deep she can feel nothing but him anymore. And she realizes he is watching her too. The way her body rocks with his movements, breasts bouncing and fingers cramping as clipped moans collect in her throat, one after the other.

“Jesus, I can’t – Marinette, you’re so –”

She has no idea when one orgasm ends and the next one begins, desperate pleasure bleeding into each other, her mind blank and her thoughts useless. There’s only Adrien. The way his muscles tense, the desire shining in his eyes, his messy hair covering his forehead as he starts to babble, cursing and hissing and ramming himself into her, the wet sound of her arousal drowned out by the music playing outside her room. Her legs are still wrapped around him, urging him on more and more, every thrust causing a new sound to fill her throat. Her pleasure moves in waves, overwhelms her yet again. So good, so goddamn good, and she never wants him to stop, wants him to fuck her senseless, wants nothing but his heat until she breaks and falls and never arrives at the surface again.

“You’re too … Shit, you’re so tight, so …” He grabs one of her thighs, ramming his hips against hers so hard she bites down on her shirt, body shaking as she reaches another shattering peak. “You’re – did you, again …?”

She nods. Whimpers, writhes, moves with him and against him and she feels tears in her eyes as he doesn’t stop, just doesn’t stop, god she never wants him to stop –

She knows he is about to come when is groans become louder, wilder, and she pushes him on yet again. She can’t tell him how badly she wants him to fill her up, make her his in every way. The thought alone already sends her into another wave of dizziness. She focuses on the feeling of his cock pushing into her, and she tenses her muscles. Makes him moan, makes him close his eyes and lean back his head, and he’s so beautiful, god, so incredibly beautiful as his grip on her hips tightens, as he buries himself inside her as deep as he can, as the movement of his hips starts to seem almost erratic. Pleasure and desperation color his face as he seeks for his own release, and she couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight than this.

She feels him pulsate inside her, feels him twitch as his moans almost break to pieces. She isn’t sure if she feels the warmth inside her or if she is just imagining it, but at least she can listen to his mindless moans, can watch his pretty face contort and his body convulse in his high. One she is responsible for. One only she is allowed to see.

It takes seconds until the tension slowly falls from him, until the movement of his hips has ceased. He opens his eyes, looks at her. Satisfied, a slight blush creeping up his neck, a ghost of a smile as he strokes her thighs. A whimper tumbles through her throat when he moves out of her, leaving nothing but strange emptiness. Yet her body is too weak to move in any way, legs slumping down as they aren’t held up by his hands anymore. She tries to control her breathing when he bends over her, gently removing the shirt from her lips, drool having formed it to a lump of fabric.

“You did so well,” he whispers to her. “So very well. Let me reward you, princess.”

As soon as her lips are freed, he is already kissing her. Softly, so softly she can’t hold back anymore, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing him closer. She follows his movements when he lies down on his side. His hands cradle her face, and his lips press light kisses against her mouth, against her nose, against her cheek. She sighs, seeks his lips again. Gets lost in the feeling of his gentleness.

His fingers travel over her shoulder, over her curves. Squeeze her butt lightly, further down, eventually move between her legs. Their lips part for a second, and a loud moan slips from her mouth when he rubs a finger over her slickened clit.

“Shh,” he mumbles, helping her drag her leg over his to give him better access. “Told you I don’t want anyone else to hear.”

“Sorry,” she whispers, screwing her eyelids shut at the feeling of his fingers rubbing her so fiercely, and pleasure builds up inside her anew. “Sorry, just – so good, you’re so good, I’m going to, I’m going to –”

“I know.” He kisses her frantic words from her mouth, his tongue seeking out her taste. His finger wanders just a bit deeper, presses against a place that sends both pain and consuming desire through her, and she cries into his mouth, greedily trying to kiss him back without going crazy. The circles he draws are small and slow, working her steadily. It’s too much. It’s so much that sounds get stuck in her throat, leave her in clipped little things, and he keeps kissing her. His unoccupied hand on the back of her neck doesn’t let her get anywhere as the heat becomes too much. More, more, and her hips start moving on their own, following his lead, devoting herself to him entirely, every last fiber, and she feels the heat snap so violently she sobs into his mouth, restless hands holding on to him and body writhing as her orgasm shakes her, grips her, doesn’t let her go, seconds and seconds on end.

It takes her some time to come to her senses. Breathing hard, heartbeat going crazy, she pulls back from his lips, stopping the movement of his fingers by gently drawing them away. His eyes are sparkling as he licks her arousal off his finger. She can hardly move, can hardly do anything but smile dumbly in her bliss, feeling satisfied and entirely at peace.

“You’re insatiable,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to her lips. “I love it.”

She hums, kissing him back.

“Does my dick feel that good?”

She leaves her eyes closed. “You wish. That’s just the wonders of vaginal orgasms.”

“Well, I must be doing something right if you can’t stop coming.”

Her cheeks heat up, and she buries her face on his chest. “That, too.”

A laugh vibrates in his chest. “See. Just say I’m incredible in bed.”

“You’re a pig.”

“Bet you wouldn’t say that if I was still fucking you.”

“Seriously, Adrien.”

He snorts. Buries his nose in her hair. “You’re incredible though. Could watch you forever. You’re so beautiful when you come for me over and over again.”

She shivers. His skin is slick with sweat, and he’s so warm and inviting, and she presses her body as close as she can, sighing when he wraps an arm around her waist in return. Exhaustion takes over her when his lips start spreading kisses over the crown of her hair.

“Marinette,” he whispers, and it sounds so much like a question that she looks at him in return.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell me this was the last time. Please.”

Fragile little words. She moves her hand up and down his back, feeling for his unsteady breath.

“I won’t say it,” she mumbles. “I can’t say it.”

He sighs. Hugs her closer to him. His heartbeat stumbling away against her ear. For a moment, there’s nothing else but them. Nothing matters. Nothing has to matter. She drowns in seconds, only catches air when her phone, left on her nightstand, gives a shrill sound. Another one. Another one.

Grumbling, she reaches out for it without letting go of Adrien. With a chuckle, he helps her out. She lands on her back in the process, and while she unlocks her phone, she feels warm lips on her neck, on her shoulder, worshiping her in a way that makes her heart beat faster again. Adrien’s hand keeps exploring her body while she reads the messages Alya sent her.

[Alya]: gurl where the hell are u???

[Alya]: what are u doing

[Alya]: are u in your room?? why?

[Alya]: not that it’s any of my business but you will have to deal with some questions if u don’t respond in the next 5 mins yknow I’m kinda worried

With a squeak, she sits up. Sends Adrien a panicked look. “Alya is onto us,” she hisses as she prepares to jump from the bed, but she is held up by Adrien’s hands decidedly pushing her back into the sheets. Something about his grin makes her nervous enough to squirm.

“No worries, my lady. I can play it cool.” He reaches for something on her bed. Her panties, she realizes as he guides her to slip her feet through them, pulling them up slowly while his fingers brush her skin. “Just do the same.”

She frowns. “Why do I have a feeling there’s a catch?”

“My, so wary of me.” When he arrives at her hips, she automatically lifts them to let him finish his work. “Why would there be a catch?”

There is one. She is sure of it. Still, he lets go of her, and she keeps frowning as she gets up on her feet. Only to freeze in place. Because the feeling of something foreign inside her is hardly ignorable, something warm and liquid, and she tenses her muscles as she feels like it’s leaking out of her, and –

“Don’t clean yourself up.” Adrien’s eyes flash with darkness. “Keep running around with my cum inside you. Keep being reminded of me the whole evening.”

She stares at him. Feels so hot that everything inside her tingles. “Seriously?” she whispers, even though she knows the answer already.

“Yes. Seriously.” He moves to her desk, collecting his own clothes. She can’t stop staring at him. She can’t stop wanting to press him into the sheets yet again, wipe his smugness right from his face. “Every time I look at you, I want to be reminded of how good I fucked you. How tight and hot you were when I came inside you.”

She swallows a breath. Pulls her shirt over her head to search for a new one in her wardrobe. “And what if I say no?”

“Then say no.” She listens to the click of his belt, the rustling of clothes, and it doesn’t take long until he is right behind her, softly letting his hand rest on her stomach and kissing her temple. Slowly, his fingers wander lower, lower still, forcing themselves between her legs, pressing against her sex. She closes her eyes and lets him. “Choice is yours.”

She is still tensing her muscles to not let any drop of his escape. She swallows again. Leans into his body, leans into his touch, his palm softly grazing her mound. She feels unable to say anything, to protest, to agree, and his lips ghost over her cheek.

“I like that white dress. Must look amazing on you.”

“Is that a subtle suggestion?”

“Maybe.”

She snorts. Turns her head to kiss him. It shouldn’t feel so right to feel his lips on hers. It shouldn’t make her heart stumble like that. He removes his hand from between her legs, and instead, he wraps his arms around her, kissing her until she feels lightheaded.

“We gotta go,” she whispers. “You go first. Do it as inconspicuously as possible.”

“No worries. I’m the master of inconspicuousness.”

“Sure you are.” She squirms a bit in his arms until she can reach forward and pull out a pink T-shirt. “You also ruined my shirt. Thank you for that.”

“Technically, you ruined your own shirt.”

“Yeah, yeah, bite me.”

She squeals when he takes her literally, his teeth sinking into her shoulder. With a laugh, she frees herself from his arms, hitting him lightly.

“Asshole!”

“What? You asked so nicely. I couldn’t say no.”

She rolls her eyes. Puts on her shirt and snatches her skirt from the bed. Feels his eyes on her as she slips into the piece of clothing. It’s somehow thrilling. Every single one of his looks seems like another hint at how much he worships her. As if he can’t get enough of her. Just as much as she can’t get enough of him.

She bites her lip as she pulls up the zipper. “Go. Or Alya will never let me hear the end of it.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up to a grin. Then he pushes down the doorhandle, and he slips outside. Marinette keeps staring at the door when he is gone. Every movement reminds her of the wetness between her legs, of what he did to her, of what he looked like when he came –

It’s already driving her crazy, she realizes.

She grabs her phone and texts Alya not to worry. Then she adjusts her bedsheets, lets her ruined shirt rest on her chair, tugs at the hem of her skirt. Checks her face in the mirror. Her reddened cheeks, her swollen lips. She hopes Alya will believe her when she claims it’s just too hot in there to look more presentable than this.

She waits two more minutes before leaving the room.

“Something’s different about you.”

Marinette tries not to sweat as Alya eyes her up and down. She hopes her hair isn’t too messy, and she swears to god that she’ll punch Adrien in the nose if he dared leave a mark somewhere. Taking a hesitant sip of her drink, Marinette shrugs a few times.

“Alone time can really bring some color to your face, huh?”

Alya purses her lips. “You could have just told me you wanted to lock yourself in your room for half an hour. I was worried!” She raises an eyebrow. “Especially because Adrien was suddenly nowhere to be seen either.”

Marinette tries not to choke. Instead, she nods very seriously and attentively. “Really? Huh. Maybe he was on the balcony?”

“Maybe,” Alya drawls. “Or maybe he was in your room?”

Marinette stares. Alya stares. Around them, the chattering continues. People laugh and move to the music, and Marinette shows the most incredulous smile she can.

“Yeah, sure. We secretly hooked up while a whole party is going on outside my room. You know me, an exhibitionist at heart.”

The feeling between her legs is uncomfortable enough for her to squirm a bit, and her eyes wander over the room for just a second, catching sight of Adrien watching her, leaned against a wall. When their eyes meet, he sends her a sly grin and licks his lips. A shudder runs through her, pools in the spot where he filled her up with his warmth, the memory of what he did to her bringing new heat to her face.

“Anyway,” she quickly adds, looking back at Alya. “We’ll have so much work to do. People aren’t exactly treating our furniture kindly, are they?”

Alya furrows her brows. “Nice change of subject.”

“I’m just saying.”

“The furniture will survive. Somehow. I hope.” Alya sighs, looking around. “It always does. At least – oh my god, Fabrice, are you serious? Don’t put your cup on the fucking TV!”

And with that, Alya is distracted at last.

They don’t talk the whole evening, Adrien and her. Instead, she feels watched. Every single one of her movements, every time she talks with someone. It’s not like she can easily forget about him when from time to time, the wetness between her legs becomes so uncomfortable she has to hold back from finally cleaning herself up. But she doesn’t. She stays obedient, meets Adrien’s heady eyes whenever she can.

Nobody but them knows about it, after all. He is becoming her dirty little secret, and she is becoming his.

The evening becomes longer, and the first guests already leave shortly after midnight, Adrien included. He pleasantly says his goodbyes to Alya, hugs her tightly before moving on to Marinette. His smile is somehow soft and somehow wicked. His lips rest on her cheek longer than necessary, and he whispers something to her before moving away.

“Have a nice night, beautiful.”

She feels herself blush. Watches as he waves at them and leaves together with two of Alya’s friends. Marinette feels almost giddy, her heart pounding as the memory of their encounter won’t leave her head. Every single moment, every sound he made. She joins Alya again, talks with her friends, laughs about senseless little things, and it takes time until Alya looks at her for longer than usual, something off about her expression.

“Oh, hey, Marinette.” She squints at one side of her face, then at the other. “Did you lose an earring?”

Marinette freezes. Her smile slowly drops. She reaches for her earlobes, fingertips turning icily cold. Her stomach churns. One of them feels the same as ever, metal underneath her fingertips.

The other one is empty.

This fucking asshole.

Chapter Text

[Marinette]: You have my earring.

[Marinette]: I know you do.

[Marinette]: I can’t believe it, Adrien. Give me back that goddamn earring.

[Marinette]: Now.

[Marinette]: I swear to god, now.

[Marinette]: I saw that you were online!! Respond damn it! Don’t you DARE just stay quiet right now!

[Marinette]: I WILL keep ringing your doorbell until either your neighbors hate you forever or you open the door so I can beat your ass I SWEAR

She couldn’t sleep. Her caffeine-fueled brain can think of nothing but the best way to beat him up. “That motherfucker,” she hisses, kicking her bed with more force than necessary and whining when pain shoots through her whole leg. “God damn it! I can’t believe it! I can’t believe I let him take my earring while we were having sex! How pathetic is that? Oh yeah, sorry, I lost my Miraculous because I let my enemy fuck me silly. Right! I’m pitiful, aren’t I?”

Tikki follows her movements with wide eyes. “You are not, Marinette. You couldn’t have known he’d try to take your Miraculous.”

“You’re such a bad liar.” She tries not to scream. Tries not to just cry out in pure frustration. “Of course I could have known, because that’s what he has been trying to do for the past few years!”

For a long moment, Tikki stays quiet. Outside, the sun is slowly rising, leaving nothing but orange lights coloring the clouds. Marinette could hardly sleep. She tossed and turned, sending Adrien messages and going crazier the more time passed.

“But he only took one,” Tikki says.

“Yeah,” Marinette responds. “One too many.”

“No. I mean, he could have taken both. With only one earring, he doesn’t own the whole Miraculous.” Tikki looks up at the ceiling. “So why only one? What does he have to gain from only having one of the earrings? He can’t make the wish this way.”

“Who knows,” she growls. “He’s my enemy. Enemies have some weird ways of thinking. Or maybe he only managed to grab one without me noticing. Or maybe he is stupid enough that he thought one earring would be enough.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, it was just a suggestion.”

Her phone buzzes. Marinette unlocks the display in a matter of seconds, and when she sees that it’s a message from Adrien, her heart makes a wild and furious jump.

[Adrien]: Oh wait, you mean this one?

[Adrien]: [photo]

It’s a photo of her earring.

“Asshole,” she hisses. “This goddamn fucking –”

She calls him. Keeps cursing under her breath. Tikki is still watching her, worry shining in her eyes. It takes three rings until Adrien picks up, his voice careless and just as maddeningly teasing as it always is.

“Hello, bugaboo. Couldn’t wait to hear my voice?”

“Fuck you. Give me back my earring.”

“Oh, wow. Manners aren’t your strong suit, huh?”

She grits her teeth. Her fingers cramp around her phone. “Please give me back my fucking earring.”

“Still not too convinced.”

“What the hell, Chat?” she spits. “How can you just take my earring? Seriously, I thought … Well, just …”

“You thought what?”

She shuts up. She was being stupid. She thought that somehow, there could be something between them. Something that exceeds all that enemy bullshit and makes him see her for her. Makes him trust her. She was wrong. She must have been wrong.

“Tell you what, Marinette,” he continues when she doesn’t answer. “You know me. I’m a gracious person, so I could give you back that earring.” She can almost hear his shit-eating grin in his words alone. “Under some conditions.”

She sets her jaw. “I’m listening.”

“How many assignments do you have to wrap up for tomorrow?”

She pauses, the question surprising her so much she doesn’t find an answer for a few seconds. “I, um, finished them all on Friday,” she says slowly. “Why?”

“Good. Then wear that white dress I saw in your wardrobe yesterday and send me a photo of yourself. Let me see how gorgeous you look in it.”

She pauses again. “You’re blackmailing me to get photos of me in a dress?”

His laugh sounds genuinely amused. “Oh, little bug. I don’t think I would have to blackmail you for that, would I?”

“Well, yeah. You could have just asked instead of stealing my earring,” she hisses.

“But here we are. We have a deal?”

“I don’t get what the deal is. I send you that stupid photo, and you give me my earring?”

“Can’t make it that easy for you, sorry,” he purrs. “But it’s the first step. Got some more things in store for you, bugaboo.”

For a moment, she allows herself to close her eyes, sitting down on her bed. “Adrien, listen. I have no idea what you have to gain from this, but if Hawk Moth decides to akumatize someone and wreak havoc all over the city –”

“He won’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Let’s just say he’s having a busy day.” He lowers his voice. “Trust me.”

A shudder finds its way over her spine. Trusting him, huh? She wants to. She really wants to, but what is she supposed to think when he steals her earring and tries to play another one of his stupid games with her?

“You’re not making it particularly easy to trust you,” she mutters as she moves to the wardrobe. “If that is your way of wooing a girl, I’m seriously worried for you.”

“I appreciate it. Now go and be a good girl. I’m waiting.”

He hangs up. She stares at her phone. Curses herself over and over again. It’s bad enough that he still thinks he could play with her that easily, but even worse is the fact that she succumbs that quickly to his whims.

Damn it.

She keeps cursing as she yanks the dress out of her wardrobe. She feels Tikki’s eyes on her all the while, and every time the kwami wants to speak, surely about to try and calm her down, she repeats another time how much she hates that asshole. It takes her no more than a few minutes to put on the dress. The hem almost reaches her knees, and the fabric hugs her upper body in a way she knows makes her look pretty, judging by the many times Alya complimented her for it.

Puffing out a breath through her nose, she positions herself in front of the mirror. Looks at herself. Her face is a grimace of anger. And still. He likes riling her up, he said. She somehow gets the allure. Because if she was to remove a strap from her shoulder, pull the fabric down to reveal more cleavage, even a flash of something more, teasing him with a simple what-if –

No. She is not going to reward him for stealing her earring. What the hell! She shouldn’t even remotely think about the possibility.

So instead, she covers her face with the phone and takes a quick and listless photo which she sends to Adrien right away.

As if just having waited for her to follow his command, he texts her back immediately.

[Adrien]: Knew it. You look gorgeous.

[Adrien]: Hmmmmm. You know why I love dresses? So easy to just hike them up and get a good taste of you.

[Adrien]: Especially if you don’t wear anything underneath ;)

She inhales sharply. Can’t get the mental image out of her head. It’s not like he is wrong. He could just lead her into an abandoned alley, kneel before her to hook her leg over his shoulder. Make up for being such a dickhead by spreading kisses all over her thigh, and lap up her juices as if he was a starving man. She remembers the feeling of his tongue against her, how he just knew where to touch her to make her ears ring and her whole world shatter, and fuck.

She is getting turned on.

She can’t let herself get turned on.

[Marinette]: You wish.

[Adrien]: I actually do, yea.

[Adrien]: Meet me here in 30 minutes.

[Adrien]: [location]

[Adrien]: And keep wearing that pretty dress. Can’t wait to see you in it :*

Screw this. Screw him. What kind of game is this? One she can’t keep up with, at least. With another curse, she stumbles through her room while yanking her panties down. Slips out of them before she can think too much about it. The feeling is strange, and wrong, and goosebumps rise on her skin as she jams the white panties into her handbag, gritting her teeth all the while.

Tikki tilts her head at Marinette. “Where are you going?”

“Letting myself get blackmailed, I guess,” she hisses, and leaves her room.

Adrien is sitting on a bench, sunglasses obscuring his eyes when she arrives at the location he sent her. Marinette glares at him. Every time just the tiniest gust of wind picks up, her hands already twitch to tug the hem of her dress down. She didn’t dare sit down on the bus, and she felt like people were watching her the whole time, and god damn it, she isn’t thinking about how he could reward her for going through that whole hassle, doesn’t imagine how his words of praise would trickle over her spine.

Shit. No. She would never.

She approaches him. Isn’t even surprised that he makes a show of leering at her, pushing his sunglasses down to look at her from head to toe. His gaze climbs over her like liquid fire, and she presses her teeth against each other so she doesn’t call him all kinds of names.

“Hello, lovely,” he purrs. “All alone here?”

She rolls her eyes. “Quit your stupid games, Agreste.”

“Oh, you’re no fun at all.” He stands up. Summer sun heats up her skin. Her heart jumps wildly as he pushes his sunglasses up for good, circling her with a lazy grin. “Gotta say, I really like that dress on you.”

She watches him wordlessly.

“Would look even better on my bedroom floor, though.”

“Fuck you,” she flares up. “Give me back my earring. Now.”

“Aw, but bugaboo. I’m not even nearly done with you.”

His hand settles on her waist. She shivers violently. Doesn’t think about how easy it would be for him to reach under her dress and do whatever he wants to her. She wouldn’t let him anyway. She wouldn’t. But her reaction doesn’t stay unnoticed, and Adrien leans closer to her, leading her into a tiny step. She lets herself be urged on, feeling somehow weak underneath his touch.

“Something wrong, beautiful?” he purrs into her ear.

Fuck this. Fuck how weak her knees are getting. Fuck the way her body craves him. It should feel wrong. It should.

“Yes,” she therefore snaps. “The fact that you’re being a dickhead, for example.”

“Oh, come on. You know you love it.” He squeezes her waist. She swallows down the gasp dancing over her tongue. “Know what we’re gonna do now?”

Maybe they seem like an unspectacular, normal couple as they walk side by side. Her fingers cramp around her handbag’s strap, her body tenses underneath his touch, and she doesn’t know if she is relieved or disappointed when he lets go of her after all.

“You give me my earring, and we part ways without me bashing in your face?” she suggests quietly.

His mirthful laugh reaches her. “We’re going to get some ice cream.”

She pauses. Scrunches up her nose. When she risks a glance at him, she sees an almost boyish shimmer in his eyes.

“What?” she replies.

“What?” he gives back.

“Is that an innuendo?”

His grin twitches. He laughs again. “My, what a dirty mind you have. No, it isn’t.” He wiggles his brows. “You want it to be?”

“No. I definitely don’t.” She makes a face. “But, I mean, ice cream?”

“Yeah. You don’t like ice cream?”

“What are we, fourteen?”

“Oh, come on. Everyone likes ice cream.” He taps her nose, and she flinches away. “Even someone as uptight as you.”

She glowers at him. “I’m not uptight.”

“Kinda are.”

“Am not.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.” He smirks at her and lets his sunglasses sink back down. “Let me guess your favorite flavor. Vanilla.”

“I get it. You think I’m boring.”

“I think you’re hiding a lot beneath that cute exterior of yours.”

She sighs. “I would almost be flattered if you weren’t blackmailing me like a sicko, you know.”

“Oh, live a little. We’re just having a bit of fun.”

Marinette keeps watching him, trying to figure out his true intentions. Again, he is toying with her. It’s weird though. Yes, he is kind of torturing her – but if she is to believe him, then there should be no akuma attack and no reason for her to be too worried. He willingly took away the one factor that would have made her go crazy with concern the most.

But if he isn’t trying to make her quiver in fear – then what is he trying to do?

“It isn’t vanilla,” she answers as they stroll along. She lets herself be guided by him, watches his movements. Adrien doesn’t seem as overly confident as he looks as Chat Noir. There’s something almost modest about the way he carries himself, and she guesses it’s no wonder that she never put two and two together on her own.

“Mm, it isn’t.” He nods slowly. “Maybe something more special, then. Peppermint?”

“I like it. But I’m not always in the mood for it.”

“Right.” Their hands brush. She could have thought of it as an accident, but his fingers linger a moment too long, wander over her palm in a trickling sensation, and she has to clear her throat to hold back a sound from escaping her. “Blueberry?”

“Close.”

“Strawberry?”

She glances at him and nods.

“Cute.” He laughs. It lacks the mockery that usually accompanies the noise, and it sounds so pure and genuine that her knees get weak. “Of course.”

“Yours is peppermint.”

He hums. “A bit too spicy.”

“Really.” She raises her eyebrows. “Something sweeter. Are you the vanilla type of guy?”

“Hardly. Or did you really get that impression?”

His tone makes the implication clear, and she rolls her eyes. “I get it, I get it. Banana?”

“Ha, but nope.”

“Chocolate?”

“Hm. Nope.”

“I don’t know, orange?”

“Blackberry. Sweet, but just a tiny hint of sourness. Anything but boring, you know?”

Something about his words makes her shiver and squirm, and she quickly looks away so he doesn’t see the blush creeping over her cheeks.

It’s weird. It’s definitely weird to watch him order some ice cream for them, smiling all brightly when André tells them what a good-looking couple they make. He doesn’t protest, and she doesn’t either. It’s weird to accept the cone, a warm summer breeze travelling along her skin as they move on. It’s so weird that it eventually dawns on her, brows furrowing as the words slowly leave her lips.

“Is this a date?”

Adrien cocks an eyebrow at her, stopping the movement of his tongue on his ice cream for a moment. “Do you want it to be a date?”

She frowns. “Do you want it to be a date?”

“Counter-question.”

“You started it.”

“You asked first.”

She keeps staring at him. “You could have just asked me out instead of stealing my earring.”

He stares back. “And you would have definitely said yes.”

Okay, he has a point. She nibbles her ice cream, the sweet taste making her feel just a tiny bit less bad – and especially less embarrassed – about the whole ordeal.

Until she realizes how fucking absurd and stupid this entire situation really is.

“God damn it,” she hisses, decidedly dumping the rest of her cone into a nearby trash can, putting as much aggression into the gesture as possible. “What are you? Eight? You think stealing a girl’s stuff will make her like you? What’s next, you gonna pull my pigtails?”

Adrien seems unimpressed as he returns her look. “Kinky.”

She feels the anger pulsate inside her. She feels her hands shake and her eyes twitch. “Shut up! Don’t make this another one of your stupid games! What do you want, Agreste?”

Her voice was a tad too loud, and some people start watching them curiously. She feels herself blush at the unwanted attention. So she doesn’t protest when Adrien grabs her arm and decidedly pulls her on. He casually chews his last bit of ice cream cone until his hand is empty at last, and she does her best to keep her voice low as she keeps talking.

“Because seriously? Stealing my earring while we were …? That’s low. Really, really low. How much longer do you want to toy with me, huh? When could you just start becoming a bit more honest?” She gulps as they come to a halt in a small alley, abandoned and draped in shadows created by the buildings around them. “Or at least … Adrien, just … What are you trying to accomplish, really?”

Adrien looks at her. She is suddenly aware of how close they really are. And that no people are around them. And that she is entirely naked underneath the dress’s fabric. Her cheeks assume color anew. Goddamn asshole playing with her feelings like that, using her attraction to him to his own advantage, and she can’t bring herself to fight against it more vehemently.

She should be furious with herself, but she isn’t, and that’s the worst part.

He lifts his hand. She doesn’t shy away, not even when he touches her chin, when his thumb moves over the corner of her mouth. There’s something too gentle to the gesture, something that makes her melt on the spot. His eyes are suddenly drenched in solemnity, in pensiveness.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t know what you are doing to me.”

She shivers. “I’m not doing anything. You are the one bullshitting around.”

He laughs. His thumb is still on her skin. “Maybe I just can’t keep away from you,” he whispers.

Her heart flutters. Maybe it really is just a clumsy attempt at being closer to her. Because he isn’t entirely wrong. The thought of Chat asking her out is somehow funny to her, so surreal that she can’t properly imagine it.

After all, the only time she allows herself to take him seriously is when they are fighting yet another battle.

It’s not like he never left her any other choice. But the tune is entirely different now. It pushes and pulls, echoes and swirls, and she lets herself be led by the melody until she leans into his touch. She shouldn’t trust him. She should hate him. She really should.

But then, his fingers cup her cheek, and she is a goner.

Heat climbs up to her head, spreads through her veins, and she can’t do anything but submit to her cravings. Closing her eyes, she waits for him to take the last step. To take away her doubts and show her what he can’t say with words. To tell her about the crack in his well-constructed walls with a kiss alone.

She gasps when lips feather over hers. A faint touch that makes her toes curl. Their breaths mix as he changes the angle slightly, as his fingers ghost over her skin. She waits for seconds on end, the almost-kiss torturous and so sweet she resists the urge to crash her lips against his.

And then, finally, his lips softly push against hers.

She follows her instincts as she tilts her head, meeting the touch by moving her lips over his until the pressure increases. The sweet taste of blueberries still sticks to his lips. She hears him sigh, a tiny sound that makes her thoughts swirl, that makes her move against him more firmly, more demandingly. He doesn’t comply though. Instead, he draws away the tiniest bit, eliciting a frustrated noise from her. She can feel him grin against her lips, but she doesn’t have it in her to care anymore.

“Impatient, my lady?” she hears him murmur.

His voice makes her heart jump. She almost can’t react anymore when his lips graze hers again, when he carefully catches her lower lip between his own. Caressing her, probing her. Too softly, too gently, and she needs him, she needs him –

She wraps her arms around his neck and pushes herself against him, licking his lips so urgently she feels him shudder. His hands grab her waist, and he pushes her back, further and further until she stumbles against a cold wall, body shivering as it hits rough bricks.

And he finally kisses her like she needs him to.

Hungry lips devouring hers, licking into her mouth until she has no choice but to surrender. She catches the intense taste of sweet ice cream, and a hint of Adrien, and she moans when he pulls her into him harder, his body flush against hers. He gives a vibrating sound in return, tongue sweeping up every noise she makes for him as his body traps her in. A hand on her chin guides her, and he is panting when their lips part for a second only to find each other again, searching friction and heat.

She is melting. From top to bottom, inside out. Feels drunk on his kisses as he nibbles her lower lip, making her gasp loudly, making her body move against his. He groans, kisses her, kisses her again. Her fingers slide back to his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as she holds on to her last anchor left.

And fuck, she is turned on.

His kisses are too much. The way his tongue swirls over hers, teasing and probing until she presses back in the same vein. The way he overwhelms her, his heat too much to take. The way he draws back for a moment, his heady whisper breaking over her lips.

“Jesus, Marinette. You are too cute.”

She almost releases a whine, her eyes still closed enjoying every tiniest sensation. She lets herself be led into another greedy kiss, leaving her thoughts jumbled and fragmented. Their lips create wet noises, almost obscene in the quietness around them. Fire licks at her, fills the pit of her stomach until the throbbing between her legs is barely ignorable. She feels vulnerable, feels like her weakness could be used against her any moment now, and she presses her thighs together. But his hand wanders down her waist anyway, over her ass, to her thigh, and –

She squeaks when he hikes up her leg, cheeks turning seething hot in an instant. When she tries to move away, he just pulls her towards him again, fingers wandering further down until they reach her ass, squeezing roughly and causing her to gasp into his mouth.

He pauses, lips still on hers. Squeezes again. She whimpers, squirms, tries to move away without really wanting to, tries to escape his curious fingers as they dance over her skin until eventually, he leans away. The frown on his face is somehow odd, and in return, she frowns too.

“You aren’t wearing …” He stumbles over his own words for a moment. “Aren’t you … You didn’t …”

Her frown deepens. Even though his hips are pressing right against her arousal, his unusual reaction makes her forget what is really happening for a moment. “You told me to.”

“I told you to,” he repeats, staring at her in something that seems like awe. “No, I didn’t. Or rather, I didn’t think you would actually …”

“If you forgot, you blackmailed me.” Her cheeks become even hotter with every passing second. But her body is weak for him anyway, especially when he gulps, pressing his hips against hers and holding her gaze, his tongue wandering over his own lower lip in a tantalizingly slow manner.

“God, my lady,” he says lowly. “That’s what you did? Ran around in your cute dress all day, wearing nothing underneath? Hoping that I’d do what I promised, go to my knees the first opportunity I get and reward you for being that obedient?”

His hips grind against hers. Her nails bury themselves into his flesh, and she keeps herself from whimpering wildly by biting down on her lip. She’s starting to worry she’ll leave visible stains on the fabric, but even if she tried to get away, he wouldn’t let her.

“Just imagine if people saw. Bet they tried to. Bet some of them saw that perfect ass of yours and won’t stop thinking of you tonight.” He laughs. “Gotta admit, I don’t like that. You should be mine. No one else’s.”

His. And he should be hers.

She curses, feels her chest move in heavy breaths. His lips start spreading kisses over her neck as he keeps up a lazy rhythm against her hips, his hand on her rear exploring her soft flesh until her legs start shaking.

“Such a big mouth,” he growls, fingers biting into her flesh, turning sweet pain into surging pleasure, “when really, you love what I do to you. Don’t you? Tell me that you do. You love what a mess I make of you. Fuck, you love it.”

He sounds somehow desperate. The realization needs some time to become clear to her, but when it does, it won’t leave her mind. Because his discovery made him a blabbering mess in a matter of seconds, and his words are drenched in want, and really, it slowly dawns on her that it’s not him who is holding the reins here.

It’s her.

Marinette’s heart beats faster. It’s her. She’s having the upper hand now, whether he realizes it or not. She’s the one driving him that wild, no matter what he tries to make her think. That game they are playing isn’t tipped in his favor. The realization makes her mouth dry, makes her body tense, and when he moves his hand to her inner thigh, she grabs his arm.

“Adrien. Don’t.”

He stops. Moves away from her neck to look into her eyes. He is panting for air, seems breathless and needy.

“Don’t what?” he replies. “Nobody’s gonna see us here.”

“That’s not the point.” She frees herself from his grasp until she can stand on her own feet again, his hand coming to rest on her waist instead. “Point is, you were being a douchebag.”

A smirk twitches onto his lips.

“And I won’t reward you for that.”

“Despite being a good girl and following my every command? That’s funny.”

She glowers at him. “See, and that’s exactly why I won’t let you touch me anymore until I get back that earring.”

“You won’t –”

With that, she decidedly moves a hand between their bodies, pressing her palm against his crotch. He hisses in a breath, one hand finding purchase on the wall behind her. His eyes are still on hers. She watches intently as she rubs her hand against him, up, then down, feeling for the outline of his arousal.

“See what I could do for you if you weren’t being such an asshole?” she purrs, watching in delight as he closes his eyes, as he readily leans into her touch. “Just imagine, Adrien. And if we were partners, we could celebrate every victory with some good, nice …” She doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, she grabs his cock through his jeans, giving it a squeeze that makes him shudder and groan.

The feeling of having such power over him is electrifying. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move away; just lets her do as she pleases. Her own knees are getting wobbly, but she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she places a chaste kiss on his cheek, giving his crotch another squeeze.

“Too bad that it isn’t going to happen,” she mumbles, and eventually slips away from him.

She is so wet that she feels it with every tiny step she takes as she leaves Adrien behind. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s embarrassing, and knowing what did this to her turns her on so much her thighs are shaking. It takes some seconds until she can hear steps following her.

“Playing games, are you? How naughty.” His laugh sounds too strained to be as easy-going as he tries to seem.

“No, I’m not playing games.” She glances at him over her shoulder. Takes in his pinkish cheeks, his ragged breath, his darkened eyes. “I’m just telling you the truth. Give me my earring, and I’ll think about letting you touch me again.”

He catches up to her. When he tries to wrap an arm around her waist, she quickly swats his hand away. He snorts, tucking his hands into his pockets instead. “Tease. As if you aren’t ready to beg for my touches.”

She kind of is. Because the tingling sensation between her legs screams to be taken care of, and his kisses were too goddamn good to get out of her mind, but still. She won’t give in. Not that easily.

“Oh, kitty.” She smiles at him. “Don’t play hell with this. We both know who will be begging to be touched.”

He gapes at her for a second too long. The shift in their dynamic sends a prickling feeling over her skin. She walks on, the empty alley slowly opening up into the main street, more and more people passing them by. Their shoulders almost brush. She doesn’t move away.

“So,” she says before he can find words again. “Ready to give me my earring?”

He keeps looking at her. “You think I’ll let you off the hook that easily?”

“I think you’ll regret it otherwise.”

Her words were so bold that she almost wants to take them back again. But it’s too late, and she shivers when his eyes wander down to her lips, when he swallows visibly. “And if I don’t have it with me right now?” he murmurs, his heat sweeping over to her.

Not as if she expected him to give in that easily either. It’s okay, she tells herself. Still plenty of opportunities left. So she smiles, tosses back her hair, and turns away from him.

“A pity, then. Thanks for the date, Adrien.”

She hears him laugh as she walks away from him. “Going home already?”

“Yep. Got some stuff to do, sorry.”

“Sure you do.”

He doesn’t follow her anymore, and she tugs at the hem of her dress more conspicuously than necessary, feeling his eyes on her all the while.

Adrien doesn’t text her the whole afternoon. Marinette can’t concentrate on anything. She tries to start some sketches only to stop and stare at her phone for seconds on end. Thinking about texting him. Teasing him until he’d finally give in and give her that goddamn earring.

She has no idea why he has to make it that hard to genuinely trust him.

“I don’t understand a lot about human attraction,” Tikki says as she catches Marinette staring at her phone yet again, “but are you sure it will be enough to keep Chat Noir from his antics?”

Marinette bites her lip. “It could backfire. Badly.”

Tikki’s eyes fill with worry. “What will you do then?”

Taking a deep breath, Marinette turns back to her sketchbook. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Because it still feels like a game. One that turns more dangerous by the second. One that she can’t seem to get out of. Unpredictable and unforeseeable. It makes her tense, it makes her unable to find rest, and when nighttime arrives, he still hasn’t texted her.

She wishes Alya a good night who yawns at her in return as she enters her own room, and Marinette puts in her single earring. Just as a precaution. Still no notification from him on her phone. She holds back from checking his online status, and then, she grits her teeth and pulls out the Miracle Box. It’s hidden between her clothes, covered by several layers, and Tikki watches her as she pulls out the Mouse Miraculous. Mullo appears before her, blinking at her in surprise.

“Oh, Marinette! Hi, hi, how are you?”

Marinette tries to smile. “Not too swell, but I’ll manage. I might use your help, though.”

“Sure, sure!” Mullo excitedly zips towards Tikki, circling her a few times. “Hi, Tikki, hi, how are you? You okay, you okay?”

Tikki giggles, and Marinette lets the two kwamis be as she puts on the necklace. She touches the pendant with a deep breath. She would love to trust him. With her all.

Somehow, it’s not fair.

While the two kwamis excuse themselves to another room, Marinette eventually goes to bed and turns to her side, her earring pressed against the pillow. Her thoughts are still going in circles. She thinks about getting  her earring back right at that moment. Just break into his apartment, not show him any mercy anymore. It would be the smart thing to do.

When did she ever do the smart thing?

She is falling asleep already, the night’s faint noises surrounding her, when a sound suddenly makes her startle from her half-conscious state. Her heart beats up to her throat. She isn’t surprised too much when she finds a dark figure on her windowsill, green cat eyes watching her movements.

“Good evening, my lady.”

She flinches. Sits up, the blanket falling from her upper body. She almost wants to laugh, but she holds back the sound. Instead, she watches him in return. Moonlight glowing over his suit, drenching him in silvery colors. She can’t make out his expression. Her hands start shaking.

Because cats can be fickle, and she has no idea how far she can still go.

“Chat Noir,” she whispers. “What a nice surprise.”

His cat tail flicks from left to right. She watches it, her eyes getting used to the darkness. She thinks she can see half a smile resting on his lips. He moves, jumps down from her window. Lands on his feet with unfair elegance. His motions are all smooth and easy, and she can’t budge even for a moment as he comes to a halt next to the bed, beckoning her closer with a finger.

She frowns. “You really think I’d hand over my earring that easily?”

His lips form a grin. “C’mere, princess.”

She suddenly feels exposed in only her thin shirt and her panties. She feels like she should fight against it, and she wants to trust him so hard it hurts. The necklace resting against her sternum suddenly feels too heavy, but at least it gives her a last sense of security. So she scoots forwards, pushing the blanket away from her. Closer, closer, until she sits at the edge of the bed. Until he lowers his hands, placing them left and right of her as he leans towards her, his face coming closer.

She watches him. She tenses up. Especially when his claw touches her neck, wanders lower, collarbone, then –

“I like your necklace, little mouse,” he says.

Her body reacts faster than her mind, and she flinches away.

His chuckle sounds unamused. Just as unamused as she feels. His hand still hovers in the air, and it twitches towards her before deciding otherwise, coming to rest on the bed again. She can’t get away from his eyes, glowing green in the night.

“Smart,” he says. “That you wouldn’t trust me.”

She doesn’t answer.

“That you’d keep playing games with me like that.”

“You aren’t making it easy to trust you,” she finally responds.

His smile softens. It’s almost a weird sight. Weird enough that she doesn’t move this time when he reaches for her empty earlobe. His fingers grasp it and start rubbing gently, and she swallows down the little hum dancing over her tongue at the touch.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” he mutters. “You’re right.”

His words make her tense up anew. But before she can decide to move away, he reaches for something on his belt, and she feels cold metal against her earlobe. Her breath gets stuck in her throat. It only takes him a few seconds to insert the earring, carefully putting in the stud. She watches his face. How his smile drops, how he concentrates on not hurting her.

When he is done, she reaches up to feel for the shape of the earring. Their fingers brush in the process. She keeps them in place.

“You aren’t just giving me a duplicate, are you?” she whispers.

He cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t smile. “At least your wariness is understandable. Ask your kwami, why don’t you?”

Fuck. She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to think. Of all possible outcomes, she didn’t expect him to not even put up a little fight. Her heart is beating so fast she is feeling dizzy, and when he wants to remove his hand again, the words slip out of her mouth quickly and needily.

“Keep touching me. Please.”

Chat pauses. She doesn’t avoid his intense look. He swallows down a breath, and then, he gently keeps rubbing her earlobe. She gives in this time, lowering her hand. Allows herself to indulge in the tingling feeling of his claws feathering over her skin, his fingers pulling softly and teasing her until she gives a noise, keeping herself from biting her lip.

“Like that?” he whispers.

“Yes.” She shivers when she hears her own voice, weak and vulnerable. “It’s … My ears are my weak spot.”

He laughs for a second. “Already guessed so.”

It’s almost embarrassing how much she enjoys his little touches. She melts as his claws lightly scratch over her outer ear, as he pulls harder at her earring, making her close her eyes. Little feelings dance through her stomach, pool between her legs, and she gets so turned on she gives a tiny moan, trying to lean into his touch. He is still hovering over her, so close she resists the urge to wrap her legs around him and pull him closer, to have him press her into the mattress and use her body to his liking.

“Where else do you want to be touched?” he asks, watching her face. Eyes sparkling with the same hunger she feels, and she keeps their gazes locked as she lifts her hand, as she taps against her lips softly. He smiles in a way that makes her shudder from head to toe, and his claws wander from her jaw to her chin, tracing the shape of her lips. “Hm, here? Like that?”

“No,” she breathes. “Kiss me. Please, kiss me.”

His smile drops. His fingers tremble against her skin as he leans closer, angling his face until their lips almost touch. She exhales audibly, but doesn’t move towards him. Waits and waits for him to make the last step.

Warm lips press against hers.

She almost whines. She pushes back, gives more, gives everything, needs him so much she is going crazy. Their lips part, brush over each other, find each other again. Marinette buries a hand in his hair, pushing him against her as their kisses get greedier, as his tongue wanders over her lower lip, as his teeth sink into it and suck and pull until she is seeing stars. A strained sound escapes her. She pulls him into her, pulls and pulls until she wraps her arms around his neck and drags him down with her. He follows without a single protesting sound. Instead, he supports himself by propping an elbow next to her head, and his other hand is still on her face, claws softly wandering over her skin as their kiss continues.

There’s nothing more perfect than his weight holding her down and his lips caressing hers, nothing that could make her lose her mind like this. She parts her legs for him, locking her feet behind his hips, trying to be as close to him as she possibly can. Feels his leathery tail wrap around her knee and tug her even closer. She pulls at his hair, rewards him with a moan when he moves against her body, when his tongue explores her mouth feverishly. She doesn’t want him to stop. She never wants him to stop. Her hands roam his back, shoulders to hips, feeling for every tiny hint of muscles underneath his suit, discovering him in a way she was never allowed to before.

Chat moves away from her lips. She whines, but a wet kiss is placed on her neck just a second afterwards, and every sound she makes turns into a high-pitched moan. His nose brushes her jaw, and he licks a path down to her shoulder, his hand following the movement.

She is gasping for air; can’t concentrate on anything else but his touches. His fingers on her collarbone, further down. Tracing the shape of her breast underneath her thin shirt, making her give a needy sound, making her squirm until he finally cups her breast so roughly her back arches. He pinches her nipple just a second afterwards, overwhelming her with sensations.

“You wanna be touched like that?” he asks, voice raspy.

“Yes,” she whispers immediately. “Please, more, more –”

Her prayers are rewarded when he hitches up her shirt, pulling it over her head eventually. Warm leather rubs against her naked skin. He starts massaging her breast, his palm teasing her nipple in just the right way, appreciative sighs spilling from her throat.

“Love it when you’re being that honest,” he murmurs, placing a light kiss on her untouched nipple. She arches against the touch, her body too hungry for him. “When you only have eyes for me.”

She can’t properly think about his words. Not when he kisses her stomach softly, his hands wandering on to her waist, leaving her breasts in coldness. She tries to get her thoughts in order, tries to bring out more than needy moans, but she simply can’t.

Chat looks up at her as he sinks down from the bed, pulling her forward by the waist. Their gazes stay locked while he kisses her inner thigh, his tongue licking up the taste of her skin. The feeling is too much, and she notices her legs twitching at his soft ministrations, feels her wet arousal beneath her panties.

“I only have eyes for you, Marinette.” His claws dig into her thighs, spreads them apart in front of him. “Only you.”

She wants to respond, but then, his teeth close around her clit over her panties’ fabric, the bite soft enough to hurt in just the right way. She almost thrashes out in untamable pleasure, and she smacks a hand over her mouth to smother her cry, feeling one of his fingers press against her wetness through already damp fabric.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he says, and this time, she doesn’t need to think twice about it before the words leave her lips in a hurry.

“Fuck, Adrien, eat me out – please, fuck me with your lips, with your tongue, please –”

Chat groans, and instead of pulling her panties down her hips, he suddenly grabs them. A ripping sound is the only indication of what he just did. She is about to protest wildly as the realization hits her, but the words get lost in nothingness when he tosses the ruined piece of fabric aside and leans back down. Pushing her legs apart, his hard breaths meeting her slick folds until his tongue forces itself into her, teasing her entrance. Her hips almost buck into his face, and she releases an uncontrollable moan as his tongue licks up her taste as if never having had a better feast. He grabs her hips, forcing her down onto the mattress. She whimpers, curses when he sucks at her clit roughly, her legs on his shoulders starting to shake.

“Oh god, Chat,” she brings out through ragged breaths, trying to watch him without falling apart on the spot. “Chat, I can’t – yes, fuck –”

Chat moans, brows furrowing as he works her higher and higher. Her hand sneaks into his hair, pushes him against her harder, rubbing one of his cat ears between her fingers and feeling him shudder beneath her. He presses his tongue flat against her clit, teases it with the tip of his tongue, glances up at her with darkened eyes as sound after sound slips from her lips. He has never looked more beautiful than this, face buried between her thighs, licking and sucking with a dedication that makes her see stars. He knows just what to do, knows just where to touch her to rip desperate moans from her throat. She already feels her pleasure crumbling at the seams, feels it climbing over her skin, and she throws back her head with a mewl.

“I’m – Chat, I’m going to, I’m –”

He suddenly lifts his head, leaving her in coldness.

For a moment, Marinette is so perplexed that her hand just uselessly slides from his head. There’s a twinkle in his eyes she doesn’t know what to do with. His breaths are just as hard as hers, and he makes a show of licking his lips, giving her a lopsided grin.

“You stopped,” she realizes. Her pleasure subsides slowly, being replaced by agonizing need. “Why did you stop?”

“You were about to come, weren’t you?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it again. “I – yes, I … I mean, yes, just …”

“You know …” He spreads her folds with his fingers, leans down again. Puffs a breath against her slickness. She shudders, gasps, her fingers cramping into the sheet. “I didn’t appreciate your little show today. Getting so worked up yourself, and then leaving me standing like that? I think I need to punish you for being such a tease.”

“Punish?” she repeats, her sluggish brain trying to catch up.

“Mm-hmm. I have an idea how.”

Upper body propped up, she watches him stick out his tongue, licking her more slowly this time. From her entrance up to her slickened clit, swirling around it before he moves down again. Pleasure grows inside her once more, makes her sigh and moan as he keeps up his touches, lapping up her juices, pressing against spots until she closes her eyes, hips starting to move on their own. His fingers are keeping her folds spread, revealing all of her to him. His slow, appreciative licks make her shudder all over, and the way he kisses her lower lips is enough to make her thighs quiver. Her head drops back at the incredible sensation. He is eating her out thoroughly and carefully, seeming to savor every tiniest second, humming against her arousal until the pleasure builds and builds.

Her legs tense. Hot-white pleasure curls in her stomach in wave after wave – about to snap – and she starts blabbering, begging him not to stop, just don’t stop, and she’s sure she is going to come, is going to –

He lifts his head again, chin glistening with her slick arousal, and she gives a frustrated noise, reaching for his head to get his tongue where she needs it. But instead of complying, he catches her wrist and presses a kiss against her palm.

“You’re an asshole,” she hisses, removing his hand from his grasp. “Stop teasing me!”

“Oh, like you teased me?” He grins, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. Her wetness sticks to the leather suit, glistening in the moonlight. “No, I don’t think I’m done yet.”

“Fucking bastard,” she huffs. “You’re such a –” He grabs her thighs so hard she whimpers, and he kisses her mound again, sliding down to her clit to tease it between his teeth until she nearly sobs. “Such a … Oh god, Chat, you’re – seriously, fuck you, fuck me, just –”

He chuckles against her, and when she grabs his hair and forces him closer to her, he moans and licks obediently. She concentrates on his movements, gets him exactly where she needs him. Tries to coax him into getting her to her peak by moaning her approval, by succumbing to his slowness, letting him relish the sounds he draws from her, letting him do as he pleases until she gently brushes her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes, waiting for the moment she stumbles and breaks and becomes his in every way, her moans becoming louder and hastier –

He shifts away again.

She almost wants to scream. Her orgasm is so close she can practically taste it, and in her state of desperation, she already moves a hand to her clit to get herself off. But of course he stops her, grabbing her wrist and lifting her hand to press a kiss against every single fingertip. His eyes are full of mischief as he grins at her.

“You can’t be serious,” she groans. “What the fuck, Chat!”

“Aw, getting desperate for me, are you?” he purrs.

Fuck this. Seriously, fuck this. She abruptly sits up, and he seems so surprised by her reaction that his grin immediately drops. Kneeling before the bed, he looks up at her, and she grasps his chin, leaning down to lick her own taste from his skin. A bit salty, just the tiniest bit sweet, and she sighs before kissing him for seconds on end.

She moves her lips to his ear. “Sit down on my chair, kitty. And don’t you dare move a millimeter.”

He stares at her. Releases a laugh. “Why would I?”

“Because otherwise,” she mumbles, licks a path over his jaw before she arrives at his lips again, “I’ll kick your ass out of the room and finish what you started all on my own.”

He lets himself be kissed another time. Slowly stands up, lips still on hers. Then he takes a step back. Eyes her intently. She feels her pulsating need, pushes some hair out of her face, a layer of sweat having built on her forehead. For a moment, she thinks he won’t follow her command. That he will just sneer at her attempt to wrest control.

Or maybe she underestimated the power she can have over him. Because he moves to her chair, every step smooth and light, and he soundlessly slumps down, propping his cheek on one hand while the other lazily leans against the armrest. His legs are so far apart that she notices the evidence of his own arousal, and she bites back a sound at the sight, her fingers twitching to touch him.

She won’t, though.

Chat watches her, the tiniest of grins on his handsome face. She needs a second to pull herself together. Her legs are shaking when she stands up herself, turning her back on him before she crouches down to her nightstand, rummaging through the drawer.

“What are you searching for, little bug?” he purrs. “Don’t tell me you’ve got some dirty toys you wanna show me?”

He’s an asshole, she repeats to herself. And he needs to be shown proper consequences. So she takes a breath and straightens her back again, turning back to him. His eyes land on the item in her hands, and his eyebrows shoot up for a moment. With all his attention on it, she wraps her hands around it, letting her fingers play with the silicone as she moves back to the bed.

“See, Adrien, this could have been you.” She forces her voice to sound more confident than she really feels. Climbs back on the bed, shifts until the dildo sits right between her legs. Holding the shaft with one hand, she uses the other one to slowly stroke it, up and down and up again, teasing the tip with her thumb. “I bet you wish this was you. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. His hand twitches from the armrest to his crotch, and she stops her movements abruptly, glaring at him.

“Don’t. Don’t touch yourself.”

He pauses. Moves back his hand, releases an amused laugh. “What game are you playing now, my lady?”

“The one where I show you what you get for teasing me.” Her heart is thumping in her chest, and she shifts a bit more until she can lean down. Propped up one arm, making sure to watch him as she leads the dildo to her entrance, the first touch alone making her shiver. “But I’m a nice person, so you at least get to watch. Better say thank you, kitty.”

He keeps looking at her. His faux tail flicks over the floor, his cat ears twitch. Despite his lazy pose, she can see how tense his muscles are. “Thank you, kitty,” he replies, and he drags his tongue over his upper teeth.

She almost laughs. But the need to be filled becomes too much, and her eyes are still on him as she pushes in at last. She tries to do it slowly, to tease him the way he teased her, but still –

Being stretched like that feels too good, and she whimpers loudly, pushing in deeper, her toy brushing places that make the pleasure swell in an instant. Her toes curl, and she gives herself a little thrust, tries to find that one spot that makes her fall apart within seconds, and fuck –

She finds it. Pushes against it again, and it’s too much already, her world getting blurry as wild pleasure sweeps through her, as every second makes it feel better and better until she pushes even deeper. Her eyes roll back at the sensation, and she starts fucking herself in earnest, trying to muffle her sounds by biting her lip, getting lost in the perfect feeling of being filled like this. The rhythm she finds finally releases her from the torture Chat put her through, and she comes with a smothered cry, her high lasting and lasting as she keeps moving against her dildo.

“Fuck, Marinette,” she hears Chat groan. When she manages to focus on him again, she sees his chest move in heavy breaths, his eyes hazed with lust. Both his hands are on the armrests now, gripping them so hard his fingers almost shake. “That’s how you like it? Deep and slow? That’s how you get yourself off?”

Something about his voice spurs her on, makes a hot shower engulf her. Her body moves with her own thrusts, shudders and rewards her with sweet pleasure every time she pushes especially deep. She’s so wet her movements leave lewd noises with every thrust she grants herself, and she goes faster, hitting against the deepest spot she can reach until her high-pitched moans become tiny desperate cries.

“Oh, or you don’t?” Chat growls, his voice heavy with agonizing desire. “You just wanna be fucked well, huh? Doesn’t matter how. Just want someone to fill you good, right?”

“Not someone,” she replies without thinking, her words cracking at the seams. “You.”

She sees him tremble. She sees his knuckles stand out as he grips the armrest even harder. She thinks she can see his hips move with hers, and imagining that it could be him fucking her like that, that it could be him who is driving her that high in a matter of seconds sends another rippling orgasm through her whole body. She’s lost in a wave of pleasure that doesn’t seem to end, pounding her toy into herself until her hand starts hurting from the hasty movements. She can’t even count the times she comes anymore. It’s all just a blurry, sweaty mess.

And Chat is still watching her.

His are eyes following her movements. His Adam’s apple bobbing, his body twitching, certainly dying to replace her toy with his hard cock. The thought of him ramming into her, pleasuring her, filling her with his cum makes her whimper wildly. She feels her walls clench around the dildo again, another orgasm hitting her so deep her fingers cramp into the bedsheets, and she only stops pounding into herself when her hand starts hurting too much, her breaths leaving her in quick huffs.

“Must be getting tired, little bug,” Chat purrs, heavy-lidded eyes not letting go of her. “Let me make you feel good. Let me take over from here.”

She is tempted to let him. To just give in and let him do with her as he pleases. But again, she reminds herself that he was being an asshole for no reason at all. So she pushes in again, so deep she gives a strained moan, so deep that she even hears Chat groan, and it only takes a few more lazy thrusts to make her come again, her whole body writhing at yet another high.

“You wish you could have fucked me like that, huh?” she brings out, finally removing the toy from herself, watching the string her arousal drip from the tip to her entrance. She catches it with her fingers, gives herself a second to slow down her breathing.

“I do,” Chat answers, and his sudden honesty makes her shudder.

“Well. You could have.” Her legs are shaking when she manages to stand up. Still, she holds her chin high as she approaches him. His eyes roam her body, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. She doesn’t stop until she slides onto his lap, suppressing a whimper when her swollen pussy presses against his erection, the layer of warm leather the only barrier between them. “But you decided to be a bad kitten, didn’t you?”

Chat breathes in, closes his eyes, his hips grinding against hers. When he tries to move his hand, she gives it a little slap. He leers at her.

“You promise to be a good kitty, and I might reward you,” she whispers.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. His heated look is answer enough. She could do with him whatever she wants, she realizes. She doesn’t have to be the one being at his mercy. Anything but. So she softly strokes his cheek, drags her thumb over his lower lip.

“You like how I taste?” she asks.

He hums, watching her out of lust-muddled eyes. “Can’t get enough of it.”

“Good.” She lifts the dildo that is still in her hand. Chat doesn’t need a lot of time to understand. Especially not when she lets the dildo’s tip rest against his lips, pushing just the tiniest bit. “Then lick it clean. And better be thorough.”

He keeps his eyes on her. Maybe she has gone too far. Maybe he will just scoff at her and move away. But he doesn’t. Instead, he opens his lips to suck at the tip, his tongue darting out to lick her wetness from the silicon. He moves on, tongue lapping up her juices, catching every drop. The toy rubs against his cheek, and she can’t stop watching. Can’t stop her breaths from wildly tumbling through her lungs. She didn’t even notice she started rocking against his hips gently, and her nails bite into his shoulder as he keeps cleaning her toy for her, glancing up at her all the while.

“Open your mouth, kitten,” she tells him quietly.

He does. Fuck. It’s incredible. It’s almost too much. Chat Noir, her enemy for years, letting her push her dick between his lips, waiting obediently for her to fill his mouth. He gives a sound when she pushes deeper, deeper.

“Relax,” she mumbles. “Trust me, Chat.”

He groans, closes his eyes at last. His pretty face all hers to do with as she pleases. She is careful not to push the dildo too deep, but still, she’s almost unable to hold herself back. She pulls out the tiniest bit. Pushes in again. He furrows his brows, and she bites her lip at the sight.

“Not as easy as it looks, is it? But honestly, you seem to be a natural at sucking dick.”

He groans again, and she feels something loop around her thigh, squeezing so hard she nearly gasps. His tail, seemingly having a life of its own, starts teasing her, dragging over her inner thigh softly. Chat opens his eyes slightly, glazed and heavy with arousal as she thrusts into his mouth again.

“Even enjoying it, are you? Who’s a naughty thing now, huh?”

She doesn’t protest as his tail tugs her into his lap, making her grind against him harder. He shudders, sucks her dildo with even more devotion, lets her thrust into him more harshly. It’s so hot she almost forgets how to breathe. So much so she rewards him with a slow, rough grind, making him moan around her dick.

“You like that?” she whispers. “Think you could come just by having me rub myself on you like that? Smearing my juices all over your suit? But of course you’d like that, my dirty kitten.”

His eyes search hers as he keeps licking and sucking. She wishes she could feel what he did to her toy for real. How good his dedicated tongue would feel on her sensitive skin. She needs more of him. She needs him. She does.

She pulls the dildo out of his mouth. A mess of drool is left behind, a string connecting the tip to his lips, eventually snapping and getting stuck on his chin. Chat licks most of it from his lips, but a trail of drool still escapes the corner of his mouth. He looks like a mess. Lips swollen, chest heaving with breaths, and she can’t hold back anymore. Carelessly dropping the dildo on the floor, she moves forward, grabbing his face and kissing him.

She doesn’t protest as he touches her after all, hands on her ass pushing her against him, grinding her pussy down until the friction makes her whimper onto his lips. She licks into his mouth, discovering her own faint taste still sitting on his tongue. Presses her body against his until nothing but his warmth surrounds her anymore. Everything loses meaning, nothing matters but him. The way their bodies move against each other, the way she searches for his warmth, the way his claws scratch over her ass, over the base of her spine, catching such sensible areas that her whole body trembles wildly.

She rocks against his lap. His reactions are driving her wild – how he reciprocates any movement, how he groans into her mouth until his fingers are between her hair, pushing her even closer. How he –

Her phone rings.

Marinette pauses. Backs away again. Chat gives her a questioning look, but her phone isn’t far away. She huffs out a breath before standing up, not going too far while his cat tail is still wrapped around her leg. When she looks at the display, she sees Alya’s name.

Eyebrows knitted, she picks up. “Alya?”

“Yeah, hi. Marinette, uh, awkward request, but could you tone down your – well, joyous sounds?”

Oh. Oh god.

Alya clears her throat. “You didn’t react to my texts and I’m really sorry to ruin your fun. You know I’d just use earplugs and let you enjoy your evening any other day, but I have an important exam tomorrow and you’ve been going at it for half an eternity, and –”

Marinette blushes up to her hairline. “Oh, sure, oh my god, sorry,” she mumbles. “We’re – I mean – no joy anymore. I mean, no sounds. Sorry. I’m very sorry, I –”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know that yes, I want to know everything, bestie. Sorry, but if you wanted to be sneaky, you kinda failed.”

Marinette feels like dying on the spot. “I … Yeah, I just, I really …”

“Like I said, no worries. Good night, hun. Love you.”

“Um … I … Uh. Good night.” She pushes down her phone. “Fuck.”

“Mm, now? But gladly,” Chat’s voice reaches her. He walks up behind her, lips on her jaw as he rubs his obvious erection against her ass. She bites her lip. Curses internally, holding herself back from enjoying his touches, his tail giving her thigh a squeeze and his hands caressing her waist. “Want me to bend you over the desk? Just say the word, my lady.”

She sighs heavily. “Alya heard us. You have to go.”

“Or you keep quiet.” One of his hands wanders up to her face, and she shudders all over when he covers her mouth with it. “You were such a good girl last time. Bet you can do it again, no?”

She is tempted to give in. She grinds her ass against his hips, causing him to groan into her ear, his palm muffling her sounds. Sighing again, she grabs his wrist and pushes it down.

“No. No, this isn’t going to work.” She turns around to him, his tail falling from her in the process only to wander up to her waist instead. “You’ll have to take care of it yourself.”

He gives a discontent sound. Leans down to capture her lips in a long, toe-curling kiss. “Transform,” he whispers to her. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. Let me fuck you all night. Let me worship you.”

She almost whimpers, letting his lips wander over her cheek.

“On the Eiffel Tower. Or on a random rooftop in the middle of nowhere. We could find an empty whirlpool, or we could find a nice little place in the Parc des Buttes Chaumont. Or,” he kisses the corner of her mouth, “you come to mine, and I’ll treat you like the princess you are. Spoil you the whole night. As often as you want to.”

She wants to say yes. She wants to. But something holds her back after all, and she lets him kiss her one last time before she lightly pushes him back, looking into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Chat, but please go home,” she says.

He watches her. His grin doesn’t reach his eyes. “Tease,” he mumbles, touches her ear. “At least all is as it should be again, huh?”

She doesn’t answer. She waits until he takes a step back from her. His tail pulls her along anyway, and she walks with him, step after tiny step until she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him hungrily, her fingers raking through his hair.

“Don’t worry,” she breathes over his lips. “You were such a good kitten. You’ll get your reward, you’ll see.”

He laughs quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. “The only reward I need is you.”

She feels her heart jump. She feels her jaw tremble. But before she can think about his words, his cat tail already slips from her waist, and he jumps up the windowsill, melting with the shadows of the night.

She looks after him. Tries to control her breathing. Eventually searches for her shirt on the floor, and rolls her eyes at her ripped panties. Asshole.

An asshole she won’t be able to get out of her head anytime soon, that is.

Chapter Text

It shouldn’t surprise her to see Chat Noir watching while she is fighting another akumatized villain. But it feels just a tad different.

Ladybug notices him from the corners of her eyes as she dodges attacks. A shadow following her every movement, all lazy smiles and twinkling eyes. He doesn’t interfere in her fight. Only watches, every second licking at her like fire.

He lets her defeat the villain. He is leaning against a wall, watching from a good distance as her Lucky Charm fixes everything, playing with the baton in his hand. When their eyes meet, a shudder runs through her, making her dizzy in a matter of seconds.

The day is saved. The first flashes of cameras surround her. Chat Noir lifts his hand, beckoning her closer with a finger before he vanishes into the shadows of an abandoned alley.

She excuses herself and follows him quickly. Nobody is able to really follow her, and she ignores all questions that are still tossed her way. Swinging her yo-yo, leaving an audible thud as she lands in the alley. Chat Noir is nowhere to be seen. She wanders through darkness, looking for glowingly green eyes, for anything at all, and –

Ladybug almost can’t dodge the swing of his baton. She presses out a breath as she ducks, and her reflexes are faster than her mind, allowing her to catch the baton with her yo-yo. Her plans of restricting his movements are cut short when he aims a kick at her. She evades the attack, the string of her yo-yo losing its tension and letting him regain control of his weapon. In the darkness of the alley, he seems like another shadow melting with his surroundings, but her body is reacting to him immediately, ready to defend herself.

“Fancy seeing you here, little bug,” Chat purrs, and he attacks again.

Their dance has never been more attuned. Attack – parry – repeat. Every step becomes something she can easily anticipate, patterns that are playful and familiar. They move with their attacks, and Ladybug almost starts feeling giddy, searching for a weak spot, for anything at all, for –

She didn’t expect him to suddenly push her into a construction area, though. A building with no doors nor windows, walls grey and cold, and she wheezes out a breath as she tries to find a stable stance again. Sees him grin at her, the darkness of the empty building closing in on them. It’s cold and lonely in here, and even if someone were to pass by the construction area, they probably wouldn’t be able to take notice of them.

She aims her next attack. A swift kick to his stomach, and of course he dodges it, and instead of doing the smart thing and bringing some distance between them again, she dives forward. Grabs his bell, yanks him closer, and crashes her lips against his.

Chat’s reaction is so immediate she shivers. He groans, his baton giving a clanking sound in the empty space as he lets it drop to the ground. He grabs her waist, pulls her flush against him. Their kiss becomes a continuation of their fight, unforgiving and feverish. Their tongues meet and swirl, and she is already familiar with the sensation of his tail tugging her closer, closer still, until he shoves her against one of the cold walls.

“Took care of yourself?” she whispers between kisses, hand wandering down to his stomach, teasing him with well-aimed little touches. He takes a deep breath, his lips wandering to her jaw.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She releases an approving noise, hand wandering just a bit lower, giving his belt a little pull. “Hm, you couldn’t,” she purrs, delighting in the way he shivers for her. “That’s good. Thought about my hand? My mouth?”

“God, Marinette,” he hisses. “Both. Both, everything, you, all of you.”

She bites her lip. There’s something incredibly hot to the way he seeks her touch. Instead of granting him such, she reaches for his bell, giving it a light pull. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move away, and she starts dragging down the zipper. Revealing more and more of his skin. Shadows dancing over his abs, and she hums in appreciation at the sight, her suit-clad fingers tracing invisible lines down his muscular chest and over his stomach.

The zipper ends at his hips, and she decidedly grabs his arms, reversing their positions until she is pushing him against the wall instead. She needs to go on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

His hands feel for the shape of her ass as she splays her fingers over his chest, as she lets her lips wander from his neck to his collarbone, spreading tiny kisses over his warm skin. She hears him breathe hard, hears him hum and moan quietly, and knowing that she can elicit such sounds from him by doing almost nothing at all makes her thighs shake in an instant. She explores his stomach thoroughly, brushes her palms over his sides, kisses every patch of naked skin she can reach until eventually –

Her hand slips into his leather suit, and she grabs his hardening dick.

He hisses, then laughs. “Mm, my lady,” he purrs, buckling into her touch with his eyes closed, his head tipped back. “Just as impatient as I am, huh?”

She licks her lips, watches his face. “I’d rather you come inside my mouth, but I’m gonna live with this.”

He groans loudly. Especially when her grasp around him tightens, when she slowly starts moving her hand up and down, the opened suit giving her little room to play with. He squeezes her ass, palms coming to rest on her waist as she watches him intently. Her fingertips wander over his tip, feel for the form, for smooth skin until she moves further down again, softly scraping her nails over places that can make him all but go crazy, maddened by lust. A groan escapes him yet again.

She memorizes every tiny reaction. The way he trembles when she presses her thumb against a particular vein. The pressure she has to use to make his brows furrow. The places she has to pay attention to in order to make his hips rock forward. His chest heaving, his blond hair messily falling over his face, his leathery tail slowly dragging up and down her thigh, attuned to the movements of her hand.

He is beautiful. So fucking beautiful she has to hold back a whimper from escaping her.

“You liked watching me fuck myself, didn’t you?” she whispers, keeping up her pumps. Her unoccupied hand travels down to his thigh, giving it a good squeeze. “Honestly? Can’t decide what I like better. You or my toy. Your cock feels amazing inside me, after all.”

She feels his claws dig into her suit. If it wasn’t for the magic of their suits, she’s sure he would have already ripped holes into it. But this way she hardly feels any pain, its slight hint only causing her to tremble wildly.

“Does it?” he rasps, eyes still closed. Seemingly struggling to get out any word at all. “You feel amazing too. You – shit, Ladybug …”

She finds a rhythm she’s comfortable with, teasing his tip every now and then, waiting for the moment she can finally catch a drop of precum. He readily follows her movements. Gives himself to her in every way. She suddenly understands the appeal of having someone at her mercy. It makes her heart beat wildly. It makes her feel like a goddess. She lets her nails sink into his thigh, feels his tail dig into her flesh in return, watches him press the back of his head against the wall as he bites his lip. She can’t hold back from leaning forward, licking a path over his neck to catch any drop of sweat she can reach.

A moan escapes her when she finally finds a drop of liquid on his tip. She spreads it with her fingertips as she grips him harder, kisses his neck, listens to the breaths tumbling through his throat. Her teeth graze his skin, and she hears him moan when she bites him gently, teasing his skin with her tongue.

“Maybe I should stop right now,” she mutters, her hand pumping him faster. “Leave you hanging. Like you did with me.”

Chat growls, rocks into her touch. “Don’t.”

She can’t bite back a grin as she leans away, looking at his face. “Then beg, kitten.”

He opens his eyes. Seems to want to laugh, but doesn’t. Instead he licks his lower lip, darkened eyes not letting go of hers. “Please, Marinette. I’m yours. Do with me whatever you want, but don’t fucking stop.”

Arousal floods her in a wave she didn’t expect. Her knees get wobbly as she follows his pleas. Gripping him even harder, feeling his velvety skin beneath her fingers, listening to his moans as he closes his eyes again, as his face contorts. She can’t bring out a word. She wants to kiss him so bad it starts to hurt.

So she does.

Her unoccupied hand reaches for the back of his head, leads him towards her lips. It’s sloppy, almost erratic, and she loves it. Loves how he grunts into her mouth, how his body moves with the strokes she grants him, how she can feel him tense and tremble, how his dick pulsates in her hand. His claws dig into her flesh with even more strength, holding her in place, not letting her go. She needs to feel him come, needs to be the one to take him to his peak.

She feels the warm liquid before he moans against her lips, the tension in his body intensifying, spurts meeting her palm. She can’t help but mewl with him, spurring him on with tiny words of praise. Giving him the last few pumps, riding it out with him, letting him bask in the feeling of finally stumbling over the edge. It takes seconds until Chat seems to slump against the wall, his leathery tail dropping from her thigh, and it takes even more time until she can open her eyes to look at him.

Neck reddened, sweat glistening on his forehead, quick breaths spilling from his lips. He looks exhausted, and satisfied, and like a demigod reveling in his own pleasure. A sight worthy of being memorized forever.

Still regarding him, she pulls her hand out from his suit. Milky-white liquid sticks to her fingers, and she starts licking up every drop she can reach. A bit salty, the texture anything but pleasant, but knowing that this is the result of her efforts makes her moan around her fingers. Chat’s eyelids flutter open, and it seems like a breath gets stuck in his throat as he watches her.

“Fuck, my lady,” he mutters. “You really are too much.”

“And you love it,” she returns, holding his gaze as she licks the last tiny drops from her palm.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “I do.”

Before she can even swallow the last drop, he grabs her face and kisses her fiercely, hungrily. She gives in. Lets his tongue wander over her teeth, lets him pull at her lower lip until pain mixes with pleasure. When his hand wanders between her thighs, she gives it a slap and leans back, panting for air.

“Later,” she tells him. “Still gotta be somewhere in the afternoon.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You really don’t want me to return the favor?”

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to do so.” She plays with the bell now sitting at his hips. Starts pulling it up slowly. “Think of something creative, will you?”

“Something creative,” he repeats, eyes shimmering in mischief. “Sure you won’t regret that little request?”

“Pretty sure,” she breathes. Gives his bell a flick as soon as it’s positioned at his neck again. “Surprise me, kitty.”

She slips from his grasp, gives him one last smirk before she aims her yo-yo and leaves.

And there’s one thing Marinette forgot about: Alya.

This particular problem becomes pretty apparent when Marinette steps into their apartment. It’s late afternoon, her last lecture for today is done, and Alya is doing the dishes in the kitchen when she notices Marinette. They exchange a long look. Marinette ducks her head, and Alya raises her eyebrows, and eventually, a clink echoes through the room when Alya decidedly places a wine glass on the kitchen island.

“Is there something you wanna tell me, bestie?”

“Um.” Marinette tries to smile. “No? No. Yes? I mean, um.”

“Because whoever that mysterious guy was, he audibly rocked your world, I guess.”

“Um …”

Alya chooses red wine this time. Casually fills Marinette’s glass first, then her own. “And I didn’t know anything about it. Do I know him?”

Marinette’s throat closes up. “Well, uh …”

Alya looks at her. Squints slightly. “Was it Adrien?”

“What?” Marinette spits out immediately, her face turning so red that she feels like she’s overheating. “No! No. Of course not. Oh my god! No.”

See, technically she isn’t lying, right? Kind of. Oh god. Because Alya doesn’t stop looking at her funnily, she panics so hard that she almost knocks over the glass she reaches for.

“In fact,” she quickly adds, “it’s someone you definitely don’t know.”

“Okay. Someone you know, but I don’t.”

Marinette almost chokes. “Not even I know him too well! Yup, nobody. Nobody knows him.”

Alya frowns. “So … You brought home a stranger?” Then she fidgets. “Look, I’m not judging. Bring home any stranger you want. It’s just not … I didn’t think you’d … I mean, good for you! Just …” She nods decidedly. “You can do whatever you want. Go, girl! Just choose your strangers well, will you?”

The pinch of concern lacing her voice is somehow endearing, and Marinette can’t hold back a little smile. “I will choose my strangers as well as I can. And preferably not right before you gotta study for important exams.”

Alya waves her off. “Hey, no problem. I’m happy if you’re happy, and that’s all that counts, right?”

“I … Thank you.” To get away from Alya’s eyes that can surely read any truth from her face with ease, Marinette takes a sip of her wine.

“Although Adrien will be less than happy with that, I bet.”

Her sip almost gets stuck in her throat. “He – no – please, Alya. We’ve been over this.”

“I know. Sorry, sorry.” Alya sighs. “As weird as watching you two is, it would have kind of made sense.”

Marinette almost wants to laugh. Then again, she really doesn’t. The question gets stuck on her tongue, but she can’t hold it back anymore. “How so?” she whispers.

“Well. Let me see.” Alya leans over the kitchen island, wine glass in her hand. “I guess it’s just – he could calm you down. You could care for him, and I think that’s exactly what he needs. You just … fit. And …” She shrugs. “You’re both fundamentally good people. I think you’d deserve each other.”

Marinette forces her face not to fall. She can’t let herself question how true this statement really is. It’s too late to turn back now. It’s too late to deny the obvious.

“Yeah,” she mumbles instead. “That’s – thanks, Al. But you can’t choose who you’re attracted to, right?”

“In some way. Maybe.” Alya purses her lips. “Anyway. Your stranger. I want to know everything about him. Level of kinkiness –”

Marinette sighs. “Alya –”

“Dick size –”

“Alya!”

“What? It’s essential info. He made you scream a lot, so I’m betting on …” With her wine glass still in her hand, Alya implies a certain length. Marinette feels herself blush so hard her sight gets blurry.

She gulps. Puts her wine glass on the kitchen island. Gingerly takes hold of Alya’s free hand and moves it to the side a little more. All the while, mouth falling agape, Alya stares at her.

“No,” she breathes. “What?”

“You –” In a burst of embarrassment, Marinette forces Alya’s hand down for good. “You asked!”

“Yes – but – damn, girl! That’s a keeper.” Alya winks. “Judging from your screaming, at least.”

Internally dying, Marinette groans and hides her face on the kitchen island.

The next day at the cafeteria, Alya looks up from her phone, sending Marinette a wide-eyed look. “Uh, so, Nino just texted me.”

Marinette frowns. “Okay?” she responds, shoving a mouthful of pasta between her lips.

“Yeah. He wants to join us for lunch.”

“Sure thing. Why are you still looking so panicked?”

Alya’s eyes twitch down to her phone again. “Because he’ll take a certain blondie with him. If that’s okay with you. I mean, you two did seem kinda chummy during the party, so …”

Marinette stops chewing for a second. She doesn’t show that her heart beats up to her throat. Instead, she nods carefully. “Oh, yeah, not a problem with me.”

Not a problem at all. Because it’s not like she woke up to Adrien’s texts, telling her how he couldn’t wait to pay her back and then some. How only the thought of tasting her makes his mouth water. How beautiful she looks when she comes for him, and only him.

Yeah, not a problem at all.

Her eyes glide to the entrance of the dining hall every now and then, and it doesn’t take long until she sees blond hair and a brilliant smile. Of course Adrien looks as perfect as always, a kind of boyish charm to him that is nearly irresistible. It makes Marinette giddy that hardly anyone knows about his cocky side, knows how to break him in the most delicious way, how goddamn beautiful he looks when he gives himself to pleasure entirely, body and soul and everything in between.

These little moments are reserved for Marinette alone, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Welp, there they are,” Alya mumbles.

“Yup. Here they are.”

While Marinette is still watching them, Adrien laughs at something Nino said, a reaction that makes him draw up his shoulders and paints lovely colors over his face. His eyes wander over the hall too, and they eventually meet hers.

A sparkle of something mischievous, something only she can pick up on hides in his expression. He doesn’t let go of her eyes until he and Nino arrive at their table, and Marinette can hardly watch Alya and Nino exchange a quick peck, her eyes being drawn to green irises again and again.

“I hope we aren’t imposing?” Adrien’s smile is warm and pleasant, and Marinette can’t wait to get him all for herself, to strip any last layer of faux politeness from him. Still, for now she will play along, and she flashes him a smile in return.

“Of course not. A bit of a surprise to see you here, though.”

Adrien cocks his head. Lets his bag sink on the chair next to her, “Not an unwelcome one, I hope,” he says, one hand propped on the chair’s backrest.

“Not at all,” she returns, feeling her heart beat just a tad faster in his proximity.

His smile broadens for a second, and then he turns to approach the serving counter together with Nino. Marinette can’t help but look after him. She never allowed herself to acknowledge how goddamn delicious his ass looks in his jeans. Even more so in tight leather. Fuck, she wants to dig her nails into his flesh. Wants him to bury his dick in her mouth. Wants him to moan for her and her alone.

“You need a napkin for all your drool?”

Marinette jumps so wildly her elbow meets the table’s desk. She squeaks. “What?” she grits out through pulsating pain, and Alya raises an eyebrow.

“You were staring at him. And, just as a warning, you weren’t being very subtle about it.”

“I – I was not staring.”

“You never even stared at Luka that way.” Alya’s tone is dry and doesn’t leave any room for doubt. “I hope your talented stranger isn’t the jealous type.”

“I’m – I’m not –” Marinette leans over the table. “I was watching his – his hair. Model hair. Wondering how he does it. Keeping it that model-y.”

“I bet he uses model-y shampoo.”

“Yes! Right.”

“I also bet you are dying to give his ass a good squeeze.”

“Al!” Marinette hisses.

“Which is weird,” Alya squints her eyes, “because your back and forth is seriously confusing. Which one is it now? Do you want to never look at him again, or do you want to lick his sweat off his abs? Because it seems like your opinion of him changes every other day.”

Marinette feels her cheeks turn seething hot, but before she can think of an answer, the other two join them again. She thinks about strictly avoiding Adrien’s eyes, but he sits down next to her, and the way his knee presses against hers seems too purposeful. She bites her lip, playing with her half-eaten pasta.

“Very spontaneous decision, huh?” Alya lilts. “I didn’t expect you two to ever join us here.”

“Welp, you know.” Nino wraps an arm around her shoulder, giving her a grin. “Couldn’t live without my girl for that long.”

“Nice excuse,” drawls Alya, but she still leans into the touch. “Since your uni building is three bus stops away. Which is half an eternity. But I’m still glad you’re here.”

Marinette risks a side glance at Adrien, seeing him chew at his piece of pizza. She thinks about holding back, and she should probably hold back. Especially while Alya is sitting across from them, surely keeping half an eye on Marinette.

But her stomach is full of fluttering tickling feelings that can’t be controlled, full of a desire that pulsates in her veins, and she moves a bit just to be closer. It’s still not enough, it’s never really enough. Slowly, she moves her leg until she can rub her naked lower leg against his, eventually letting her sandal-clad foot slide around his ankle. The skin contact makes her heart tremble and her stomach churn in excitement. From the corners of her eyes, she can see a ghost of a grin twitching over his lips.

“Luckily for us, no lectures until three,” Adrien joins in on the conversation. He leans back, seems to assume a more comfortable pose. No one but her seems to notice that his hand slips under the table’s surface, latching right onto her thigh over the fabric of her skirt. She shudders all over.

“Boring lectures all day, huh? Still the worst,” says Alya.

“You can say that again,” Nino sighs.

Adrien gives her thigh a squeeze. She holds back from closing her eyes and humming in appreciation. Her foot presses against his ankle harder, the warmth of his skin sending a pleasant shower over her spine.

Their conversation becomes something easy and lighthearted. They talk about some of their party’s guests, and about how much work Alya and Nino had the next day while cleaning the apartment. About uni and terrible professors. Marinette tries to concentrate, especially when Adrien removes his hand again, seemingly following the conversation attentively. Even though he started reciprocating her little touches, pressing his knee against hers whenever she pauses for just a moment. Her heart starts beating too fast, and she is almost sure she is blushing when Alya cocks an eyebrow at her.

She clears her throat and looks at anything but her two friends surely able to read any dirty thought right from her eyes. Instead, she tries to follow the conversation. And yet she doesn’t want Adrien to stop. Not really. Not when every touch kindles the fire burning in her stomach anew.

They are in the middle of their conversation, their meals mostly eaten, when Nino suddenly shoots a weird look at Adrien, then turns to Alya. “Babe, you’ve got a minute? Gotta talk to you about something important.”

“Huh? Important?” Alya draws her eyebrows together as she watches Nino stand up. It looks almost hasty, enough so to be unnatural, and Alya seems to think so too, staring at Nino questioningly. “Now? What –”

“Yup. Now. C’mon, babe. You aren’t eating anymore anyway.”

Alya gapes at him. Slowly stands up, tray in her hands. “But –”

“Exactly. Let’s go.” Nino nods at Adrien and Marinette. “Well then, my dudes. Sorry, but y’know, it’s kinda important, so see you later?”

“Um, sure,” Marinette drawls.

Alya sends her one last confused look over her shoulder before she follows Nino, taking her tray with her. Adrien looks after them, and considering the weirdness of it all, it doesn’t take Marinette very long to figure it out. She stares at his profile, studies his features.

“You told him to leave us alone.”

Adrien hums quizzically. Turns his head back to her, propping his cheek on his hand. There’s just a hint of a smile resting on his lips, and the faux innocence accompanying his look almost makes her want to snort in amusement.

“Don’t act all innocent now.” She pushes her own tray away, mimics his pose. Now that Alya and Nino are gone, it doesn’t matter who sees them, not really. So she doesn’t hesitate to slide closer to him, their shoulders almost touching, their faces close. His scent surrounds her, his presence causes a pleasant thrill to run over her back. He doesn’t move away. “You could have just asked me to hang out with you.”

“Hm.” His hand lands on her knee, slides up her thigh. Slips under the hem of her skirt. She watches him, watches the amused sparkle in green eyes. “And you would have said yes?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you would have had to ask nicely.”

His hand wanders higher up, brushes the inside of her thigh. She shivers, and almost sighs, and decidedly pushes his hand back to her knee. Because although she is tempted to just let him do as he pleases, there are still too many people around them.

And sometimes, teasing him is just too much fun.

“He’s a good friend, huh? For doing this for you without asking any questions,” she therefore continues, keeping his hand on her knee. Watching the flash of curiosity in his eyes.

“Nino? He is, yeah.”

“You seem to be very close, after all.” She taps her fingers against her lips. “You always did. Even back in school. Since day one, right?”

“Well, yeah. He was the first friend I made all by myself, after all.”

As if just now realizing what exactly he said, Adrien clears his throat, his hand being retracted from her knee. And Marinette can’t help it. His bashful words are too endearing, and she leans closer when he tries to back away.

“I thought you were friends with Chloé longer than with him.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, looking away from her. “But my father is responsible for that friendship. Not me.”

“Is that why you hang out with someone as obnoxious as Chloé? Because you have no choice?”

At that, Adrien leads his eyes back to her. He crosses his arms. “She has her bad moments, but Chloé isn’t obnoxious.”

“Oh, yeah, sure?” She rolls her eyes. “May I remind you of what she tried to do during our graduation ceremony?”

“I know. But she did become a better person.”

“And yet, she tried to steal the bouquet we got for Ms. Bustier and made it look like she bought it by herself. Because she’s such a good person.”

Adrien’s face darkens. “You know, Miss Perfect, not everyone can be as morally sound as you are.”

Marinette straightens her back. Slides away a bit to properly look him in the eyes. “Really? Are you gonna make excuses for her?”

He snorts. “I bet not even excuses could keep you from being judgy.”

She blinks. Frowns. “I’m not judgy.”

“Oh, of course you aren’t.”

“I’m not – wow, you are defending her so vehemently one could almost think she is more than just some friend, huh?”

Not only Adrien winces at her words. She does, too. She didn’t mean to say that. She didn’t mean for it to sound painful for her, because that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t matter to her. It certainly doesn’t. And yet, a shimmer of understanding passes Adrien’s expression, and he uncrosses his arms, fully turning to her with the slightest hint of a smirk, with that spark of restlessness not having vanished.

“Aw, bugaboo,” he whispers. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

“I –” She slides further away. “I’m not. Of course I’m not.”

“Because the guy you used to have a crush on is so close to a girl like Chloé, and you can’t figure out for the life of you how she did it.” Adrien tilts her head at her, but doesn’t touch her, and Marinette can almost feel his eyes wandering over her body, centimeter by centimeter. “You want me to have eyes for no one else but you, huh?”

Yes, she wants to scream. Yes. Only want me. But the words get lost in her hazy thoughts, and before she can give in to his temptation, she hastily grabs her tray and jumps to her feet. Adrien watches her curiously, but doesn’t hold her back.

“I’m gonna,” she says, and trips over her words, and tries again, “put that away.”

“Sure,” he responds.

She nods. Takes a step back. Feels herself still blush. Then, swiftly, she turns around and heads for the tray rack, trying to pull herself together.

It’s not jealousy. Not really. But he isn’t wrong either, and it’s driving her crazy. Because she can’t help but wonder why a girl like Chloé could be so close to him when Marinette never could. In years and years of being near him every single day, she never could. Maybe Chloé just wasn’t able to see it – the real him. Everything that makes Adrien just himself. Every ugly detail, every emotion hiding behind smug smiles, every tinge of insecurity and every action he must regret by now.

It’s the only thing Marinette still isn’t able to grasp. Not really.

When she returns to the table, Adrien is glancing at his phone, and he doesn’t look up when she takes a seat next to him again. A moment of silence passes, and before he can put his phone away, she speaks up again.

“Okay. I’ll admit it.”

“You’ll admit what?”

Taking a deep breath, she shrugs. “Maybe it’s admirable. Because I know that you sometimes scolded her. Maybe she needed you, and maybe she did become a better person.” Then she huffs. “Not a great person, but at least a better one.”

Adrien finally looks at her, pensiveness written all over his face. “Very impressive. So I’m admirable, huh?”

“That’s not what I said,” she mumbles, having to avert her gaze for a second. “Not at all.”

“But you think I could make someone a better person, huh?” Maybe it should have sounded nonchalant, but there’s something too honest about his tone, and it makes Marinette’s defensiveness almost melt away. She holds his eyes, swallows gently.

“Yeah. I think you could. I think it’s the one thing you don’t want to show me.”

He searches her eyes. He seems vulnerable when he isn’t trying to run away, when he allows himself to lay bare a piece of himself before her. Her mouth dries. She can’t look away.

“I think you make me a better person,” he whispers.

Her heart somersaults. Her whole body tingles. She scoots closer to him, dares touch his cheek softly. He doesn’t move away. He only watches her.

“You are also kind of obnoxious,” she admits. “But still, I like you. I really do.”

He chuckles. “Didn’t you say you hate my guts?”

“That too.”

“Makes sense.”

“Right?”

“Right,” he mumbles, lays his hand above hers. Leans forward and kisses her. Softly, slowly, breaking away too soon again. The taste of his lips lingers, and her eyes flutter open, latching onto the hint of tenderness he grants her. “Makes perfect sense.”

Marinette squeaks when Adrien suddenly makes a turn, opening a door at the far end of the corridor. Nobody really notices them, and he seems to look out for other people as he finally shoves Marinette inside. She doesn’t protest, and she can’t help but giggle.

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

“Surprise,” he purrs. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

He isn’t wrong. And, lo and behold, they ended up in a small room full of cleaning supplies. It’s so cliché Marinette has to laugh, and every sound of amusement fades when Adrien closes the door behind them, shadows surrounding them in an instant. Her eyes aren’t used to the darkness, so she shivers all over when his hand searches for her waist, eventually pulling her closer.

“Really,” she whispers. “The janitor’s closet.”

His grin is practically audible in his voice alone. “Would you have preferred a lonely office, neither of us knowing when someone could come back? Or a huge lecture hall with a lot of windows, making it possible for anyone to take a peek at us?”

She hums, hands finding his arms, travelling up to his shoulders. Fingers brushing, groping, and she relishes the way he exhales harshly. “No,” she mumbles. “I think I want to be the only one seeing you like this.”

She didn’t expect his sudden eagerness. But the way he pushes her against one of the shelves isn’t unwelcomed. Her bag lands on the floor with a thud, and her back hurts from the impact for a second, and above them, items clatter around; but still, there’s nothing better than his greedy lips seeking hers. He groans when he can finally kiss her, his hands dipping underneath her skirt and giving her ass a rough squeeze. She whimpers into his mouth.

“And you really think I did this to Chloé?” His fingers wedge themselves beneath the elastics of her panties, massaging her flesh until she is trembling from his touches. “Oh, Ladybug. You have no idea how many times I wanted to push you down and have my way with you. Not Chloé, not anyone else. Only you.”

She is panting for air, feeling lightheaded and weak. “Stop talking about Chloé.”

“But I like seeing you jealous. It’s cute.”

She huffs in annoyance, but before she can utter an answer, his lips are on hers again. The shelf behind her is wobbling with their movements, but she doesn’t mind. Instead, her hands search for purchase, finding it on one of the wooden planks. Everything inside her catches fire as his hands wander over her ass, slip down to her thighs. His lips press against the corner of her mouth, and when she tries to capture them again, he draws a trail over her jaw, down to her neck.

“I keep wondering, you know,” he mumbles. “What exactly you are thinking about every time you get yourself off to the thought of me.”

She shivers. Cranes her neck to give him better access, every wet kiss shooting through her veins in electrifying waves. One of his hands softly brushes her hip bone, the other one stroking her inner thigh until she is trembling like a leaf.

“Did you think about this? Being at my mercy like this? Whimpering to be touched by me?”

Her eyes closed, her head leaned back, she can hardly respond. Her tongue feels too heavy. Sluggish arousal moves through her veins, curls in her stomach, but he doesn’t go further. Doesn’t grant her the touches she really needs.

So she caves in.

“I did,” she breathes, fingers cramping around the shelf, back arching towards him. “Yes, I did, Adrien, please …”

He chuckles against her skin, lets his lips wander up again. “Can’t be too loud, little bug. Don’t want people to walk in on us, now do you?”

She groans in frustration. Especially when one of his hands slips out of her skirt again. Instead, his knuckles softly graze her throat. She has no idea what exactly he is doing, and it only becomes clear to her when his fingers wrap around her throat, giving it a soft squeeze. A pulsating feeling throbs in her stomach, a breath tumbling down to her lungs. The pressure is just enough to make her shiver.

“I’d rather you scream my name until your voice was hoarse too, believe me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her lips which she can hardly reciprocate without going crazy. “And you will. But for now, we gotta live with this, hm?”

She can’t answer anymore. It’s not harder to breathe, but it’s certainly more uncomfortable. His fingers around her throat are a presence she can’t get used to, reminding her second after second whose mercy she is at. Every tiniest hum vibrates against his palm. He moves to her ear, and she feels his hot, moist breath against her sensible skin.

“If it’s too much, then kick me in the leg, will you?”

Her laugh almost gets stuck underneath his hand. “How generous.”

“Mm-hmm. And yet, you didn’t tell me to stop right now.”

He squeezes just a bit harder. Her lips automatically open, greedily sucking in air which she can’t inhale through her nose. It doesn’t hurt, and he would need to use far more strength to really make her struggle for air, and she realizes that something about this is so arousing her head is spinning. She is his, entirely his, her weakest point laid bare, every heartbeat echoing in her throat and pulsating against his palm. His other hand is still on her thigh, drawing gentle patterns over her skin.

“Could it be,” he murmurs, lips feathering over her earlobe, “that you actually enjoy the feeling of my fingers around your throat?”

She groans. Presses her thighs together, catching his hand between them. Trying to get him further up, trying to get him to touch her like she needs him to.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Fuck, Adrien. Yes, I love it.”

“You love it,” he repeats, his grip tightening even more. Her breaths rattle through her throat in heavy sounds. She can’t concentrate on anything, her whole body tensing at the feeling. Alerting her, and at the same time having no choice but to surrender to him. His voice is low and dark and laced with a kind of fascination that sets everything inside her on fire. “Shit, you do, huh? I can’t get enough of you either, Marinette. I really can’t.”

Her whimper becomes a strangled sound when his fingers finally, finally rub her clit through her underwear. Her hands almost slip from the shelf, but she holds on, parting her legs and moving against his touches. She curses out loud as his fingers go back to teasing her inner thigh, tracing the place where her hips and leg connect.

“You want this so bad, huh?” he mumbles. “You want me to give you what you need?”

She can’t nod, so she utters a hasty, “Please, just fuck me already.”

“Fuck you, hm? I will. No one else but me.” His thumb caresses her jaw before he squeezes again, so hard that her breaths become shallower, that a veil of light dizziness takes hold of her. “No one could give you what I give you. But you know that already, don’t you?”

Her only answer is a strained noise, and fuck, she can’t do this anymore, she can’t. Her head is spinning with the slight lack of oxygen, her body can focus on nothing than her hard breaths trying to pass her constricted throat, and –

She feels his fingers moving the garment of her underwear to the side, feels his lips on hers, kissing her tenderly and softly as he plunges a digit into her without hesitating for a second. She trembles, mewls, feels his finger move deeper, deeper, a squelching sound being left behind when he pulls it out again.

“Love how you clench around me,” he breathes, spreading kisses over her cheek. “How you wanna suck me in. You’re so greedy. Fuck, I could do this forever. Just tease you and make you desperate for me.”

She wants to disagree, wants to bid him to fuck her, just fuck her until she is exhausted and sweaty and entirely satisfied. But then he adds a second finger, going so deep her knees almost buckle. He curls his digits inside her, stroking and searching while pumping in and out of her slowly, and she already can’t hold on to anything, her clipped moans catching in her throat and becoming tiny pleading sounds. She leans her weight against the shelf as she widens her legs for him, giving in to his movements, hips surrendering to his rhythm.

“But seeing you fuck yourself like this on my fingers,” he tells her, “is a gorgeous sight, too.”

She whines, the grip around her throat still an ever-lasting presence. Her body moving on its own, seeking and needing and needing him so much, so fucking much she wants to cry. When she glances at him, he is shred in darkness, but his look burns like fire. Watching her face as she feels his fingers thrust in and out, in and out, in – She feels lightheaded, she can’t breathe properly anymore, hitching and floundering pants escaping her and catching in her constricted throat, his angelic face turned into the most sinful temptation she has ever seen.

Being held in place like this by him – it feels right in a way she can’t describe. Shoving any thought aside, concentrating on nothing else but his touches. Maybe it shouldn’t feel like this. Maybe she shouldn’t crave his touches that much. Chat Noir, her sworn enemy; the asshole who managed to put her down time and time again. But she somehow can’t bring herself to protest while his fingers are making her core pulsate that deliciously, when he squeezes her throat until she wheezes out a moan, when her arms start shaking so miserably she thinks she will just collapse to the floor. Adrien pushes her back harder, giving her some stability as his fingers rub places inside her that make her eyes roll in bliss. She can’t – she fucking can’t –

She comes so hard her body spasms, her breaths no more than choked sounds, the feeling lasting and lasting until it becomes almost too much, until every thought becomes a jumbled mess. Her blood sings in her ears, and his fingers don’t stop, push in and out and in and fuck - oh god - every last bit of sanity slips away from her as her orgasm doesn’t come to an end, consuming her in wave after wave, and how the fuck can she come that good from only his fingers, only him finding spots that have her lose her mind, just how –

His hand disappears from her throat. Unwittingly, she sucks in enough air to make her lungs hurt, dizziness disorienting her until Adrien’s lips crash against hers. His fingers, still inside her, are gently rubbing just the right spots, keeping her on a wave of ecstasy as his other hand grabs the back of her head, roughly leading her into another angle. His tongue pushes against hers, forces itself into her mouth until all she can taste is him, until everything else loses meaning for good.

His gentle caresses combined with his desperate kiss are too much, too overwhelming, and she feels another high creeping up on her, shattering her and pulling her down, making her shake so wildly she can hardly breathe anymore. She cries into his mouth, paws at his arms and moves against his fingers, falling and falling, his arm sliding down to her waist, the only thing that keeps her on her feet anymore.

Their lips part. She chases after them until she can kiss him again, again, hips rolling against his fingers until he releases a shuddering breath.

“Can’t get enough either, can you?” he mumbles. “Want me so much you’re going crazy, huh?”

She wants to say something coherent, but all that escapes her is a pleading, “Yes, fuck, yes –”

“Me too. God, me too,” he breathes.

She is pretty sure she wouldn’t have minded being fucked like this forever, and she whines in protest when he removes his fingers. Through her hazy thoughts, she watches as he leads his fingers to his mouth, slowly pushing them past his lips. His eyes on hers, demanding and captivating. He makes a sound as the taste seems to hit his tongue, and in return, her nails bite into his arms. A pinch of pain throbs in her throat, and the memory of his fingers wrapped around it makes something inside her light up anew.

His fingers leave his mouth with a plopping sound. She leans forward, wanting to kiss her own taste from his lips, but before she can, a hand on her chin pushes her back again. She whimpers, tries to escape, tries not to tell him that she needs fucking more when he pecks her lips.

“I want to do this properly, Marinette,” he tells her. “I want you in my bed, lights on so I can see how gorgeous you look when I’m inside you. I want you in every way. Writhing underneath me, fucking yourself on top of me, on all fours while I take you from behind. I want you to scream my name until your throat hurts.” He pecks her lips again. “And we can’t do that here, now can we?”

Her tongue feels heavy, her body weak. “No, we can’t,” she brings out, withstanding his heated look.

His thumb wanders over her chin, up to her lower lip, softly pressing against it. “You’re so cute when you’re a shaking mess for me. So agreeable and needy.”

It’s not like she can disagree. He’s doing things to her she can’t even put into words. Messing with her head, making her pant after his touches. It shouldn’t happen, but somehow she stopped caring. Somehow, giving herself to him doesn’t seem to be such a bad decision. Not anymore.

“You know,” she whispers, moving her hips against his, listening to his sharp inhale when she brushes his erection, “we could go to your place right now.”

“We could,” he agrees, both his hands coming to rest on her hips and pushing her back the slightest bit. “Or I tease you some more. Let you wait until all you can think about is me finally fucking you. What would you prefer, my lady?”

She gives a protesting sound. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you love it,” he purrs. His touches are soft and lingering as he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t you?”

He never asked before. It could have been just another tiny remark. Nothing too substantial. And yet, she exhales softly, lets her hands wander higher until she can wrap her arms around his neck. Leans forward and finally kisses him. Deeply, longingly, brushing her fingers through his hair and sighing when he embraces her in return, pulling her closer.

She could let him fuck her forever, she thinks, and it’s almost absurd that kissing him like this, free of any urgency, fills her with a deep growing feeling just as much.

Chapter Text

“Look. If you keep distracting me, I’m going to kick you out.”

Adrien chuckles, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and leaning into her. His warmth swashes over her body, enwraps her, and she can’t help but giggle when he brushes his nose over her jaw. Still, she slaps his arm and attempts to glower at him.

“I mean it, Adrien. I’ve got work to do.”

“Well,” he drawls. “Then don’t let yourself be distracted, bugaboo.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re really sexy when you’re mad.”

She huffs out a breath. Attempts to concentrate on her cupcake toppings. Squeezing it out, forming it into pretty swirls of sugary goodness. She heeds Adrien’s words, ignoring the way he absentmindedly brushes his fingers over her hip bones as he watches her. It doesn’t make her nervous, not really. Still, when she is finished with the toppings and puts the icing bag away, she pauses for a second.

“I need to move.”

Adrien nods against her shoulder, arms still wrapped around her. “Then move.”

“You’re kinda holding me in place.”

“Oh, underestimating me, aren’t you? No worries, I can move with you.”

She exhales deeply. Steps to the side. He shuffles along, not letting go of her. She tries to take a larger step, but is being held back by him, and they end up stumbling for a second until he can catch her again, and it’s so stupid that she genuinely has to laugh.

“You’re so silly,” she says. “Come on, just let me go for a second.”

“Mm. Don’t wanna.”

“Chat, come on. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe I like being ridiculous.”

“Yeah, I guessed so already,” she returns drily. “What are you? An overly attached cat?”

“Maybe,” he says again, kissing her cheek. “You smell so good.”

She shudders, and then sighs. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna kick you out.”

“Wow, my lady. I’m giving you a compliment, and that’s how you react?”

“You came into my parents’ bakery and started distracting me for no reason at all. I think I’m entitled to throw you out.”

“I politely disagree.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

“Again, I politely disagree.”

Marinette finally fights her way out of his arms. The shimmer of mischief in his eyes makes her weak like it always does, and yet she points at the door, giving him the sternest look she can muster. “Out. Now.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet.”

“And you won’t keep touching me. I need to concentrate.”

“Right, of course.” With that, he moves to one of the chairs close to the door, slumping down on it. Tilting his head lazily, half a smile sticking to his lips. “Please continue, then.”

She almost wants to snort, but she refrains from doing so. Instead, she turns her back to him and keeps working. Decorating the cupcakes with tiny garments made of chocolate. She is sure he is watching her, and when she glances over her shoulder, she sees him staring at her ass.

Well, of course.

“What are you looking at, kitty?” Marinette turns back to her work, not letting any amusement slip into her voice. “Something you like in particular?”

“No worries. I like all of you. Plenty for me to stare at.”

“Yeah, good save,” she drawls.

He chuckles, but he doesn’t respond, and she resumes her work.

It takes some time to forget about his presence, but when she does, she begins to focus completely on her work. It’s hot in the backroom. It always is, of course, and she pushes a strand of hair from her face as she places one little piece of chocolate after the other on the frosting. It looks cute, she has to admit, and she can’t stop herself from smiling proudly at her work when she is done. With a satisfied exhale, she puts her hands on her hips and regards her masterpieces.

“Done?” Adrien asks behind her.

She flinches. Remembers that she was being watched the whole time. When she turns around, his eyes latch onto hers, his fingers hiding the grin on his lips. She raises an eyebrow.

“Mostly, yeah,” she says.

“Good.” He tilts his head downwards. “Come here, my princess.”

Something about his tone makes her blush in an instant, and she raises her eyebrow even further. “You know that my parents could come in anytime, right?”

“My, what dirty things are you thinking about again?” He stands up in one smooth motion. Stalks closer. She doesn’t back away when he softly grabs her hips, pulling her towards his body. Pressing a kiss to her cheek she can’t escape from. “I wanna take you to my place. Cook something nice for you.” A kiss to her jaw, and she can’t help but reach for his elbows, wrapping her fingers around them to find some grounding. “Bend you over the kitchen counter and finally fuck you like you deserve.”

A breath gets stuck in her throat. “So much for only teasing me, huh?” It only escapes her in a shivering whisper.

“Watching your perfect ass while you were concentrating on your work awoke some mental images, you see.” As if to prove his point, his hands wander to her backside, giving her butt a rough squeeze that dances on the verge of too painful. She inhales sharply, her body pressing itself against him on instinct. “Don’t tell me you didn’t do it on purpose, my lady.”

“Do what on purpose?” she asks innocently, enjoying the feeling of his lips wandering over her skin. From her jaw to her cheek to her –

A sudden smacking sound. She squeaks unwittingly, a hint of pain shooting through her as she realizes what he just did. The hand that slapped her ass starts massaging it gently, soothing out the pain again, and a sound slips from her lips, too late to be held back.

“Oh, huh,” she hears him say. “I think you like that, don’t you?”

“Like –”

The next slap is just a tad fiercer, the smack echoing through the room. Her legs start shaking at the sudden pain, and she bites her lip to not give a loud sound. While his hand massages her ass cheek again, he captures her lips in a kiss, making her sigh into his mouth.

“Say yes, Marinette,” he mumbles, his forehead leaning against hers. “Let me spoil you. Let me treat you the way you deserve. Please.”

She swallows gently. Lets her hands wander up to his shoulders, down again, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin underneath hers. “Let me grab a change of clothes,” she whispers. “Meet me in front of the bakery in ten.”

He kisses the corner of her mouth, wraps his arms around her, doesn’t seem to want to let her go as he presses his lips against hers. When she carefully tries to remove his arms, he only holds on harder, kissing her with even more devotion. She grins under his lips, cups his cheeks to get him away. When their eyes meet, his green irises seem to burn with passion.

“You’ll have to let me go for ten minutes, kitty,” she says.

“I’ll give you five.”

“Seriously?”

“Three.”

She rolls her eyes and giggles, finally freeing herself from his embrace. “See you in ten, Adrien,” she says as she leaves the room.

Marinette is finally giving up.

She doesn’t even try to explain to her parents just why exactly Adrien’s eyes light up when she joins him at the counter, and she doesn’t convince her parents that it isn’t what it looks like when they send her understanding looks. She gives up fighting against it when Adrien wraps an arm around her waist outside of the bakery, pulling her close. She doesn’t move away from the occasional kiss he presses to her temple, and she doesn’t attempt to convince herself that she feels nothing for him, absolutely nothing.

All in all, it’s no use anymore.

He talks about some of his lectures, some of the parties he went to with Nino. Teases her about the fact that she enjoys the taste of rosé (“Mon dieu, my lady. That’s not even real wine!”), and joins her when she whines about Alya’s sharp-mindedness and her tendency to just smell any kind of gossip before it even properly arises. Marinette knew Adrien during their school days, talked to him, hung out with him every now and then – but he was never that silly, that carefree and uninhibited with her. The more she gets to know about his true self, the deeper she feels herself falling into an abyss that she won’t be able to escape from that easily again.

It’s scary, and yet she can’t help herself.

They’re not even close to his apartment, taking detour after detour through parks and alleys until they land on an avenue, tree crowns swaying softly in a light summer breeze. Somewhere along the line, she wrapped her arm around his waist too, inhaling his scent and leaning into his warmth. His voice is a soothing presence, almost making her close her eyes.

“You know what I’ve always wondered?” she says, enjoying the evening sun’s heat on her face.

“Wish I could be a mind reader, but you’ll have to tell me.”

She grins at his silliness, flicking his side. “Why you and your ex broke up. It never made sense to me, and Nino never said a word either.”

Adrien stays silent for a moment. She regrets her question instantly. Maybe the line has shifted, but there’s still something delicate to it all. Something that should better stay untouched. But then, he eventually answers, his voice quiet as they keep walking.

“Kagami is great. She truly is. But I couldn’t do it to her.”

Marinette feels like she should move away. Instead, she digs her fingers into his side, holding on harder. “Couldn’t do what?”

“Deceive her like that.”

“By … By being Chat Noir?”

He doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know what to say anymore. She shifts. Feels a bit cold, even though the summer heat is pressing down on them. It could be easy, it could be –

Her phone gives a familiar sound.

Marinette immediately lets go of him, instead pulling out her phone. She stares at the display. Looks up at him. For a long moment, he seems confused, and icy coldness tumbles through her.

“I have to go,” she croaks.

He raises an eyebrow. “Your secret boyfriend called for you?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it again. Something ugly takes hold of her heart, and she takes a generous step back. “I think you’ll notice soon enough,” she says, trying to keep her voice neutral. Trying not to show how much she is going to dislike what is sure to follow.

She feels kind of stupid.

She is kind of stupid.

He watches her. Slowly, ever so slowly, understanding dawns on his face. It’s quickly replaced by a veil of nonchalance, something she now recognizes as entirely unnatural. There’s nothing left of his easy-going silliness, of his little jabs and tiny jokes.

But frankly, she has no time to feel sorry for herself.

She takes another step back. Watches him carefully. He doesn’t move. Only eyes her in return, tucking his hands into his pockets. If he was in his suit right now, his tail would hastily flicker over the ground, left and right and left again.

“I will … I …” She gulps. Turns around. Hears his words fall over her, suffocating her in a feeling she has no idea how to deal with.

“See you in a jiffy, little bug.”

Her akuma alert led her directly to the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug watches the akumatized villain from one of the rooftops. It seems like he is capturing people underneath transparent cubes. No apparent way of escaping them. She squints, searching for the item the akuma is resting in. Nothing stands out too much. With his colorful clothes, the villain seems like a fashion accident, honestly.

Ladybug scrunches up her nose. Aims her yo-yo. Doesn’t think about who is sure to join them sooner or later.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Before the villain can capture another innocent person underneath a transparent cube, the strings of her weapon wrap around his wrist and yank harshly. The villain makes a sound, the cube that was materializing in the air being flung around and evaporating as it meets a wall. With an outraged cry, the villain frees himself, whirling around to Ladybug.

“Ah, yes, the superhero herself!” he sneers. “You would make for a fine piece of art, dear Ladybug.”

She puts a hand on her hip. “Yeah, okay. I refuse.”

“Pity. Not like I’ll give you a choice.” His face a grimace, the villain points a finger at her. “For I, Artisto, will show you the greatest piece of art the world has ever seen – all these people who dared taunt me, captivated forever!”

Hurt pride. Her favorite. “Yeah?” she drawls. “Then maybe you –”

She is interrupted by a sudden instinct leading her to duck, and the metallic baton swings over her head, barely missing her. For a moment, she is flabbergasted. She expected him to watch from the sidelines, to not lift a finger, to stay silent and unmoving – and there he is, face drenched in something akin to coldness. Chat Noir swings his baton over his shoulders, hands draped over his weapon as he nods at her.

“I agree,” he purrs. “You would make for a fine piece of art, my lady.”

She stares at him. Tries to find words. Feels them slip away again. When Chat takes a step towards her, she automatically backs away.

“Two versus one, huh?” she tries to quip. “I see how it is.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Chat drawls. “A cat in gloves catches no cute little bugs.”

“That’s not how the saying goes, actually.”

Chat grins at her, and then he attacks again.

She succumbs to his rhythm. It’s not like she has much of a choice. At least this feels familiar. At least it doesn’t hurt too much. He isn’t going all out, isn’t set on ending all of this. Forgiving her for one or two sluggish movements, and never meeting her eyes.

But even though he isn’t going at it with full force, she let herself forget about her other enemy for a second too long.

“Well, Ladybug,” Artisto calls out. “Prepare to be preserved forever!”

She whirls her head around to him. Feels the force of the baton hitting her before she can register what is happening. The impact makes her wheeze as she is flung to the side. She catches herself before she can crash right into a wall, trying to ignore her aching side, and when she turns back to Chat Noir, something obscures her view for a moment.

A thud. Then she is surrounded by transparent walls caging her in.

Shit.

She hisses out a curse under her breath. Puts both hands against the cube’s wall and gives it a hard push. It doesn’t budge. The corners seem to be attached to the ground, and when she kicks against one of them, nothing happens either. Her thoughts are starting to race, and through the cube’s transparent walls, she can see Artisto coming closer to her, a sneer on his lips.

“My, now that was disappointingly easy.” He shrugs. “Well, not as if you could go anywhere now. Which means your Miraculous can wait. I’ve still got to pick a bone with a particularly obnoxious art director, you see.”

Ladybug glowers. The shimmer of violet surrounding the villain’s face is enough of an indicator, and she hardly listens to the ensuing discussion between Artisto and the apparent voice he is hearing. It’s not a bad development, though. Gives her enough time to figure out a solution, any solution at all.

She watches as Artisto, still arguing with no one, jumps away. She looks after him for a second, puts a hand on her chin and gnaws at her thumb, tries to think.

Green eyes are watching her.

Chat Noir is bending over his baton close to her, arms crossed above it, mouth hidden by his pose. A breath gets stuck in her throat. She stares back at him, frowns, presses her lips to a thin line. Steps towards him until she is held up by the cube’s wall.

“Chat,” she whispers.

His cat ears twitch, but he doesn’t move otherwise.

“Chat. You could cataclysm this thing.”

His eyebrows rise.

“You could help me,” she tells him. Hopes to god the wild beating of her heart doesn’t show. “Before the villain takes my Miraculous. You could help me. We could defeat him together.”

He stays where he is, not moving a millimeter.

“We could be a team. You and me.” She presses her palms against the cube’s wall. “Come on, Chat. Kitty. You know we’d make a great team. You know it. We could stop Hawk Moth together. We could –”

“That’s really cute, my lady,” he purrs. Straightens his back. There’s no smile on his lips. Behind the façade of lazy nonchalance, there must be something more bubbling just underneath the surface. But she can’t fully grasp it, and it only leaves her in coldness. “But who said I wanted to be on your side?”

Her mouth dries. The sting in her eyes is easily ignorable as long as she can replace it with anger. “Chat,” she tries again. “Come on – after everything, you still …”

“After everything,” he drawls, “I’m still your enemy, aren’t I?”

She shuts up. She glares at him. She curses loudly and pounds her fist against the wall. Doesn’t let him see the hurt in her eyes, and instead, she quickly turns away from him. Breathes in, breathes out, and shoves the pain away for later.

For now, there are more important things to focus on.

She’ll have no choice. She summons her Lucky Charm, being presented with a flashlight. She stares at it in confusion. Weights in her hands, curses once more, pacing in her two square meters. When she lifts her head slightly, Chat is still watching her, and she can’t hold herself back anymore.

“So, what?” she snaps. “You’re not gonna take my Miraculous from me? What are you, my enemy or not?”

One arm propped on his baton, legs crossed, he flings his leathery tail up and down. “I would, my lady. But I can’t really get past that cube. And neither can Artisto, y’know.”

“Oh, wow, that’s so sad,” she drawls. “Aw, will you have to cataclysm the cube anyway? Poor you. I almost feel sorry for you.”

He doesn’t respond, still flinging his tail up and down, up and down.

“And you know what? Fuck you, Chat.” She kicks against the cube wildly, and of course, it doesn’t move a centimeter. “Fuck you for making me think for one second that you could be more than an ugly, obnoxious person. Fuck you for making me see something in you. Because when it matters most, you’re a good loyal kitty to your goddamn Hawk Daddy, aren’t you?”

His eyes darken. Her words are just as ugly as she feels, but it helps her to ignore the tears threatening to arise.

“Like I said,” he says lowly. “Not even Artisto could reach you without removing that cube first.”

“Yeah, so? What –”

She pauses. Keeps staring at him. Chat’s eyes bore into hers. She frowns, glances at her flashlight. Back up at Chat.

She taps her forefinger against her lips before she puts the flashlight on her feet, keeping it balanced by moving up her toes.

She crosses her arms. Doesn’t look at him anymore. But she knows she is being watched, and she sets her jaw before giving him a side glance. Of course, green eyes are still locked on her. Of course, there is just a hint of dark amusement hiding anything else he could possibly show her.

“It could be easy, you know,” she mumbles. “It could be so easy. But you’re the one complicating things every single time.”

He smiles lazily. “Am I now?”

“Yes. And you know it too.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m just an ugly, obnoxious person, it seems.”

She closes her eyes for a second. “Chat. That wasn’t –”

“Oh, I heard you. Loud and clear.”

“I didn’t –”

Their conversation is cut short when Artisto reappears. He saunters over to her cube, regarding it from all sides, a satisfied grin on his lips. Chat is still watching her. She can’t bring herself to think about what she told him, about the anger still searing inside her, so instead, she focuses on the villain closing in on her.

“Well, well, Ladybug,” he singsongs. “Seems like the only thing left to do is take your Miraculous.”

She glowers at him. “As if I would make it that easy for you.”

“You’ll have to, Ladybug. Hands above your head, or I’ll keep you in this cage until you starve  yourself. Well, easier to snatch the earrings away then, isn’t it?”

She keeps glowering. Slowly lifts up her hands.

“And you better keep them there,” the villain says, chin held high, looking at her with a kind of condescension that makes her blood boil. “Or you’ll land in another cube and stay a pretty piece of art forever.”

Ladybug stays quiet. Safer this way. She watches as Artisto moves to the cube, splaying his hand over the wall. For a second, her eyes slide to Chat Noir. He is still leaning against his baton, and he plays with the bell sitting on his neck, flicking it lightly. A gesture that is entirely unfamiliar. She can’t help but stare at him in confusion, and then Chat lightly nods in the villain’s direction.

His neck.

Artisto’s scarf.

Of course.

She waits as the cube slowly disappears. She waits as Artisto grins at her, reaching forward. She waits and waits, her body tensing, and then –

Using all her strength, she kicks one of her feet up. The flashlight is flung upwards, turning in the air right before her face, and she snatches it as quickly as she can. Turns it on and points it directly at Artisto’s face. The sudden light makes him gasp and stumble back, and she doesn’t hesitate before she jumps forward, tearing the scarf from his neck. Artisto screams, but it’s too late; the akuma already flaps towards the sky, and Ladybug catches it with her yo-yo, one hand on her hip as she watches the villain turn back into a civilian.

“Too bad,” Chat sighs, close to her. When she lifts her head to look at him, he is already backing away. “Could have stared at you forever anyway, you know.”

She swallows gently. Doesn’t know what to say. But she doesn’t have to decide, because with a wink, Chat Noir moves away, extending his baton to land on one of the rooftops. A shadow in broad daylight. Her chest constricts.

“Ladybug?” the civilian mumbles in front of her, having sunk to his knees. “What happened?”

She bites back all her emotions, and she focuses on what is really important right now.

[Marinette]: I want to talk.

[Marinette]: Are you at home?

[Marinette]: Come on, Adrien. You know we need to talk.

[Adrien]: I’m home

[Marinette]: So …… Can I come over?

No reply.

“Tikki,” she whispers, as she stares at her phone. “What am I doing? Seriously, what am I doing?”

For a moment, Tikki stays silent. Then she lands on Marinette’s shoulder, rubbing her tiny head against Marinette’s cheeks. “You’re trying to see the good in him, and you’re trying to pull him to the side he belongs to. Right?”

He could hurt her so much. What if one day, he will be the one responsible for stealing her Miraculous? What if one day, he’ll decide that obeying Hawk Moth is so much more important than her? What if in the end, she will always be his second choice?

It would devastate her. It would destroy her. It’s a glaring weakness, one she can’t afford.

She leaves her apartment and takes the nearest bus to his apartment. He still isn’t replying. She stares at their conversations on her phone. Closes her eyes for a moment. Tries not to think too hard about it, tries not to think about the doubts swirling through her mind.

It takes her half an hour after she has left her apartment until she is ringing his doorbell. The sound of his voice from the intercom makes her wince.

“Yeah?”

He sounds tired. Incredibly tired. She can understand why. Clasping her hands, she stares at the intercom. “Hi. It’s me.”

A second of silence. Then he hangs up.

For a moment, she thinks he just walked away and left her standing like an idiot. But then, the entrance door gives a loud buzzing sound, and she is let in.

Her body is shaking as she climbs the stairs. Her mind is racing when he sees his door slightly ajar. She slips in. Closes the door as softly as she can, takes off her shoes, and pads into the living room. From her position, she can see Adrien sitting on the couch, staring at the wall in front of him. The TV is off. It’s eerily quiet. She doesn’t manage to utter anything, and instead, she moves to the couch. Memories of their first night together make a blush spread over her cheeks. Carefully, she sits down, some distance between them. Watches the glass placed on his thigh, the way his fingertips slide over the glass’s rim as he holds it in place.

“Whiskey?” she asks.

He doesn’t look at her. He seems pensive and tired. “Yeah. Want some?”

“No. Thank you.”

He smiles faintly. Nods. She somehow wants to wrap her arms around him and never let him go. She somehow wants to scream at him and pound against his chest. She wants him, all of him, and the realization that there might always be a piece of him that can’t be hers leaves her in a feeling of emptiness.

He takes a sip. She watches him swallow, watches his slender neck, watches his lips curl into a tight smile.

“Hawk Moth talked to me.”

She keeps staring at him. “Did he?”

“Yeah. He asked me something.”

She can only nod, tension gripping her heart.

“He asked what is going on between you and me.”

Frowning, she pulls her bent knees closer to her body. “Between us? Between …”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” The loud sound of his glass meeting the sofa table’s surface makes her flinch. Adrien rakes a hand through his hair, leaning back his head. “There’s something he told me. Something he reminded me of.”

She doesn’t dare speak.

“He said he knows exactly what is going on. You’re wrapping me around your finger. You’re making me think joining your side would be the only right thing to do. You’re using me. And in the end, you will dismiss why I’m doing all of this anyway.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she whispers. “I’m not using you.”

“Aren’t you?” He laughs humorlessly. “You won’t let me make the wish.”

“Adrien. I don’t even know what exactly –”

“I want to save my mother.”

The words tumble out into the open, echo in silence, wither and die. Marinette feels frozen in place. She moves her lips, tries to find words. Silence surrounds them, presses down on them, takes all air from her lungs until she feels like she is panting, chest heaving helplessly.

“I want to save her,” he goes on, still staring at the wall, eyes hardened. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Is she …” Her throat hurts. “Is she dead?”

“No. She has been in a coma for seven years, and I don’t think she will ever wake up on her own.”

Marinette’s hand twitches to touch him. She doesn’t move. “Adrien, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“So? What do you say?” Slowly, he turns his head to look at her. There’s something too guarded to his expression, something that makes her shudder again and again. “Will you let me make the wish?”

She presses the tips of her fingers against her own hand. Presses and presses until it hurts too much. Desperation wraps itself around her throat. “Adrien, listen,” she whispers carefully, and like she feared, he snorts and looks away from her again.

“So, no. No, you won’t.”

“No. No, listen. That’s just …” She shakes her head. “You’re saying Hawk Moth is going to make that wish? Just for you? He is the one using you.” Her nails bite into the back of her own hand. “He is the one promising things he won’t keep. Why would he do it? Why would he want to save your mother? He won’t. You can’t trust him.”

Adrien’s smile is small and bitter. “He will.”

“He – how would you know? You really think he will keep his promise?”

“Yeah. He will.”

“So you trust him? You trust him that much, but you can’t trust me?”

Her words are no more than little torn pieces fluttering through the air, falling and falling. She swallows down tears. Swallows down everything. Adrien still isn’t looking at her. He seems small and weak, seems entirely unreachable.

“And even if he keeps his promise,” she goes on, her voice almost cracking. “Even if he does, he never told you, did he? He never told you that there’s always a price to pay. That balance has to be kept. You know what happens if Hawk Moth’s wish wakes up your mother?”

“I will sacrifice myself for her,” he returns without hesitation.

She feels her heart clench. She feels hot-white desperation pulsate through her heart. “Even if you want to,” she brings out through a constricting throat. “Even if you are set on sacrificing yourself, the universe doesn’t care. You could beg it to choose you, but you can’t know who it will pick.” She leans closer, but the distance is too vast to be bridged. “What if instead of you, it will pick a little kid? Or a mother of three? Or a loving father? What if you’re sacrificing an innocent life? What if you’re tearing apart a happy family? What if –”

“Stop.”

A harsh word. She falls silent. She backs away again. Adrien covers his face with his hands, releasing a breath. She watches him. She feels her fingertips prickle. She doesn’t know what to do.

“Just stop,” he whispers. “Just stop trying to get into my goddamn head.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Adrien,” she whispers. “The truth Hawk Moth won’t tell you. So he can keep using you. So he can –”

“You have no idea. You have no idea what she means to me.”

“I have a mother too. I have every idea.”

“Marinette,” he breathes. “How am I supposed to pick? How am I supposed to pick between my mother and you? I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t …”

Tears well up in her eyes anew. Her heart breaks, and breaks, and she can’t hold back any longer. She stands up, and she comes closer to him. His elbows are propped on his knees, and she carefully reaches for his hands. Pulling softly, pulling until he gives in, until she can wrap his arms around her. She straddles his lap, a hand on the back of his head leading him to the crook of her neck. He lets her. His breathing is uneven, and his heart is beating too fast, and she presses a soothing kiss to his hair, trying not to fall apart as well.

She doesn’t have a solution either. She can’t give him that wish. She can’t bring back his mother. She can’t bring him any kind of salvation. She can’t do anything but give him all the affection she feels, and a voice in the back of her mind whispers to her that it won’t be enough.

She tries not to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” she therefore mumbles into his hair, clenching her eyes shut. Starting to rock him gently, her fingers brushing through golden strands. “I’m so sorry, Adrien.”

He doesn’t answer. His fingers dig into her ribs, hold on to her so hard she can’t properly breathe anymore. His shoulders are shaking, and she is shaking with him. Trying to find a solution, anything at all. Anything. Anything.

Would she have done the same? She’d like to say no. She’d like to say she would have done the right thing. But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.

She presses her cheek against his hair. Bites her lip so hard it’s getting painful.

“I wish I could have been there for you,” she tells him quietly. “Before Hawk Moth could ever reach you. I wish I could have gone through the pain with you.”

He doesn’t answer. His quick breaths burn on her shoulder.

“I can’t make it all right, Adrien. I’m so sorry, but I can’t. And Hawk Moth can’t either.”

He whispers something. Again. Her heart is beating too hard. She carefully cups his cheeks, pushes him back a bit until she can look into his eyes. Glazed, reddened, a sight she never thought she’d see on her enemy of all people. Her enemy.

But the line is too blurry by now, and she softly strokes his skin, and he repeats his low whisper yet again.

“Leave.”

She freezes. Her hands fall from his face. “What?” she mumbles, searching his eyes, trying to figure out in which way she misheard him.

“Leave, Marinette,” he tells her again.

She stares. His arms are still around her. “Leave?” she repeats, her voice high-pitched and confused.

He keeps looking at her. Something so fragile, so pleading about him. Asking her to make the choice for him. She wants to stay. Wants to sink into his arms and take all the pain from him. Wants to promise him the sweetest things.

He can’t pick, he said. But he will have to. He will have to, or else he will forever be no more than a ploy in a game he never agreed to.

She understands the sentiment, at least.

Slowly, she gets to her feet. He doesn’t follow her. But their eyes are still locked, and she feels her lower lip tremble, and she sees his expression harden. Bit by tiny bit.

“Nothing can make it all right,” she says. “That’s the truth. The only hard truth I can give you. Hawk Moth is naïve and irresponsible, and if you believe he can solve all your problems with one tiny wish – if you think he can make your life better that way – then you’re even more naïve than he is.”

“It’s not about me,” he responds, voice pressed and quiet.

“That wish? It’s only about you.”

She turns away. Leaves him sitting on the couch. She’s cold and miserable, and the door closes behind her softly. Quietly, she leaves the apartment building, and then she finally allows herself to cry.

“You’re right,” Tikki whispers. “The universe won’t care about feelings, or about sacrifices. It’s not predictable. All it demands is balance, and no one could guarantee whose consciousness it would take in order to wake up Adrien’s mother.”

Marinette bites her thumb. Her eyes are still burning, and she feels so small and helpless that she wants to scream.

“I can’t help him,” she says. “No matter what I do. I can’t help him.”

Tikki releases a breath.

“And Hawk Moth will keep giving him empty promises. It’s how he got Adrien in the first place.” Marinette starts pacing, raking a nervous hand through her hair. “He went up to this thirteen-year-old desperate boy and offered to make his whole life all right again.” She stops, and shivers, and tenses, and kicks her chair so hard it almost topples over. “Fucking bastard. Fucking manipulative asshole. This motherfucking son of a bitch. I’m going to strangle him. I’m going to throw him off a cliff. He’s despicable. He’s so fucking despicable.” She didn’t even realize she started crying, and she forcefully wipes tears from her cheeks. “He took him away. He took away the one person who should belong to me.”

“Marinette,” Tikki carefully tries. “Adrien always had a choice.”

“Did he?” Her voice is too loud and hurts in her own ears. “Did he, really? Or was he manipulated until he had no choice anymore?”

“Marinette – if you say he never had a choice, then he doesn’t have a choice now either.”

Her breaths are hard and painful. She stares at Tikki. She looks away again. She wants to break something, she wants to stop crying, she wants to get more air into her protesting lungs. She wants to hear Adrien’s voice, wants to tell him they will get through this, that it isn’t his fault, it isn’t –

If it was her mother …

If it was her only chance of saving her …

And despite having endless chances to do so, he still didn’t take her earrings. He never did.

“You’re right,” she mumbles. “He has a choice. And he could choose me.”

And if he doesn’t, it will break her apart.

Chapter Text

Adrien isn’t in the study hall in the morning. He doesn’t join Alya and her at lunch. He doesn’t text her at all. When she asks Alya how he is doing, she makes a questioning face and shrugs, asking why Marinette would want to know. In return, Marinette shrugs too.

He is nowhere to be found, and there is no akuma attack, and there is nothing else she can do. So in the evening, she makes a quick detour before she goes straight to Adrien’s, two bags of the best burgers in Paris in her hands. If he sends her away again, then at least she’ll have some good food to soothe the pain.

She hopes to god she won’t have to do so, though.

Her heart is racing in her chest when she rings his doorbell. Seconds pass. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Then, finally, Adrien’s voice sounds.

“Yes?”

“Delivery,” she quips.

He doesn’t react.

“I mean … Hi, Adrien. Let me in?”

“Marinette ….”

“I do have a delivery, you know. And if you don’t let me in, I’ll have to eat your burger on my own. Way too many calories. I’m nearly sick from one burger alone, so I just –”

“You’re very talkative today.”

“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “So? Please?”

Silence again.

She thinks that was enough a sign that she should go, but then, the door buzzes. She jumps on the spot. The paper bags are rustling as she hurries inside, approaching the elevators.

Again, his door is slightly ajar. Again, she slips in as soundlessly as she can. This time he is waiting for her at the kitchen island though, slowly letting one finger after the other meet the counter. There’s something too cold to his eyes. Something that makes her stomach churn.

“Like I said, delivery,” she mumbles with a shaky smile, holding up the paper bags.

“What are you doing here, Ladybug?”

She drops her smile. Doesn’t look at him anymore as she decidedly turns to the couch, letting herself fall into the cushions and opening the bags. Taking out one package after the other.

“I wanted to see you,” she says. “As Marinette. Not as Ladybug, not as a superhero, not as your enemy, not – only Adrien and Marinette. Two awkward former classmates trying to awkwardly bond.”

She doesn’t hear steps. She keeps pulling out their fries from the bags.

“I want us to watch some stupid movie and have some stupid conversations, and –”

“Why?” he interrupts her, tone dry.

“Because,” she responds, trying to ignore how hard her hands are shaking, “I think we both deserve a break. From akumas, from Hawk Moth, from … everything.”

He doesn’t answer.

“We both deserve some normalcy. Sometimes.”

His laugh is tiny and drenched in bitterness. “Well, my lady –”

“Marinette.”

“Marinette,” he repeats. Finally steps closer. Sits down next to her. She can’t read his expression, and he isn’t really looking at her either. “Think running away can make it all easier?”

“No. No, it can’t.” She stares at the black TV screen. “But I think we forgot there’s more to us. We’re more than just two superheroes trying to run away.” Her eyes slide to the side, finding him looking at her. She shudders. “We’re just two stupid university kids with stupid university problems too. Aren’t we?”

He keeps looking at her. He leans back slightly, and slowly, his eyes trail away from her again.

“Which movie?” he asks.

She tries not to find it weird. She tries to abide by her own words, and she leans back too, jamming fries into her mouth. “Sleepless in Seattle.”

He chokes, and then he snorts. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Have you ever watched it? It’s great.”

“It’s sappy.” He turns his head to her. His grin makes her giddy. “I see. You’re sappy.”

“So? Maybe I am.” She throws a fry at him. He doesn’t dodge, and it lands right in his face. “Also, your reaction implies that you already watched it too.”

He throws the fry back at her. She tries to catch it, but it lands in her lap instead, and with a laugh, she eats it. At Adrien’s incredulous look, she shrugs.

“Three second rule.”

“That fry was in my face.”

She grins. “Even better.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Seeing him almost flustered makes something fleeting blossom inside her, and she blushes too.

Because Ladybug would have never in her life said something like this, and Chat Noir would have never in his life reacted like that either. And yet there’s more to it than that. There’s more to it than burying feelings behind stupid façades, and there’s more to it than running from the truth forever.

There must be.

“Sleepless in Seattle it is,” he finally says, voice sounding just a bit too strained.

She is nibbling at her fries as he searches for the movie, and she can’t help but watch him after all. The way his hair falls into his face, the way his profile consists of soft curves, the way his lips shimmer in artificial light. Her face feels warm as she keeps watching him, and eventually, the movie starts playing in front of them.

“I already watched it once, yeah,” he confesses.

“So a rewatch for both of us. I like that.”

He grabs his fries too and starts eating.

They watch in silence at first. Until Marinette grabs her burger, that is. She wants to eat it as elegantly as she can, but of course, the first bite alone causes half of the stuffing to drop back into the box again. She hears a snort from next to her, and she sends Adrien a glare.

“Laughing at me, huh? That’s bold. Let me see you do it better, then.”

“Well, no wonder it’s falling apart. You’re holding it as if you are trying to squeeze out half of the contents.” Adrien leans forward to open his own box. The shimmer of mockery in his eyes is familiar, and she pouts at him in return.

“It would be messy otherwise. I don’t want my fingers to get dirty either.”

“If you do it right, you won’t get your fingers dirty.”

“You’re such a smartass.”

“And you’re cute when you’re being that clumsy.”

She feels herself blush. He clears his throat, quickly looks away. Before they can fall into awkward silence again, she points at his burger.

“As if you are holding it any differently than I am.”

“Well, if you would pay attention, I am.”

Adrien teaches her the true way to eat a burger, and then he teaches her the true way to get just enough mayonnaise onto his fry without it being too much, and then she laughs at him for being kind of ridiculous. She steals a fry from him, sliding closer in the process. He steals a fry in return, sliding even closer to her. Neither of them moves away again.

They start paying less attention to the movie, and instead, Marinette can’t look away from him as he tentatively talks about his homelife. Little stuff at first. Offering her tiny hints. How he started playing the piano when he was little, and how he used to play with Chloé in the mansion’s garden. She reacts by offering some details herself. Like the fact that she is a plant murderer (four out of five plants tended to just die on her balcony, and she still feels horrible about it), and how she used to destroy whole patches of macarons before routine started kicking in.

And he keeps talking. Keeps telling her things she never got to know. How he used to hardly be allowed to go anywhere and hang out with friends while simultaneously having to model for his father. How he couldn’t await the day they would graduate so he could build a life of his own.

“You know,” she says, shrugging. “I always thought university would be much more exciting. It kinda isn’t. Just many, many boring lectures.”

“And many, many boring parties,” he returns.

“For you, maybe, famous model boy.” She takes a cold uneaten fry from her bag and tosses it towards him. It lands on his shoulder this time. Unimpressed, he raises an eyebrow and picks it up. “Aw, now don’t feel offended, famous model boy. Or were you never attacked with fries before?”

“Can’t say I was. But you did attack me with lettuce once.”

She frowns. “What? I did not.”

“Oh, you did. When we were sixteen. You stumbled and tossed your whole tray of food over me.” With a mocking grin, he wiggles his eyebrows. “Really gracefully, I might add.”

She chokes. “Oh my god. I totally pushed that out of my memories.” With a groan, she buries her face in her hands for a second. “Thank you, ever so much for reminding me.”

“Must have been traumatic. Covering your long-standing crush in lettuce like that.”

“Long-standing,” she repeats, blushing so hard she resists the urge to look away. “Yeah, you wish.”

“Mm-hmm. I bet you were so embarrassed you couldn’t stop thinking about it.” He lowers his voice, giving her a mischievous look. “What if you asked out your cute crush, and you would proceed to shower him in lettuce at every single date?”

“Hey! I didn’t think that.” She kicks his leg lightly. “Stop!”

“What if he never forgave you? That’s so embarrassing. Tell me about your feelings, Marinette. What were you thinking about back then?”

“I’m about to cover you in disgusting cold fries.”

“Repeating past mistakes, I see. Or do you always like to cover your crushes in food? Not that I’m kink-shaming, but that’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

She jabs his side. “You’re not funny! Absolutely not funny!”

When she tries to jab his side again, he laughs and grabs her elbow. Because her arm is rendered useless, she moves her leg to kick him instead, and he is forced to let go of her elbow again to stop her foot from hitting him, and she slides closer, has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, can’t stop laughing until she somehow realizes that their limbs are all tangled up and a hand on the small of her back is holding her close and there’s a smile on his lips, so soft and genuine she shivers.

Silence suddenly falls over them. His eyes won’t leave hers. His smile slowly falls, and she feels any amusement drop from her expression too. His scent fills her nostrils, clouds her mind. She is too aware of her hand having come to rest on his elbow, of her leg still draped over his lap.

Without really noticing it, her eyes dart down to his lips, up again. Watching his expression. Watching the shimmer in his eyes. He is breathing just as hard as she is, she realizes, and it makes everything inside her tingle with tiniest feelings.

She swallows gently. Allows herself to stare at his lips. Allows herself to lean closer, just a tiny bit. He could have moved away. He could have, but instead, she sees him angle his head in return. Just another little sign. Just another little promise. She stops just short of kissing him, feels her heart wildly bounce through her chest.

She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what this is. She doesn’t know why she keeps wanting to be close to him, but in the end, the answer is perfectly clear anyway. Right now, right here, they are nothing more than two stupid university students anyway. Right now, it just feels natural to give in, and it feels so easy to let her body relax into his warmth.

So she does.

She closes her eyes, gently brushes her lips over his. A silent question, a tiny plea, and she almost sighs when he pushes back. Only slightly, only a bit. Something tightens in her chest, claws and pounds and wants, and she lets her lips rest over his. Their breaths becoming one, mingling as they move, carefully and tenderly, and they part again. A tentative dance, every step familiar and yet entirely new.

She increases the pressure of her lips over his. Her hand is shaking as she reaches up to cup his cheek, gentle fingers moving over his skin. A hint of stubble, the hard line of his jaw, and he doesn’t move away. He only returns her gentle caress, and she presses her lips against his with more force. This time, a sound escapes him, something pleading, something vulnerable, something that makes the feeling in her chest uncurl and lash out and she grabs his face harder, her lips sliding over his until they part with a wet sound.

She opens her eyes. She is panting for air, her heart jumping rampantly. She looks at him, and he catches her gaze. His expression colored in endless longing. They need no words as his hands find her hips, his thumbs softly stroking her skin. They need nothing at all, and when he comes closer again, her eyes flutter shut until she can feel his soft lips against hers.

Her body cries out for him, moving on its own to come closer, impossibly close until nothing could fit between them anymore. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders. Their lips glide and press, taste and demand until he reciprocates her silent pleas, his fingers threading through her hair and pulling her closer. When their lips part, she can’t hold back a tiny sigh. His lips are on hers in an instant again, and she gives in, falls and falls. Listens to his hard breaths, feels her own heart beat out of her chest, and she pulls back and pushes on, kisses him, devotes every last fiber of her very being to him.

Their lips part once more. Slowly, a pause in a swelling tune, and when she angles her head, the tips of their noses brush. Something bubbles inside her, fills her in the most beautiful way, and she can’t hold back a giggle at the tiny feeling. When she opens her eyes, Adrien stares at her in a kind of awe that makes her shiver.

He whispers her name. Her sound of amusement fades. Her eyes sting. She strokes her thumb over his skin, needs to be closer. Straddles his lap, her eyes still on him, mumbling his name in return. Uttering it like the holiest prayer, and she kisses him.

He tastes like the sweetest gift, like the most beautiful sin. Her hands wander lower, neck and collarbone and chest, and she feels the rapid beating of his heart against her palm. Their lips meet again, and again, leave her helpless and needy, leave her thoughts in shattered pieces as he gives her a tiny moan, a secret promise. His hands wander over her back, dip underneath the hem of her shirt, and her body arches into his warm palms.

She licks his lower lip, catches the tiniest hint of his taste. And he doesn’t let her wait for too long. His tongue softly meeting hers, caressing and massaging, making her shake and whimper. His hands never stopping their slow journey over her body. The feeling in her stomach turns and twists, fills her to the brim, and she grabs his shoulders and gently pushes him back.

For a moment, they both still. His face is flushed, the tip of his nose pink, and she almost releases a giddy sound at the sight. She is breathing so hard that nothing but gasps escape her throat. He stares back at her.

“My la-”

“No,” she interrupts him. Softens her voice. “No. Let me be Marinette. No one else.” Her smile hurts in the corners of her mouth. “Let’s pretend we’re no more than two normal people going crazy over each other. Just for tonight. Please.”

He keeps looking at her. She feels her fingers quiver as she slowly leads them over his chest, over his stomach. His hands are on her waist, staying still until she arrives at the hem of his shirt. Another glance at him, and then she slips her fingers underneath the fabric, nails raking over his muscles. He inhales sharply, closes his eyes.

“Marinette,” he breathes. “I am crazy over you. Always.”

“Are you?” she mumbles. Almost wants to laugh. “Can’t stop thinking about me during your lectures? Can’t stop your thoughts from going elsewhere while doing your boring assignments?” She hitches his shirt up by moving her hands over his stomach, up to his chest again, revealing centimeter after centimeter of perfection. Unwrapping him, tugging at the seams until he is all hers, entirely hers. “And, hm … What else do boring normal people do again?”

He laughs in her stead. “Watch movies. Eat burgers. Talk until they can’t resist kissing the gorgeous girl next to them.”

“Yeah. That.” He obediently lifts his arms, allowing her to undress him. As soon as she has gotten rid of his shirt, she slides down his body again, their lips brushing in the process. They fit so perfectly, melt into each other like they’ve always belonged together. And maybe they have. “Normal people don’t have to think twice about what they want to do to the incredibly beautiful boy lingering in their mind.”

He laughs breathily. “Good thing that we’re normal people, huh?”

He shivers at her touches, at the way she lets her palms wander over his shoulders, his chest, feeling for hard muscles underneath soft skin. Her thumbs brushing his nipples, and she keeps listening for any tiny reaction of his. His hands started drawing tiny circles over her hip bones.

“So, tell me. What do you want to do to me, gorgeous?” he murmurs.

She forgets about how severely her heart could be broken. She forgets about the guilt of never being there for him, of never noticing. Of dismissing Master Fu’s attempts at painting Chat in a better light, of ousting the thought that there could be more to him. For now, she is allowed to acknowledge her desires. To acknowledge that something about him is just right for her.

“I want to show you how precious you are,” she whispers, leaning down to softly kiss his neck. She feels his hands on her upper back, touching her gently as his breath hitches in his throat. “I want to show you that I care about you.” She moves her lips further down, kisses his shoulder, kisses the place where his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I want to show you that you deserve to be believed in, and that I do. I believe in you.”

He swallows audibly. “Who is talking now? Marinette or –”

“I am Marinette,” she interrupts him, sitting up to lean her forehead against his. Hard breaths against her lips, eyes closed, and he melts into the touch just like she needs him to. “I’ve always been Marinette. Every single time you saw me. Every single time you thought about me. And you’re Adrien. I know you. I’ve always known you.”

She kisses the doubts from his lips. She holds his gaze as she moves back, dragging her shirt over her body and taking it off. She never saw that kind of wonder in his face. Never before did he seem so vulnerable, so entirely honest.

Never before was she so sure that what she is seeing is him. In all his imperfections, in all his contradictions, with all his flaws and fears. She never saw Adrien like she sees him now.

She lets his hands wander over her body. Feeling for her curves, touching her stomach, moving higher up. She sighs when he traces the underline of her breasts. His eyes roam over her, explore every tiny detail, his expression of awe never wavering. Softly, his thumb grazes her nipple, making a hot shower travel to her stomach. When he attempts to lean forward, she stops him, a hand on his chest softly pushing him back.

“I want this to be about you,” she whispers. “Only you.”

“Marinette …”

She lets her fingers trail down. Further, further, until they meet the waistband of his jeans. One last look at him, and then she scoots back until only her knees remain on the cushion, further still. Sliding down and going to her knees before him. He watches her, keeps watching her, watches the worshiper dying to show him all her devotion, watches nervous fingers open his belt and undress him, pulling down his jeans, his underwear. Their gazes stay locked even as she leans forward, his member just centimeters away from her.

“I want you to use me,” she says. “Fuck me however you want to, Adrien.”

He shivers visibly. His fingers reaching for her face, tenderly brushing her cheek. She leans into the touch, kisses the tip of his thumb when it comes to rest on her lips.

“Marinette. I don’t want to use you.”

She closes her eyes at his warm caress, at the way he combs his fingers through her hair. Her hands on his thighs start sliding up and down and up again. She becomes hungry, and impatient, and when she opens her eyes to look at him, everything inside her catches fire.

“I want you to fuck my face and enjoy it,” she says, voice sounding foreign in her own ears. “I want you to show me how much you want me. I want you to be crazy about me. I want you to lose your senses when you’re near me.” Her nails dig into his flesh. “Please. Please.”

Her words sound too clumsy, too shaky, and she almost releases a pleading sound when his fingers leave her skin. Her desperation is reflected in his eyes. He wraps his fingers around his shaft. Everything inside her shakes and quivers when he leads his tip to her lips, softly brushing it over them. His taste lingers, and she presses a gentle kiss to the tip, listening to Adrien’s hard breaths.

“Open your mouth,” he whispers.

She obeys. Almost whines as he pushes in. Only slightly, only enough to make his taste hit her tongue. She wants to take him deeper, but then, he lets go of himself. Instead, she feels his fingers grab a handful of her hair, pulling her back again until his dick glides from her lips. Marinette hums in discontent, but all he does is swirl her shoulder-long hair between his fingers until he can pull her even further away. His eyes are glazed with lust, and he licks his upper lip before he releases a breath.

“Look at my cock, Marinette. Look at what you do to me.”

She does. She loves the sight. She loves how thick he is, how he can fill her so good the memory alone makes dampness build between her legs. She moves towards his half-hard member, aware of the hand in her hair. He doesn’t hold her back. He lets her kiss the shaft, lets her nose brush stubble of trimmed hair and musky scent before she licks his balls, tentatively sucking one of them into her mouth. The tip of her tongue playing with the soft skin, caressing and prodding. His grip in her hair tightens, but he doesn’t pull her away.

“I can’t think straight when you’re near me,” she hears him go on, strained words climbing over her skin. “I never could. That’s what you want to hear? That’s what – shit, Marinette –”

She gives his ball another thorough lick, enjoying the way his thighs quiver beneath her hands, and only then does she release him from her lips. Slowly and reverently, she lets her tongue slide from his shaft to the tip of his hardening cock. When she glances at him, his eyes meet hers, catching her gaze with an intensity that has her thighs quiver.

“You want me to fuck your face?” he rasps, perfect chest heaving with his harsh breaths. “Well, who am I to deny such a request?”

She lets herself be led by his hand. She obediently opens her mouth as he moves her over his dick. Her fingers dig into his thighs, and he forces himself deeper, deeper, so deep she almost gags. Her body protests, but she forces herself to relax, to please him in the way he deserves. Tears build in her eyes as she glances up at him. Seeing pleasure surge through him, noticing the way he closes his eyes for just a second to bask in his arousal –

Nothing could have turned her on more.

She can’t cover all of his thick length, but she doesn’t have to anyway when he pulls her back by her hair, letting her lips drag over velvety skin. She does her best to keep breathing through her nose, to keep her throat as loose as possible, and he pulls her hair until only his tip rests between her lips. She eagerly suckles at it, tongue licking anything she can, wet sounds filling the air. He is watching her, keeps watching her until he forces her head forward again.

She moans at the almost intruding feeling. His dick meets the back of her throat. There’s no time to get used to him before he yanks her back, this time so forcefully tears well in her eyes. Tingling pain spreads over her scalp, but she doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite; a hot feeling builds in her stomach at the same time, sluggishly drips to her core, and she can hardly react when Adrien shoves her forward again. Slickening skin gliding over her tongue, her mouth filled until she can hardly breathe, the pulsating twitch of his growing erection palpable as he rests between her lips.

And he is still watching her. Darkened eyes, dilated pupils, an expression of pure lust.

Fuck, he is beautiful.

“That’s what you wanted?” Adrien mumbles, one arm draped over the couch’s backrest. Despite the position she is in, something soft engulfs his words nevertheless. “Do you believe how much I want you now?”

She moans around his cock, presses it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. Her hands propped on his thighs, she tries to get him deeper, but he pulls her back again before she can. He is deliciously hard by now. Her eyes can’t leave his slightly reddened flesh when he pulls her away completely, and she shivers when he lets go of her and grabs his shaft instead, leading his dick towards her face.

“Talk to me, Marinette,” he commands. Pleads.

Warm, slick skin rubs against her cheek, leaving behind a sticky trail of her own drool. She leans into it. “You’re mine,” she brings out through her hoarse throat. “Aren’t you? You’re mine.”

At least for now, at least for this moment, it could be the truth. There’s no one else but them. No thought to waste on what was before, and what will come afterwards. Letting themselves fall into the only escape they can grant themselves, and she starts spreading kisses over his length. Lingering, soft, caring, closing her eyes and enjoying his heat. She feels his fingers caress her cheek as she closes her lips around his glans, suckling and relishing in his taste. His heavy breaths, his groans are the sweetest gifts he could give her.

Slowly, his fingers travel from her cheek to her temple, wander through strands before he catches a fistful of her hair.

“I’m yours,” he agrees, pushing her over his length for good, making her coat his skin in warm drool. She can’t swallow it all down anymore; so when he pulls out this time, a messy string of saliva connects his tip to her lips until it snaps, catching on her chin. “Shit, yes, I’m yours.”

She doesn’t mind being made a mess of. She doesn’t mind that he makes her wrap her lips around him, drool smeared all over her chin when he thrusts into her mouth again. He started out slow and steady, but now he increases the pace, his cock sliding further in and almost fully out again. She gives a greedy sound when he forcefully hits the back of her throat, and she glances up to see him watching her, biting his lip as his breaths turn to groans.

And he finally uses her just like she wanted him to.

Fucking her in earnest, his hand in her hair forcing her forward, pulling her back again, finding a rhythm that increases in intensity. Her jaw already aches, but she is determined to keep up with his demands. Giving in to his melody, letting her mouth be used to his liking. Curses escape him as the grip in her hair tightens, as his thrusts become deeper. She didn’t even notice that she started moaning in time with his thrusts. But his pulsating cock in her mouth tastes too good, feels so goddamn perfect,  tears build in her eyes.

The bobbing of her head is interrupted by a harsh yank to her hair. Pain explodes into pleasure, and her eyes roll to the back of her head as his dick leaves her mouth.

“Out with your tongue,” he tells her.

She doesn’t think twice about it. Not anymore. Their eyes lock, and her heart beats wildly at his expression of pure lust. She watches his face as he grabs his dick, as he starts pumping the tip over her awaiting tongue. Her drool mixes with the heavy taste of his precum. She gasps, moans, presses her tongue harder against the welcomed liquid.

“You like that, huh?” he growls, sounding almost out of his mind as he paints her tongue with his taste. “Tell me where you want me to come, Marinette.”

She whimpers, unable to speak as his dick keeps rubbing over her tongue, more and more until he finally slips it between her lips again. She moans, licks up his precum, swallows down the slightly bitter taste. Hungry for more, more.

But he pulls out again, leaving her in an emptiness that makes her whine, and his eyes are still on hers, prompting her to go on. Demanding, craving, needing, and she can’t help but submit to his silent commands.

“My mouth,” she brings out, licking the remains of his taste off her slickened lips. “Down my throat. I need to – oh god, I need your cum inside me, I need to swallow all of it, please, please …”

“God, Marinette,” he croaks, moving her head against his dick. An approving hum flows from his lips when she accepts him with no hesitation, the feeling of her lips being stretched by his thickness becoming familiar, a sensation she lets herself fall into. “The things you do to me …”

A crude curse slips from his mouth when he has sunk into her once again, and she almost cries out as his hand yanks her back, forward, back, faster. She can’t really keep up with him anymore, can’t do anything but go slack underneath his demands. Her body moves with the thrusts he forces her into, and she listens to his sounds, listens to his moans and hisses. His body is a piece of art - a thin layer of sweat coating soft skin, muscles twitching with the effort of fucking her that thoroughly. His thighs tense underneath her hands, his expression contorts into agonizing desperation. She feels him go deeper, go past a point she is familiar with, filling her throat as she puffs out a breath through her nose, and fuck – his fingers dig into her scalp so hard she is pushed further forward, suppressing a gag, and –

“Fuck, fuck, Marinette,” he hisses on and on, his cock in her mouth pulsating and twitching and her lungs protest wildly as she feels liquid in the back of her throat. A low moan accompanies the surprising spurt. She coughs, pulls back quickly, but she is determined not to waste a single drop. So she closes up her throat and holds her breath, waiting for another spurt to hit her tongue. His head is leaned back, his moans making goosebumps rise all over her skin, and she whimpers wildly when she feels her mouth being filled with thick, creamy liquid, covering her tongue and the roof of her mouth, dripping from her teeth and making her thirsty for more.

His slightly bitter taste is all that is left, and she grabs his shaft to softly pull him out. Looks at him, keeps looking at him, and waits for him to finally lift his head and catch her gaze before she swallows his cum, enjoying every last drop, pulling it from every corner of her mouth. It’s not enough, she decides; far from enough, and she covers his dick in kisses, cleaning it up as carefully as possible.

His fingers are still in her hair. She purrs at the feeling of lazily being caressed, rewards him by kissing his thighs, inhaling his manly scent before she slides further up. Hands pressed against his hip bones, she spreads butterfly kisses over his flat, hard stomach, feeling his muscles twitch underneath her ministrations.

“You still have your jeans on,” he notices, voice sounding so tired and satisfied she feels her chest swell with warmth.

“You have a keen eye,” she mumbles against his stomach, unable to stop kissing every spot she can reach. But he stops her anyway, tugging at her hair until she gets the cue, sliding further up until her body melts against his. Her fingers cup his cheeks, and his hands come to rest on her hips, and for a moment, all they do is look at each other. Counting breaths, counting heartbeats.

“Take them off,” he tells her.

A smile twitches onto her lips. “You’re quite demanding, aren’t you?”

“After you begged me to come into your mouth?” He returns her grin. “Makes two of us, doesn’t it?”

She laughs quietly. She sits up, opens the button of her jeans. Tries to stand up to pull down the piece of clothing. Her knees are still shaking, and her body is craving him, and when she moves to her panties, he suddenly leans forward, letting a finger graze the fabric. Arousal pushes through her whole being. She can feel how wet she is, how her panties dampen the moment he presses them against her lower lips. She pants, watches him. How he glances up at her, how his golden hair falls into his face, how his forehead still glistens beneath a sheen of sweat.

She thinks about pulling him closer, making him kiss her and pleasure her until she’ll break apart. But when she reaches out for him, he backs away again, drawing her with him by digging his fingers into the back of her thighs. She straddles his lap. Doesn’t protest as he drags down her panties until they stop at her knees, and she lifts her leg to drag it further down, eventually leaving it pooled around her other knee.

“Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, eyes trailing from her arousal over her stomach, naked breasts to heated eyes. “Let me see your beautiful pussy when you come.”

Fuck, fuck. Really, who is she to decline? So she props one hand on his shoulder, the other one starting its slow journey. From collarbone to her nipple, down her stomach to her mound. He watches her every movement, breaths escaping him harshly.

She avoids touching her clit right away. Instead her finger teases her folds, feel for how wet she is. And it’s pretty apparent what her actions did to herself – when she removes her finger again, a string of arousal is left behind, stretching longer and longer until it snaps. Her juices glisten on the tip of her finger. She almost can’t decide who deserves to taste her more, but she’ll be merciful for now. So she leads her finger to his lips. Even before she touches his mouth, his tongue already darts out, eagerly licking her arousal from her fingertip like a kitten would catch milk from her skin.

She hums in appreciation. Lets her thumb wander over his cheeks, revels in the way he closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“You’re so good to me, Adrien,” she whispers, leading her finger back to her pulsating need. “So good. Way too good.”

His hands softly wander over her thighs as she presses her finger against her clit. She pushes in a breath, feels tingling pleasure spread all over her, and when she gives a rough rub, she almost cries out. She’s already so aroused that her thighs shake wildly, so soaking wet that her folds squelch when she moves her fingers through them again, and his fingers on her thighs tense with the way she gets louder, not holding back anymore. Adrien stares at her face, looks at her pussy, and fuck, she can’t do this anymore.

“Spread my pussy for me,” she says huskily, trying to control her quivering voice. “C’mon, Adrien. You wanted to watch, right?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, his hands travel further up. She shifts to give him a better view, and the feeling of his fingers touching her outer lips has her shake and mewl. The circles on her clit get more urgent, even more so when fascination shimmers in Adrien’s eyes, fingers softly pressing and stroking and spreading her apart until the consuming emptiness deep inside her is hardly bearable anymore.

She thinks about fingering herself, but decides not to. Not when his touches draw mewls and moans from her lips anyway. Instead she feels her orgasm build, the tingling sensation of her swollen lips being fondled and stretched spurring her on even more, and she has to close her eyes, has to –

A finger suddenly pushes into her, and she all but cries out at the exploding pleasure, vision going white for a moment. Her eyes snap open, and she stares at the way Adrien raises his eyebrows at her. Moving his finger deeper in, out again, making her shake so wildly her nails bite into his shoulder to keep herself up.

“You’re soaking wet,” he says, face both innocence and pure sin at once. “How do you expect me not to give you what you need?”

“Y-you don’t hear m-me complaining, do you?” she manages, continuing her rough circles on her clit. Throwing her head back as he pushes deeper, deeper, finding just the right place to tease her, to make her squirm and gasp. Her hips start moving steadily, bringing him deeper again and again. The moment he adds a second finger, pleasure swells inside her again, and it’s almost too much, too much –

Senseless syllables spill from her lips, tumble and echo as she keeps fucking herself on his fingers, and she rubs her clit so fiercely her legs almost give out, thoughts swirling and head a mess and everything just becoming too much, too overwhelming as pleasure consumes her, as it grows and snaps –

She comes with a cry, comes so hard she all but collapses, sobbing his name until he finally kisses her breathy words from her lips. His fingers stilling, finding a lazy rhythm, and she lets herself be pushed on her back, lets him kiss her and kiss her. Another orgasm creeps up on her, slowly and sluggishly, builds in waves and tumbles and falls, leaves her with no air as she keeps whispering his name like a prayer, needing to be closer, closer, needing to be one.

She reaches her peak in a wave of sighs and tiny promises, and she could come again and again, but Adrien’s voice wrenches her from her tired needy thoughts.

“Marinette. Marinette, look at me.”

She does. She meets his green eyes. She meets the tender expression on his face. He removes his fingers from her, drags his slick fingers over her thigh, squeezes and touches it. Her hands slide from his shoulders down to his elbows, explore the curve of muscles that should belong to her, and only her.

She smiles at him. At the way he looks at her, desire and yearning, the hunger of a man dying to have her. She pulls him towards her lips, kisses him chastely.

“Great,” she whispers. “Now we couldn’t even rewatch the movie together.”

He smiles, and then he chuckles. “Someone was being too distracting.”

“And someone let himself be distracted.” She giggles when he brushes his nose over her cheek.

“God. I love the sound of your laugh.”

She shivers. Whimpers. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Don’t say that,” she repeats weakly, his wet kiss on her neck making her shake wildly. “Don’t … Adrien …”

“Don’t?” he mumbles, nibbling her skin gently until heat pools between her legs once again.

“Don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t.

It’s warm in Adrien’s living room. Too warm. Marinette is no more than a sweaty mess by now, and Adrien doesn’t fare any better. His skin is damp and hot to the touch, and still she doesn’t move away, her cheek resting on his chest as his fingers draw nonsensical patterns over her upper arm. The floor might be uncomfortable, but her limbs feel like jelly and her body is just a lump of unmoving matter.

So she stays where she is. Staring at the ceiling while huddled up against Adrien’s side, the feeling of his fingers dancing over her skin enough to lull her into tiredness. His voice a constant comforting presence as she tries not to close her eyes.

“You decided to work in your parents’ bakery, and I’m the guy who orders a fresh croissant and a coffee every morning.”

She hums in thought. “I think you’re cute. But I don’t have the courage to ask if you’re coming to the bakery for me.”

“Of course it’s for you. I choose your bakery over Starbucks. That should mean something.”

Laughing quietly, she snuggles up closer to him. “Will you make the first move?”

“Probably.” His chest moves with his breaths. “I probably won’t be able to hold it in. Two months max, and I will try to have a longer conversation with you.”

“Okay. You try to do some small talk. I’m dying behind the counter because the handsome stranger wants to actually talk to me.”

“You’re cute.” He chuckles, presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I want to eat you up. On the spot. Unwrap you until you’re a flushed mess for me.”

“No, no,” she giggles. “I want this to be wholesome. You want to take me out. Ask me out!”

“I ask you out.”

“I die of embarrassment. The end.”

“Oh, no. Don’t do me like that.” Snorting, he moves his head away again. “You hesitate, but you say yes. I take you out for dinner. Try to impress you. But you don’t care about fancy restaurants or expensive wine. You’re kind of clumsy with your food, and I find it so endearing that I can’t stop smiling at you the whole evening.” He lowers his voice. “I tell you I’ll bring you home. You say it’s not necessary at first, blushing all over. I say it is. So we start walking through the night. I want to hold your hand, but I don’t dare touch you. Not when you seem so nervous. But I’m nervous too, believe me. I just don’t want to let it show.”

“I don’t think I notice,” she whispers, letting her hand wander up and down his torso.

“I’m glad.” He laughs. “So we arrive at your apartment building. We stop at the entrance. We turn to each other. You still seem so nervous, and you tell me you had a nice time. I want to kiss you so bad. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity. But you’re too hasty, and you hug me and try to get away from me too fast. So –”

“No, I don’t like that,” she interrupts him. “I want to kiss you too. I just can’t believe this is actually happening.”

He hums. “So? What do you do?”

“I hug you for longer than necessary.” Her fingertip traces an invisible line from his chest to his stomach. “I press my cheek against yours, hoping you’ll get the hint.”

“You smell so good,” he mumbles, burying his nose in her hair and pecking the crown of her head. “Let’s say I can’t resist. Let’s say you pull back, and I grab you face and kiss you. I kiss you until you tremble for me.”

She gives an approving sound, the mental image enough to make her slide even closer, to make her drape a leg over his.

“You won’t sleep with me on the first date,” he goes on, fingers wandering from her arm to her hair, playing softly with a strand. “You’re far too nervous for that, aren’t you? But you let me take you out again. The anticipation is driving me crazy, but I don’t want to make you assume I’m only in it for the sex. Because I’m not.”

She shivers. “What are you in it for then?”

“You, Marinette. Just you.”

She has to close her eyes for a moment. “Third date. I’m the one who comes onto you. We’re just having a nice movie date, and I suddenly jump you and furiously start making out with you.”

He laughs in earnest. “I like that. Believe me, I’d die of happiness.”

“Because I finally touched your dick?”

With a snort, he nips her in the side. She squeaks and giggles.

“No,” he tells her. “No. It’s far more than that. So much more.”

They fall silent again. She understands the sentiment. His ceiling is white and even, his lights dimmed, painting them in shadows.

“Another scenario,” she mumbles, a tiny sound shattering quietness. “We are in school. You never dated your ex, and I never dated mine. What happens?”

He gives a tiny sound. “Nino and Alya force us to hang out more often.”

“So we become closer friends?”

“We do. I’m scared of telling you how pretty I think you are. I probably don’t even notice that I’m falling for you, bit by tiny bit.”

She lets him go on.

“And then … When we’re sixteen or seventeen, you find out who I really am.”

She closes her eyes.

“You find out I’m Chat Noir, and you start hating me.”

“I won’t start hating you,” she whispers.

His hand is still in her hair, wrapping strands around his fingers and letting them fall down again. “I think you will. I think you’ll feel betrayed and hurt.”

“Unless you join my side,” she whispers.

He doesn’t stop touching her. She doesn’t turn her head to see if he is looking at her. Silence remains until it is broken yet again.

“I wish it could be that easy.”

She closes her eyes. “Another scenario. I find you sooner than Hawk Moth does, and you believe me when I tell you we’re supposed to be a team. We’re partners from day one. We trust each other with our lives, and it’s inevitable that I end up falling for you.”

“And I fall for you,” he whispers. “We defeat Hawk Moth together. I will never know about what I sacrificed to be at your side.”

She feels her throat close up. She tries to smile. “I think I like that scenario best. We give up our Miraculouses after our job is done, and we live happily and carefreely ever after.”

“We could open up a little bakery,” he quips.

“You’re pretty fond of watching me bake, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I just like watching you getting your hands dirty.”

She laughs, leans into his warmth. Tries to enjoy this moment for all it is worth. It’s nighttime already, and sooner or later, she’ll have to go. She’ll have to leave this little lie behind and go back to a scenario she can’t escape from; one in which Chat Noir is forced to choose between two persons who matter to him, and in which she is pretty sure she won’t be his first choice.

She bites her lip and doesn’t cry.

Chapter Text

Everything is off.

The melody which was once so clear doesn’t make any sense anymore. Every step Marinette takes seems somehow wrong, seems askew and wavers in its many bumps. She tries to block it out, but it stares her in the face every time she sees green eyes on her, looks she wishes she knew what to do with.

She doesn’t want to want him that much. And yet she can’t escape.

She pushes the realization away. She falls into the feeling of being his, entirely his. She visits him in the late evenings. Sometimes, rarely, they do nothing. His arm draped around her shoulder, and her legs on his lap. Watching a movie, or talking about nothing at all. Her fingers tracing invisible paths over his shirt. Making her giggle and laugh, making her lean into his warmth, making her wish this could be the only moments they share.

Sometimes, nothing remains but the pressing heat between them as she gives in to her desires, no matter the consequences.

It starts with a touch on her thigh, with fingers gently wandering over her skin. Something that lights up a fire deep in her stomach, one she could never resist. At first, she pretends not to feel it while she keeps staring at the TV screen. Something mindless, something neither one pays attention to, one of so many excuses.

But her body betrays her anyway. Her staggering heart, her fluttering breaths, the way she seeks his nearness – her shoulder against his, his fingers becoming more daring. It’s an entirely different kind of game. She falls into it, into all the feelings she can’t hide anymore. So she shifts until her body is closer to his, until she is able to inhale his pleasant scent. It’s almost funny how this alone makes heat throb in her abdomen, how she has to hold back from rubbing her thighs against him, how hungry she starts to feel.

God, she needs him. She needs him so much.

Impatience takes the better of her, and she shifts and sits up until she can press a light kiss to his neck. She feels the hum vibrating in his throat, and his hand wanders from her thigh to her bottom, drawing her closer still.

“Already had enough of the movie?” he asks.

“You haven’t?” she returns, kissing a path up to his jaw. “Don’t mind me, then.”

“Don’t mind you,” he repeats, laughter in his voice, and his hands grab her waist and pull her to him, forcing her to straddle his lap – she doesn’t protest. “You think I’d be able not to mind you?”

Her heart flutters. She holds his gaze, lets her hands rest on his cheeks. A shimmer of soft affection, and she doesn’t let herself think about it too much. The fact that even though they are sitting here like this, he still can’t –

She abruptly leans forward and locks their lips.

Their kisses have become familiar. She knows him, knows him so well. Knows which pace to choose, knows when to tease him and when to reward him. The feeling of his hands roaming her back, sneaking under her skirt’s fabric, cupping her ass and stroking her sides and she shifts closer and closer, combs her fingers through his hair.

Her thoughts are already swirling when he kisses her collarbone, fingers tentatively hiking up her shirt, touching centimeter after centimeter of her skin until he can press his lips to one of her nipples. The light touch makes her squirm, makes her gasp and close her eyes for a second.

It seems almost unreal to watch Adrien kissing her nipple softly, closing his lips around it, tongue licking and tapping against the nub. Marinette releases a wavering breath. Pleasure sweeps between her legs, the feeling of hot wetness against her sensitive skin causing little tiny feelings to fill her stomach. Adrien cups her breast with one hand while caressing her nipple gently and thoroughly, drawing tiny sounds from her lips –

Until he closes his teeth around the nub and gently pulls.

It kind of hurts, and it kind of doesn’t, and Marinette has to smack a hand over her mouth not to release a scream. He sucks so hard she sees stars, and she doesn’t even realize her hips rock against him until he hums around her nipple, fingers on her breast squeezing more roughly.

It’s almost ridiculous that she already feels on the verge of something as his tongue swirls around her nipple, worshiping it in a way that makes everything inside her shake. She can’t stop watching. He’s so concentrated on her pleasure that her core starts throbbing in need, his hand massaging soft flesh as he kisses and suckles and bites, and her breaths are already becoming helpless whimpers when he looks up at her again.

And she can’t hold back any longer.

“Adrien, please,” she rasps, pressing her pulsating core against his lap, fingers in his hair tugging gently to get his lips closer to hers again.

Laughter sits in his eyes as he gives her nipple one last little kiss. “What do you need, Marinette? Tell me.”

She doesn’t hesitate anymore to grab his face and kiss him. So deeply nothing but his taste remains, giving him her all as he does the same for her. “Fuck me, please,” she whispers between kisses, mewls in delight when he grabs her ass so roughly it almost hurts, and his tumbling breath sets everything inside her on fire.

“Asking so nicely, huh,” he says, and he sounds hastier than his words imply. “How can I say no?”

“You don’t. You –”

She gives a surprised sound when he grabs her waist and forces her on her back. His lips are on her neck, his hands pull up her shirt until she complies, letting him undress her. He cups her neglected breast as soon as he has gotten rid of her shirt, squeezes so hard her body shudders. Gasping, she tries to catch his eyes.

“Turn around,” he tells her.

She swallows down a protest. She is too far gone anyway. So she does as she was told, propping herself on her elbows and trying to watch him over her shoulder. She has no choice but to bend her knees, her skirt riding up in the process, and it becomes difficult to notice his every reaction in this position.

“Tell me more,” he says, voice husky and heavy with arousal, a tone that makes a shiver climb all over her skin. “How do you want to be fucked by me? Tell me.”

She feels his fingers wander over her inner thigh, from her knee up to her arousal and down again, and she whimpers helplessly, unable to watch him anymore. Closing her eyes, she falls into the sensations he grants her. Tries to find words, tries to hold on to anything at all.

“I don’t know,” she breathes, legs shaking as both his hands stroke her thighs, cup her ass, play with the elastics of her panties.

“You want me to use my fingers? My tongue?”

She groans, screwing her eyelids shut as slowly, ever so slowly, he starts dragging down her panties. They pool at her knees, and it only takes another small second until a finger is wandering through her wetness, stopping at her entrance to tease it gently. Arousal curls in her stomach, and she buckles against the touch, seeking for more, for more.

“No,” she whimpers. “No –”

“You don’t want my fingers?” His voice washes over her, drenches her in a kind of arousal that almost makes her lose her mind. Her blood sings in her veins when he starts inserting his finger. Not deep enough, not nearly deep enough, stopping too soon and not stretching her like she needs him too, and she forms her hands to fists in frustration, trying to rock against him to get what she so desperately wants. He doesn’t comply, though. “You don’t want to fuck yourself on them until you come?”

She whines. “No – I need –”

“What do you need, Marinette? Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do. How you want it. Tell me.”

The words will hardly form on her tongue, and it’s becoming harder to breathe as he moves his finger out, in again – not enough – her thoughts are swirling, and in her hazy desperation, she finally forces herself to say it.

“Your – Adrien, I need your cock inside me, I – I need you to fuck me hard, I need to … I –”

“Hard?” he repeats, sounding just as breathless as she feels. “That’s what you want? You want it hard and rough?”

“Please – yes, fuck, please –”

“Anything you want, princess.” She hears the rustling of clothes, and when she manages to look over her shoulder, she nearly forgets how to breathe. Artificial light draws shadows over his muscles, mused hair falls into his face, and he meets her eyes as he unbuckles his belt, the evidence of his arousal already visible thtough his jeans. “Say the word, and I’ll give you anything you need.”

She feels helpless in her position, and yet Adrien is panting behind her, seeming just as out of his mind, just as needy as she feels. She grips the sofa’s cushion in anticipation, arches her back for him, feels the coldness of the room hit her slickened folds until his hard cock comes into sight. She bites her lower lip to not release a needy sound. His fingers curl around the shaft, give his dick a slow and steady pump, and her mouth waters at the beautiful sight.

“I need you,” she tells him, shifting towards him, inviting him to finally take her like she wants him to. “Now. Now, Adrien.”

He exhales audibly. Warmth presses against her entrance, but he doesn’t go further, and closing her eyes again, she whines and moves her hips towards him.

“God, I love when you’re that eager for me,” she hears him say, the awe in his voice too much, too much –

He grabs her hips, and he thrusts into her so hard so suddenly that she gives a soundless cry.

The intruding feeling shakes her to her core, makes a strangled noise leave her throat, but he doesn’t give her any time to get used to him. The next thrust hits her just as deep, brushing places that make her mind shatter, the feeling of almost-pain twisting into a kind of pleasure that renders any thought useless. The harsh sound of flesh against flesh echoes in her ears as Adrien rams into her again, his own grunt going right through her, the feeling of his dick stretching her so suddenly and violently bringing tears to her eyes as pleasure throbs between her legs, moves through her body, making her moan and making her eyes roll back, and her finger cramp into the cushions as she desperately tries to hold on to something, anything at all. It feels so good, too good, fuck –

Her peak hits her with a suddenness that makes her lose her mind for good, leaves her with senseless sounds and the feeling of being lost to him entirely.

She is a mess already, and she can’t get enough of it.

“Don’t stop,” she hears herself demand, tongue tripping over any coherent sound. “D-don’t – fuck, you’re so good, so –”

She is interrupted by another hard thrust, the momentum pressing her cheek against the cushions, fire engulfing her every fiber as she whimpers in wild need. He heeds her command. His rhythm unforgiving, his hips ramming against hers as a groan spills from his throat, his dick pushing so deep inside her that she can’t think anymore, and –

A slapping sound echoes through the room, and she only realizes what exactly happened when electrifying pain twitches from her behind through her whole body. A loud moan leaves her lips, his cock ramming into her once again, fingers digging into her hips to hold her in place, to fill her to the brim and not let go of her, never let go of her.

Fuck, fuck –

She comes again with a cry, legs shaking so hard she’d collapse if it wasn’t for Adrien’s hands holding her place, if it wasn’t for him using her body until she can’t breathe anymore, if it wasn’t for his cock sinking into her again and again with a pace that nearly overwhelms her.

“You like that, huh?” she hears him say, voice dark and laced with desire. “Tell me to do it again.”

She doesn’t even know what he means, but everything he does only drives her higher, and she wishes he would never stop, would fuck her until she forgets her own name, and her sight is blurry and her body is succumbing to him entirely as she tries to reply.

“Yes, I – Chat, please, again, I can’t – I can’t –”

She hears the impact of his palm hitting her ass before she even feels it, the sound sharp and hard. Another wave of pain crashes through her, blooming on her behind and spreading through her body in racing currents. Her moan sounds strangled and desperate, fingers cramping into the cushions, and the tears in her eyes almost spill over as another orgasm crashes over her, drawn-out sounds dripping from her throat.

“Marinette,” he groans. “Fuck, Marinette …”

Her name on his lips, spoken like the holiest prayer, makes her mewl in return. She attempts to move with him, tries to clench her muscles around him, and the moan he gives her is the sweetest reward she has ever received. It doesn’t matter anymore, it really doesn’t, and the words leave her before she can even think about holding them back.

“Please – Adrien, come inside me, please – I need to … I need you to fill me, please –”

“Whatever you wish for, my lady,” he returns huskily, and she feels his hand run down her side, over her back, to her neck until he twirls a fistful of hair in his hand. The soft touch makes her purr at first, makes her lean into it and arch her back.

But then, he pulls so roughly she is forced to prop herself on her arms, and a sound between agony and arousal gets stuck in her throat as pain explodes in her scalp, her whole body shaking as she feels like she is falling apart yet again.

“No one will ever be able to make you feel so good,” he growls, pulling her hair more gently than before, but with enough force to make her eyes roll back and her mouth go slack. “No one else can fuck you as well as I can. No one. Right?”

She shudders, moves her hips against his, his cock hitting her so deep, his hand in her hair tugging until she whimpers. Every ounce of pain becomes a kind of pleasure she can’t describe, something she can thrive on until she’s shaking like a leaf.

“Only you,” she forces out, voice weak and quivering. “Adrien … Fuck, fuck, only you, only –”

He rewards her with a thrust that makes her cry out, and she almost slumps forward when he lets go of her hair again. But before she can, his fingers wrap around her throat, effectively holding her upright, only gently pressing against her windpipe; only enough for her to feel a kind of comfortable pressure that makes her hum in appreciation.

“And only you, Marinette,” he says, voice strained and words all over the place. “God, only you.”

Their rhythm is so perfect she pushes anything else aside. The only thing that matters is Adrien moving against her, one hand on her throat, one on her thigh as she fucks herself on him, needing him to finally fill her up, needing him to make her his. Her clipped moans vibrate against his palm. She keeps up her movements, shuddering when he lightly squeezes her throat, just enough to make her moans become strangled needy sounds.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans. She’s almost disappointed when he lets go of her throat again, but him gripping her waist hard enough to surely leave bruises is a good compromise. “You really want me to come inside you, huh?”

“Yes,” she mewls. The thought alone is too much – his hot cum spilling deep inside her, painting her and marking her, and she moves until flesh meets flesh in a slapping sound, moans at the thought of him spending himself inside her. She needs it, she needs him, she needs him so much that she can’t help but whimper when he fucks her harder again, when his movements finally seem to become erratic. “Please, Adrien, fill me with your cum, I need to – I need –”

He curses, and groans, and thrusts into her, more and more, again and again. Fingers digging into her flesh, making her move in just the way he needs it. Until she thinks she can finally feel it. His dick pulsating inside her, spilling his warmth into her, filling her body with sweet satisfaction as his fingers cramp into her flesh and his grunts become clipped and loud and desperate. He keeps up his pace for a few more seconds, riding out his high as she encourages him with small sounds.

It takes some time until he stills inside her, and Adrien’s grip on her softens more and more as he stops moving entirely. Instead, his hands start gently stroking her skin, from her maltreated behind to her sides, an arm wrapping around her waist to hold her upright as he spreads butterfly kisses over her shoulders. She sighs, leans into the press of lips until he arrives at her neck.

“My arms feel like jelly,” she mumbles.

“Sounds like I did something right, then,” he responds.

She hums, but he shows mercy anyway. Letting go of her, leaving nothing but weird emptiness behind as he pulls out. Before she can collapse for good, he catches her, arms wrapping around her waist as he lays down by her side, burying his face in her chest, peppering her skin with soft kisses.

“You did a lot of things right,” she admits. Giggles when his kisses wander further upwards. “So many things.”

“Mm-hmm,” he responds. Pecks her lips. “Go on. Give me some examples. Would love to hear it.”

“I would, but then again, you could work on some other things.” She grins when Adrien moves away a bit, sending her a questioning look. “For example, you couldn’t even undress me right.”

“Right.” He smirks. Moves further down her body, hooks his fingers into her panties still pooled between her knees. She lets him undress her for good, lets him pull down her skirt too, lets him grab her thighs and spread them before him. She long since stopped being embarrassed about baring herself to him, but the fascination in his eyes will never stop making her heart thump.

“Better,” she mumbles.

“Definitely better,” he agrees, spreading her folds with his fingers. She feels herself shiver, feels a tinge of pleasure swell in her core yet again. “So much better.”

She doesn’t protest when he leans down, when his lips softly caress her sex. When his tongue starts lapping up their combined taste, making her breathe harder again, making her squirm as he thoroughly cleans every spot of her. Lost to sensations, she leans her head back, closes her eyes, rewards him with little words, lets him worship her until she feels like she could drown in the feeling forever.

It’s nighttime already.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought won’t leave her be. At the end, she’ll still have to get up and go. At the end, no matter how much he worships her, no matter how soft his kisses are, no matter how gently his hands trace the shape of her body, she can’t risk it. If she stayed, she could wake up without her earrings, and there would be no doubt about what happened.

So, for now, she doesn’t think about it. Nothing matters but Adrien devoting himself to her, and nothing matters than giving herself up to him in every way possible.

For now, it really is all that matters.

They don’t see each other every day, but she can’t keep away from him for too long. His messages alone make her crave his touches, and she gives in every single time.

It’s another one of those nights, though.

It’s raining outside. Marinette is curled up on his couch, waiting for him to return from the bathroom. It’s cold without him. Drops patter against the windows, and she watches shadows move over white plaster. Senseless trails, fast and slow, more and more –

Lightning illuminates the whole room.

Only a moment. Only flashing lights. But her eyes catch onto something she didn’t ever notice before. She frowns. Slowly peels the thin blanket from herself and stands up. The room is quiet around her. She doesn’t stop. Not before she arrives at the shelf she never paid attention to, at the picture frame right in front of her.

Big green eyes and beautiful blonde hair. A graceful smile. High cheekbones, flawless skin, an expression that speaks of gentle power. Picture-perfect. It’s not hard to guess who that woman is. She seems ethereal, a being too unreal to exist in this world.

The angry growl of the storm engulfs her, and when it lets go of her again, a voice sounds behind her.

“Being nosy, are you?”

She jumps. Her surprised scream gets stuck in her throat. A hand on her shoulder holds her in place, and Adrien leans over her shoulder, eyes on the portrait.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Nothing to apologize for.”

She nods. Looks back at the photo. “Is that your …”

“Yeah.”

An ugly feeling forms in her stomach, crawls up her throat, spreads a sour taste over her tongue. Her fingers twitch to grab the frame and toss it to the floor. She stays still. Green eyes watch her, a mocking smile follows her, and before she can turn back to him, his voice reaches her ears.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Marinette stays still. “Where is she now?”

A moment of silence. Warm lips on her temple. “That, little bug, I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” she replies drily. “You can’t tell me the hospital’s name? What do you think I’ll do? Choke her to death?”

Thunder growls. She doesn’t wince, but her own choice of words leaves goosebumps in its wake. Adrien doesn’t move away either. His mother watches them out of tender green eyes.

For a long moment, nothing happens. For a long moment, she tries to forget.

“She would like you,” he says. It sounds like a lie. It probably is a lie.

“I would have liked her too,” she returns soberly.

They stay silent. There is no use in speaking the truth, because they both know it anyway. She wants them to stay like this forever. She wants them to be no more than two people falling for each other. She wants it so bad her heart aches, so bad her eyes sting, and his touches are reassuring and shattering at once.

She doesn’t know how to go back to the way they were. She doesn’t know how to see him as no more than her enemy.

She can’t.

The words stick to her lips. The plea to tell her who he will choose. The desperation of needing him by her side. But the truth could have broken her into pieces, and it’s safer to bite her tongue. To return his mother’s eternal stare, and never say a word.

“She used to joke around a lot.” He brushes hair from her neck. She lets him. “Drove my father crazy with her silliness. She always made me laugh.”

She doesn’t want to hear this. She doesn’t want to hear any of this.

“She liked to go stargazing with me. Sometimes we even took Chloé with us. And we –”

“Please stop,” she whispers.

The rain creates a wholly unfamiliar song, drives away last bits of endless quietness. His fingers still on her neck. She bites back tears. She bites back everything. The ghost of a woman on the verge of death keeps smiling her graceful smile, taunting her with empty looks. Marinette swallows down the sour taste coating her mouth. It’s no use.

“What do you want me to say, Marinette?” he returns. Sounds just as desperate as she feels.

“Nothing. Just say nothing.”

“I told you –”

“I know,” she interrupts him harshly. Moves away from him, but she can’t look at him without feeling her whole body shiver wildly. “I know what you told me.”

He stays silent, and her words escape her in shaking syllables.

“You won’t ever choose me, will you?”

Thunder rolls over the city. Wind howls. She looks outside, sees tree crowns sway and dance. A melody clear as darkest nights. The moon is hidden by clouds, and she doesn’t look at his mother anymore as she dares turn around, meeting his gaze. His expression is hardened, but she knows the shimmer of yearning grazing his eyes.

“Why did you kiss me?” she says, sounding breathless and helpless and weak. “Why? You should have never done it. You should have never – just why?”

“You kissed me back. You –”

“Yes. Because I’d choose you. I’d always choose you.”

“That’s some big words, huh?” He clenches his hands to fists, but doesn’t come closer to her. “Sure you would? After calling me disgusting and obnoxious more times than I can count?”

She stares at him. She gives a humorless laugh. “Really? Really, Adrien? You never told me! You never told me who you are doing this for, and why, and –”

“And now you want me to let her die.”

“That’s not what I said.” Helpless anger bites through her veins. Raindrops are pounding against windows. “God, Adrien, no. It’s just …”

Adrien returns her look. Green eyes drenched in coldness. A ghost of a sneer on his lips. It almost feels familiar, dancing around each other like that. Staying quiet would have been easier. Less painful, too.

“Say it, my lady,” he purrs. “Say what you’re thinking.”

She opens her mouth. Searches for the right words. Feels herself grow small, and yet she doesn’t give in. Sooner or later, the truth always catches up with you. It always does.

“If she didn’t wake up for seven years,” she whispers, “then I don’t know how … I don’t know how to help, Adrien.”

“You think she’s already dead.” He steps closer. She automatically stumbles back. “You think I should choose you over a dead woman. Is that right?”

“No. Adrien.” Her throat feels too tight. She resists the urge to claw at it. “It’s your choice. I can’t make you decide.”

“What would you do if it was your mother?” He comes even closer, closer and closer. Shadows dancing over his face, creating obscure tunes. “You wouldn’t make the wish, right? You wouldn’t. Because that’s the only good choice you could make. Sacrifice her for the greater good. Who cares about a single person? No one does. No matter how much she means to you. Is that it?”

Her back hits the wall. Her lungs hurt. His eyes hold hers. She wants to run. She doesn’t.

“Do you think she’ll make you happier?” Marinette whispers. “Do you think your whole life will change if she wakes up?”

“You have no fucking idea.”

Marinette gives a sound when two hands ram into the wall next to her head, caging her in. Adrien is still staring at her. She keeps watching him, her whole body on high-alert. Ready to run, ready to leave him behind.

“You have no idea what happened to my father when she disappeared,” he whispers. “How miserable he became. You have no idea what we felt.”

“When she disappeared,” she repeats slowly.

He stays silent. Something flashes through his eyes. But then he gives a clipped laugh, and he pushes himself away from the wall again, raking a hand through his hair as he averts his gaze. She tries to put the pieces together until her head hurts, but she doesn’t arrive at a solution.

“He was devastated when she fell ill,” Adrien mumbles.

Even though it doesn’t quite fit, she has no other choice but to keep going; and disregarding the thoughts swirling through her head, she looks at him steadily.

“But you don’t owe it to your father to bring her back,” Marinette says. “You don’t owe it to anyone. It’s not your fault she fell ill.”

“Maybe it isn’t. But I’m the only chance of her ever waking up.”

“We are.”

His eyes glide back to her. His smile seems pained. “But you will never decide to do it. You’re choosing yourself over her.”

“I am,” she breathes, “choosing the whole world’s wellbeing over a woman I don’t know.”

“Like I said. The greater good.”

She closes her eyes. “Adrien. What you are asking of me isn’t fair.”

“And what you are asking of me is any more just?”

Fuck this. Fuck all of this. She wants to cry. She wants to scream. She presses a hand against her eyes for a moment. She breathes in, breathes out, feels weak and fragile, feels her heart burst with hurtful stings.

“Then take them,” she hears herself say. “Take them. Now.”

Silence. Not even thunder. The night breathes with them. Nothing moves.

“Take them,” she repeats, more harshly this time. “Before I change my mind.”

“Ladybug …”

“You heard me. God damn it, Adrien.” Her voice cracks as she sharply looks up, tears making her sight blurry. “Take them. Take my goddamn earrings.”

He hesitates. He stares at her. He stares at her for so long the anger almost snaps, and she gives a shrill laugh, wanting to kick at something, needing to get it all out.

“You aren’t doing it. You had thousands of chances to steal my earrings, and you never did.”

He sets his jaw. He doesn’t reply.

“Calling me heartless, huh? Even though you know it’s the right thing to do. You fucking know.” She snorts. “Hypocrite. That’s what you are.”

“I’m –”

“You want me to make the choice, don’t you?” She fights against the tears smothering her voice, getting so loud her own words ring in her ears. “You want me to make it all right again. You always did. You wanted Hawk Moth to save you, eating from his hand like a good little pet. And now you want me to do the same. You don’t want to take any fucking responsibility, do you? That’s easy, isn’t it? Sitting at the sidelines and nodding politely while others do the hard work. Right? Playing your stupid games, because you aren’t able to make real decisions. Isn’t that so?”

“It isn’t.” But he seems so small and helpless in the middle of the room, suddenly so powerless she wants to throw her head back in wild laughter, and she glares at him as her words shake and crash around them.

“Grow up, Agreste. Be with me or be against me, and deal with the consequences. Stop trying to hope others will make you complete.” She grits her teeth. “Because they don’t. They can’t.”

Silence settles once again. Despite her words, Marinette feels like sinking into herself, crying into her palms and never coming back up again. She stays still. She doesn’t look away from him.

“You were the one coming here,” he whispers. “Pretending we are no more than two normal people.”

She smiles. Feels her heart break. “Yeah. Because still, after seven years of you doing everything in your power to make me feel like shit – I still like you. I like you way too much.”

He exhales. He steps closer again. It’s more hesitant this time. Anger turns to desperate tears, and she wipes them away, averting her gaze when he comes to a halt in front of her. A hand on her cheek leads her back to meet his gaze. Everything is off-key and makes her shiver, everything is so fucking shitty she wants to scream, and yet she can’t escape the way Adrien looks at her.

“I fell in love with you when I first saw you,” he tells her quietly, reverently. “And I never stopped falling for you.”

She stares. Laughs quietly, shakes her head. “What?”

His smile is unsure and breaks apart in a matter of seconds. “You really need me to repeat it?”

“You –”

“But I knew you would never agree. Plagg told me about the consequences of the wish. I knew you would never say yes.” He laughs, leans his forehead against hers. She closes her eyes and lets him. “Plagg called me a stupid idiot so often. And he’s right. I am. I am a stupid idiot. To be honest, I’m pretty glad you started hating me. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.” His voice lowers, becomes small and almost soundless. “I don’t know what to do now.”

The silent plea is so apparent as she shivers. “I can’t help you,” she murmurs. “I can’t help you decide.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I … That I can’t …”

He kisses her. Desperately, longingly, pressing her closer and closer. She wants to cry, wants to get lost in him. She kisses him back, longer, longer, until she grabs his shoulders and pushes him away. Her lips burn, her eyes sting, and she holds his gaze.

“I have to go,” she whispers.

“I know,” he says.

She steps back. Lightning illuminates the sky, the room, and she slips away from his arms. Feels his eyes on her back, feels like she has to run fast and faster. It only occurs to her when she is about to open his door, and she would have surely forgotten if it wasn’t for his quiet reminder.

“You don’t have an umbrella with you, do you?”

She looks over her shoulder. She feels coldness flow over her skin. “No, I don’t,” she says.

He smiles softly. He nods at the umbrella stand next to his jackets. There’s only one umbrella left. The Agreste brand’s logo is engraved in gold on the handle, and she stares at it for so long that her eyes start burning yet again.

“Take it,” he says.

“It’s your last one left.”

“I can get plenty of stupid umbrellas. Take it.”

She wants to cry. She wordlessly takes the umbrella. It’s black, and it weighs heavily in her hand. For a moment, their eyes meet. For a moment, she almost manages to smile.

Then she turns around, opens the door, and leaves.

Not even the umbrella helped.

When she arrives at home, she is soaked from head to toe. She wipes raindrops from her cheeks, blinks them from her eyes. She realizes the lights are still on, and when she glances into the living room, Alya stares back at her, eyebrows raised.

“Girl. I have no idea why you don’t want to sleep at that guy’s place, but you seriously need a good shower.”

Marinette smiles. “Can I have a towel?” Her voice cracks so miserably even she winces at the sound, and Alya’s eyes fill with worry.

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

Marinette breathes. Slips out of her shoes, enters the living room. The TV is still on, the series Alya is watching paused. It only takes some seconds until Alya reappears, draping a towel over Marinette’s shoulders. Marinette keeps smiling. It hurts so much, too much, and they both sink down on the couch, and she grabs Alya’s hands.

“I’m sleeping with Adrien,” she whispers.

Alya squeezes her hand. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, but you weren’t very subtle about it.” She frees one of her hands, softly strokes Marinette’s cheek. “You’re crying, though. And I don’t like that.”

She doesn’t know how to explain. She doesn’t know how to put everything she feels into words. Her body shivers, and she urges her numb lips to move. “He’d have to choose between me and … and someone else, and I don’t think I will be his first choice.”

Alya stays silent for a long moment. “He is two-timing you?” she eventually whispers, her tone dangerously calm.

“No. No …” She takes a deep breath. “No. It’s more complicated.”

“More complicated? How –”

“I can’t tell you any more than that. I’m so sorry, Al.” Her voice breaks at last. She holds on to Alya’s hand harder. “But I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore. I think I’m falling for him, and it hurts too much to know that I won’t be his first choice, that I won’t … Alya, I can’t do this.”

“Oh, honey,” Alya mumbles, freeing her second hand to eventually wrap her arms around Marinette, pulling her close. Marinette’s wet hair dampens Alya’s clothes, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “I want to kick this pretty boy’s ass. Hard. What is he doing to you? You two should be falling in love wholesomely. That’s what Nino and I thought was happening.”

“I wish we could,” Marinette whispers, and then she starts crying in earnest.

Alya starts rocking her gently. Mumbling to her that it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay. That they are going to punch Adrien in the face. Or kick his balls. Or just strangle him. It’s going to be okay. Or he will be smart enough to choose Marinette, and no one else. It’s okay. Really, it’s going to be just fine.

Marinette wishes she could believe Alya’s words. But they sound too pretty, too promising, and outside, rain keeps falling against their window.

Chapter Text

She doesn’t read his texts. She doesn’t want to see him. She doesn’t want to be reminded of him. She wishes she could just banish him from her mind forever. Forget she ever liked him in the first place. Forget about the kisses and evenings they shared.

But she can’t. Because the storm has long since passed when she is confronted with yet another akuma. Because it’s no wonder a figure clad in black watches her carefully as she approaches the scene, wind in her hair, yo-yo latching onto buildings before she lands in safe distance. The villain sits in the middle of the plaza, a throne of thorny vines keeping her above ground. Like a queen watching common people to her feet, she lifts her chin, giving Ladybug a smile.

“Well, well, what do we have here. A nasty little bug.”

“Wow, how very creative,” Ladybug mumbles. Vines crack open asphalt, rise from the ground, seems to move towards her. They’re faster than Ladybug expected, and she quickly dodges, never leaving the villain out of her sight.

And Chat Noir too, for that matter. But all he does is lean against the thorny throne, returning her look somberly.

People keep being caught between new sprouts, crying for help as they are held in place. Vines follow her movements. Ladybug swings up to a nearby building, trying to surmise where the akuma could hide. The villain is wearing a black dress adorned by weird spikes, black hair cascading over her shoulders. Legs crossed, chin held high, but nothing too unusual about her. Except for …

Well, Ladybug supposes people normally don’t run around with diadems on their heads. Unless they pretend to be scary villains, that is.

“Aw, are you running, Ladybug?” The villain cackles loudly. “Running from me, your Thorny Queen? What a shame.”

“Thorny, huh,” Chat Noir drawls. “Just one letter away from making a severe mistake, I see.”

A long second of silence. “What is that supposed to mean, pussy cat? Go and get her, and don’t try to use your useless mouth!”

“Wow, it’s getting even worse.”

Ladybug swallows down a laugh, and she watches as Chat sluggishly rolls his eyes, eventually expanding his baton. Vines are still chasing her as Ladybug lands on another rooftop. She doesn’t even try to run from Chat. He lands with unfair gracefulness, swirls the baton between his fingers, eventually swinging it over his shoulders. Watching her.

“Being a good kitten, pussy cat?” she teases him.

“For you?” he purrs. “Always.”

She doesn’t let herself think further. Right now, they are enemies. No more than that. It’s far easier to block out her memories when he attacks her with his baton, when she can duck underneath the swing. Behind her, vines are growing, attempting to wrap around her ankle. She dodges easily, can feel her body fall into the rhythm of a fight she is used to.

It’s almost starting to feel all right again.

“It’s her diadem, isn’t it?” she brings out between two punches he dodges, and Chat grins at her.

“You’d like to know, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t a question. More of an observation.” Her next kick brings her so close to him that she can grab his bell and pull him closer. It seems to be a move he didn’t expect, and he stumbles towards her, face falling for a second. “Tell your owner he’s lacking creativity. Poor guy is probably getting tired of himself.”

“He’s not my owner,” Chat replies drily.

“Right.” She lets go of him again, sends him backwards with a kick to his stomach. Chat coughs as he doubles over. “Because you sure seem to make your own decisions. If you can’t obey Hawk Moth, you’ll obey your Thorny Queen.”

Something flashes through his eyes. Something dangerous and dark. Ladybug regrets her words for a moment. But then it’s too late already, and the next attack hits her in full force before she can react, his baton crashing against her ribs. Pain shoots through every single fiber, makes her vision go dark for a moment as she feels herself fall to the ground.

Once upon a time, it would have felt right. Because that’s just what they did. Hurt each other over and over again. Keep quiet about the pain. Clench their teeth and move on.

So she does. Her suit protects her from damages, and she climbs to her feet, sharply turning back to him. Something about his expression is off, is filled with momentary regret, and he seems to bury the emotion quickly again, leaving nothing but a sneer on his face.

“You think I’d follow any of their commands if I didn’t want to? Aw, bug. And calling me naïve.”

“Yeah.” She lets her tongue wander over her teeth, but tastes no blood. “You sure seem to enjoy hurting me.”

He hesitates. She takes the opportunity, aims her yo-yo, and swings away. Pain still pulsates in her ribs, but it’s manageable. Instead of paying any attention to it, she summons her Lucky Charm midair.

A hammer.

Well, that’s straightforward. When she tries to approach Thorny Queen, vines shoot into the air left and right. The villain watches her curiously, especially when Ladybug raises the hammer and swings at one of the vines. It doesn’t do much, so … Pretty useless, all in all. Before the vine can wrap around her, Ladybug dodges again, frowning at the hammer in her hands. What the hell is she supposed to do then? Maybe –

She hears the sizzling of air, and her instincts scream at her to duck before Chat’s baton can connect with her ribs once again. His voice follows her as she jumps away from danger.

“Running away again, little bug? You’re really great at that, aren’t you?”

She ignores his undertone. Her eyes search for a safe space, somewhere she could think about what to do with that Lucky Charm of hers calmly and thoroughly, and she –

A beep.

A fucking beep.

Oh god.

Chat stares at her. She stares back. Her hand automatically flies to her earring. Not now. Not fucking now. She steps back, and Chat steps towards her, and –

She was getting careless. Chat’s green glowing eyes didn’t let go of her, and they don’t do now as a vine catches her foot, makes her stumble and fall to the ground. She gives a hard breath, pulls her foot out of the trap. Attempts to jump to her feet again. But before she can, something touches her wrist. She yanks her hand away, scrambles to her feet. Another beep rings in her ears. Desperation takes hold of her as she takes a step, only to be held up by another vine wrapping around her leg.

It’s only now that she realizes she is surrounded by them. Vine after vine having pushed through concrete, moving towards her. She attempts to free herself, but something holds her back by her arm, by her other leg, and she soon realizes that she can’t move anymore.

At all.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Thorny Queen calls from her throne, tilting her head. “Seems like I got lucky. A little ladybug landed in my trap.”

Ladybug’s throat feels too tight. She feverishly searches for a way out. The hammer is still in her hand, but her fingers are getting weak as the vines squeeze her arms. It’s not the first time she seems to be in a hopeless situation. It’s not the first time she wants to cry out of frustration and fear. She always got through. She always did.

“Now, pussy cat,” the villain commands. “Take her earrings.”

Coldness grips her heart. She looks at Chat, and Chat looks at her. There’s something too nonchalant to his expression. His face is blank, and motionless, and before she can hold it back, the word slips from her lips.

“Don’t.”

His cat ears twitch. He stalks closer. Light, careless steps. He takes his time, and for a moment, she thinks it’s just another way to taunt her. To make her feel small and helpless.

But then, she notices how quickly his eyes scan the vines she is trapped in. As if thinking of a solution just as hard as she is.

Yeah. Like hell he is.

She tries moving, but her body is rendered motionless. She can’t even move her Lucky Charm. Her earrings give another beep, and she bites her tongue and tries to thrash out, but it’s no use. She can’t believe this is happening. Caught and defeated by a simple akumatized villain, someone she should have been able to defeat easily.

Chat Noir comes to a halt in front of her. She feels tears in her eyes. In their position, Chat shields her from the villain’s looks. She can’t talk. Can’t do anything but watch as he lifts a hand, claws grazing her cheek.

“You’ll detransform pretty soon,” he tells her quietly.

“Yeah.” Her laugh is dry. “Wanna rub it in some more?”

His fingers arrive at her earlobe. She closes her eyes. Hopes to god it will be all right. That Adrien will make his wish, and that it will be over. It somehow feels deliberating to not have to make any choice. Maybe she understands Adrien now. Maybe she really does.

The warmth of his fingers leaves her.

At least it’s over now. At least –

“Cataclysm,” he says, and it only takes seconds until vines crumble into dust around them, rain down on them in flakes of nothingness. Ladybug can’t even think about what is happening. Her body is so weak that she almost collapses as soon as she is freed, but Chat catches her and picks her up in one quick motion. The Lucky Charm lands on the floor with a loud thud, but as soon as she detransforms, it will vanish anyway.

“What the hell are you doing?” Thorny Queen’s shrill voice sounds behind them. “What the – Chat Noir. Chat Noir, don’t you dare turn your back on me. Chat Noir!” Her voice turns darker, deeper, and Ladybug soon realizes who is really talking to them. “Chat Noir – if you walk away now, you have made your choice! You know which consequences will follow. You know!”

“That’s what he always tries to do,” Chat mumbles to her, rolling his eyes as if it really means nothing to him. “Bla bla, I will seriously ground you. Right. As if that scares me.”

Ladybug feels like she is having a fever dream. One she doesn’t really want to wake up from. She lets herself be carried away, Hawk Moth’s angry words following them, vines sprouting from the ground as they try to catch them. But Chat Noir is agile enough to dodge every single one of them with ease. Further and further away, until they aren’t a threat anymore.

Her earrings beep again, and again, and eventually, he has carried her to an abandoned alley. She detransforms in his arms, and Tikki floats into her open palms, and when Chat Noir wants to let her sink to her own feet, she digs her fingers into his arm and looks up at him.

“What did you do?” she whispers.

His smile is unsure and wavering. “Guess I made my choice.”

Her breaths are too hard. Her head is spinning. She lets go of him again, clumsily searches for a macaron in her handbag. Tikki is closing her eyes, head dipped down, body swaying. Carefully, Marinette hands her the macaron.

“Look. I will go back there. Stall the villain until you return.” Chat lets her slide from his arms after all, holding her up by the arm when she is standing on her own feet again. “I’m pretty sure you already know where to look for, right?”

“The diadem,” Marinette mumbles.

“Smart girl.” He grins at her. “So, get your kwami ready.” With that, he wants to glide from her proximity.

She grabs his arm though. Pulls him back. Stares into his eyes, her mind becoming a mess.

“You betrayed him. Chat, you betrayed him, and you let him see all of it. Do you know what that means? Do you seriously know what that means?”

A crack in his façade. His smile almost falls. He touches her face, and she feels like she is breaking apart on the spot. “It means that I saved you, at least.”

She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to say it. What he gave up just now. What such a tiny moment did. It hurts too much. It shouldn’t hurt so much. It shouldn’t.

“Marinette,” Tikki whispers from her palm. “Are you ready?”

Chat winks at her and moves away, and the feeling of his fingertips against her cheek lingers on and on.

In rare moments, they fought not against each other, but side by side. But it never felt like this.

Ladybug knows him like the back of her hand. She knows his fluid movements, knows about his agility. She knows his looks, knows what he wants to tell her without having to hear a word. It’s easy to dodge vine after vine. It’s too easy to come closer to the villain, bit by bit. A mask of violet light stretches over Thorny Queen’s face, and her voice is still too deep to be her own.

“Did she mess with your head for good, Chat Noir? What did she promise you? Did she promise you the wish?”

Ladybug glances at Chat Noir. He glances back, the slightest of smiles on his face. Reassuring her. Soothing her. Her Lucky Charm this time is a little toy mouse. She would love to laugh about it, but her heart still weighs too heavy and her hands shake too much.

“Or was it your vision of perfect love? Is that what drove you to betray me?” The villain laughs so loudly it makes Ladybug’s skin crawl. “Love! I always knew you were useless. No more than a pawn I could sacrifice sooner or later. You’d rather sink into a worthless woman’s arms than saving your own mother? That’s what your devotion is worth?”

“Call her worthless one more time,” Chat spits back, “and I will break your bones.”

Ladybug flinches. Fights off a vine that threatens to wrap around her ankle. In the process, her back meets Chat Noir’s. She reaches for his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. Just a second. Just something comforting.

“I’d like to see you try, pussy cat.” Thorny Queen’s voice returns, shrill and demanding. “Now give me both you Miraculouses, you useless subordinates!”

They fight as if they’ve always belonged together. Moving in sync as she slips through vines, as he pushes away whatever stands in her way. The only goal is the villain having stood up from her throne. The only goal is punching her in the face so hard Hawk Moth can’t help but feel the impact himself.

And when Ladybug is close enough, she lunges out and throws the toy mouse right into the villain’s face.

With a little squeak, the toy bounces off. Thorny Queen stares at her for several seconds. “What –” she starts before she is interrupted by the swing of a baton above her head, the diadem smashing against the ground and cracking into two pieces. Ladybug smiles sweetly.

“Hey, Hawk Moth? I’ve got a message for you.” She snorts. “Seriously. Fuck off, you manipulative piece of shit.”

The villain just laughs. Laughs and laughs before she is detransformed, slumping to the ground, vines shrinking and vanishing until nothing is left anymore. Nothing but the butterfly being purified and flapping its wings towards the sky. Nothing but the Lucky Charm restoring any damage Hawk Moth caused.

And at the end, Chat Noir is watching her from a slight distance, tilting his head at her.

She feels her heart beat faster. She takes a wobbly step towards him. Leaning against his baton, he waits for her. She bites her lip, but her smile can’t be smothered, and she steps closer and closer, needs to –

“Ladybug! Ladybug, is it true? Did Chat Noir, your enemy for years, help you out in this fight?”

A microphone is pushed right in front of her face. Ladybug stumbles back, blinking several times. “I – um, I mean –”

“How is this possible?” Another reporter stares at her, brows drawn together. “Wasn’t he responsible for several akumatizations?”

“Maybe,” Ladybug drawls, craning her neck to catch sight of Chat again. “Excuse me, I …”

Another question is thrown at her. Another one. Another one. And Ladybug has enough. She fights her way out of the mass of reporters, swings her yo-yo. Cameras pan with her movements, people stare at her, and from the rooftop she lands on, she looks for a black leather suit.

He is nowhere to be found.

She frowns and turns way.

[Marinette]: Where are you?

[Marinette]: Please say you’re safe.

[Marinette]: You can crash at mine. I don’t mind. Alya wouldn’t either.

[Marinette]: Please crash at mine*.

[Marinette]: Please?

[Adrien]: I’m fine. But cute of you to care that much.

[Marinette]: … of course I do.

[Adrien]: Don’t worry. Nothing’s gonna happen. Not until tomorrow.

[Adrien]: With you-know-who.

She stares at the phone. He isn’t typing. Her thumbs twitch. Three little dots appear onscreen. In front of her, the lecture goes on and on, drags like a piece of tasteless gum. She doesn’t care. She can’t concentrate on anything.

[Adrien]: Come over?

She puffs out a breath, packs her things, and runs out of the lecture hall in the middle of the professor’s talking.

[Marinette]: I’m on my way

[Marinette]: Don’t go anywhere

[Marinette]: DON’T go anywhere I swear to god

[Adrien]: I won’t. I promise.

It’s late afternoon when she arrives at his apartment building. She only has to ring once before she is let in. The elevator doesn’t arrive quickly enough, so she takes the stairs, and when she finally arrives at his floor, her legs ache and her heart is racing. He is standing in the doorframe, arms crossed, shoulder leaned against the wall, and everything inside her tumbles and bursts when she sees his tender expression, the way his eyes crinkle with his tiny smile.

“Hello, beautiful. You look out of breath, don’t you?”

She wants to laugh, but it gets stuck in her throat. And instead, she runs towards him. Doesn’t hesitate to throw herself into his arms. With a surprised sound, he catches her. They tumble into his apartment, and she crosses her legs behind his back, and then she grabs his face and kisses him. Kisses him and kisses him with all the fear and desperation and gratefulness she feels, hearing him laugh under her ministrations as he grabs her butt and pushes her up.

“Someone’s being eager,” he mumbles.

“I am,” she whispers back. Keeps kissing him as he closes the door behind them. “You taste so good. I can’t get enough of you. Chat, please, I need to kiss you, I –”

He pushes her against the nearest wall, kissing her back with a fire that makes her toes curl. She moans into his mouth, paws at his arms and presses him closer, wants all of him, wants him so badly, and she mewls helplessly when he kisses her cheek, her neck, hands feverishly feeling for the shape of her ass and the small of her back and slipping underneath her shirt and god –

“What did you tell me?” he mumbles against her skin. “We could celebrate every victory with …?”

“Yes, Adrien, yes,” she groans, tugging at his hair until she can lock their lips again. “Let’s. Every time. Let’s kiss and fuck and drink champagne and I don’t care. I just want to be yours. It’s all I want.”

He moans her name, kisses her back. Carries her to the living room, her mouth all over him, spreading kisses over his face, frantic hands running through his hair and messing it up and making him hers, he needs to be hers, he needs to be hers so badly and she bites his neck so hard he gives a pained sound, stumbling until her back crashes into another wall.

“Ladybug, fuck –”

“More,” she hisses. “Moan some more for me, my kitten.”

He almost whines, hips grinding against her so hard she throws her head back, and she helps him undress her. Hastily, carelessly, before his hands perfectly cup her breasts, groping and massaging and she kisses him again, tells him to take her to the bedroom, tells him to sink into her and fuck her and make love to her and do whatever he wants to her, tells him she is all his all his forever his, and he groans and claws at her and stumbles on with her in his arms until he can press her into his mattress. He is panting and flushed, so gorgeous she can’t take her eyes away from him, a piece of art unraveling just for her.

The sheets smell of him. She is surrounded by him. She can’t get enough. She pulls at his shirt until he peels it over his head, and she lifts her hips to get off her skirt. She needs his heated skin rubbing against hers, needs his lips to kiss her into wild ecstasy, needs to show him what he means to her. Restless hands find his belt, and his laugh sounds pressed and strained.

“You’ve never been that impatient.”

“I never needed you so much,” she returns. “I never – Chat, you …”

He slips out of his jeans, of his boxer briefs. Her chest is heaving. He softly pulls her panties over her thighs, smiles at her in a way he never did before.

“You chose me,” she whispers. “You did. You chose me.”

His smile stays in place. He kisses her knee. Lifts her leg to kiss a path down her calf, to her ankle.

“You’re mine.” She stretches out her arms for him. He obeys, sinks down until his lips ghost over hers. “And I’m yours. Entirely yours.”

He kisses her. “Say that again,” he mumbles.

“I’m yours.”

His fingers reach for hers. He interlaces them, presses her hand into the mattress. The other one reaches between them, lets a finger run through her wetness. She shivers, and moans, and closes her eyes as he draws a soft circle over her clit.

“I’m yours,” she repeats breathlessly. “Adrien, I …”

It doesn’t take much longer until he enters her. She gasps at the feeling, presses her fingers against his knuckles. Deeper, deeper, and he stills inside her, his hard breaths above her, his hand squeezing hers as her unoccupied fingers search for purchase, finding it on the arm propping him up. She looks at his face. At the expression he grants her, full of tiny things she never let herself acknowledge before.

“Good?” he asks quietly.

She can hardly speak. She locks her feet behind his butt, tries to get him even deeper. Whimpering at the feeling of him inside her, him around her, him everywhere.

“Kiss me,” she pleads.

He leans down to her. Brushes his lips over hers. Tears threaten to escape her, and she arches her back to get more of him, and he softly increases the pressure. Squeezes her hand again, harder this time. His lips wander down to her ear, kiss her skin tenderly.

“I want you too, Marinette,” he breathes. “I want you so much.”

He starts moving his hips. Slowly, staying so deep inside her she trembles from head to toe. She moans, her hand wandering to his shoulder, to his back, holding on to him as sensations overwhelm her, as she feels herself break already, taking away her last bits of inhibitions.

“You’re so good,” she sobs, and whines, and cries. “So good, so – fuck, Adrien, the way you make me feel, I’ve never – how do you – shit, I’m already, you’re already making me … Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh god –”

He stops her babbling by kissing her, every sound of pleasure getting lost in the soft caress as he keeps his torturously slow pace. And yet she comes with a cry, comes until tears spring into her eyes, her free hand desperately clawing at his back to get him closer and closer, hearing him groan and feeling his hand tremble slightly, getting her into a high that lasts and lasts until she almost can’t breathe anymore, until it’s all she feels. Only him. Only ever him.

Even when she falls, he is here to catch her. Again, and again, and again.

Everything is quiet and calm. Her heart is beating steadily. She keeps kissing his shoulder, tiny innocent pecks. A smile spreads over her face when he lets a hand wander through her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You smell so good,” she mumbles, craning her neck until she can peck his lips. “Mm, I really can’t get enough of you.”

He laughs, his arm around her waist pulling her closer. “If I had known what a cute thing you can be … You’re almost making me blush.”

“I like making you blush,” she purrs, scrambling further up until she can cup his cheek and lead him to face her. His lips are swollen, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion, and she loves it. She loves it so goddamn much she has to grin. “I like seeing you like this, all sweaty and messy after fucking me.”

“And you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her. “See. Always told you you’re hiding something behind that proper exterior of yours.”

She pecks his lips. Trails a fingertip down his chest. Sighs before letting her cheek sink against his warm skin. “We’ll have to talk about the heavy stuff. Sooner or later.”

He hums.

“Hawk Moth will come after you.”

“Yeah.” Adrien looks at the ceiling, his fingers brushing through her hair. “He isn’t too happy with me. But that’s something we can tackle tomorrow.”

“Sure he isn’t going to turn up sooner?”

“Very sure.” Adrien shifts a bit. “I know a thing or two about his schedule, you know. Having been his useless pawn for such a long time …”

Hawk Moth’s voice still echoes in Marinette’s ears. The movement of her finger stops. “He’s a bastard. A fucking piece of shit.”

“Hey,” Adrien mumbles, brushing his nose through her hair. “No need to get angry. Not for my sake.”

“I will punch him in the face.”

“I want to see that.”

“Oh, you will.”

He laughs. She grins and runs her palm over his skin.

“I won’t ask you why you chose me,” she whispers, snuggling against his side. “But I will say that it’s the one thing I wished would happen for years. That you could let me see behind that smug mask you liked to show me. I knew there was someone precious hiding behind it. I knew.”

“Did you? Or are those just very pretty words?”

She lifts her head. “You should know by now that I don’t take simple words lightly.” She sits up, drags her leg over his hips until she is straddling his lap. Biting her lip, she leans forward, the tip of her nose brushing his. He closes his eyes, and she feels his hands wander over her hips slowly. “Is there some way to convince you of how much I care for you, Mr. Agreste?”

His eyes open. He holds her gaze. “Tell me what you feel for me,” he whispers, tiny vulnerable things tumbling through the space between them.

She feels her heart drop until it picks up speed. She feels her hands get clammy as she softly touches his face. Her thumb grazes his lower lip, and he shivers and sighs.

“I fell for you when we were sixteen,” she breathes. “When we sat side by side on the Eiffel Tower. When you looked so sad and lost in this world, and when I thought to myself that the only thing I wanted to do was to help you. I fell for you back then, and I never stopped falling for you.”

Wordlessly, he looks at her. Wordlessly, a lovely smile grazes his lips. Wordlessly, he grasps her face, pulls her towards him, and kisses her.

When Marinette wakes up, her bed smells different than it normally does. It takes her some time to remember what happened last night, and why her whole body aches and feels sated at the same time, and it takes her a few more seconds to flutter her eyelids open. She is met by brightly green irises, by a smile that makes her melt in an instant. She blinks, yawns, and snuggles up to Adrien with a satisfied smile.

“What a way to wake up.”

“Morning to you too, gorgeous,” he mumbles, lips pressed against the crown of her head. “Slept well?”

“With you next to me? Perfectly,” she purrs.

A little laugh vibrates in his lungs. “God, you’re too cute for your own good.”

“And you love it.”

“I do.” He drapes an arm over her waist. Softly strokes the small of her back. “I really do.”

She could fall asleep like this again, tangled up in his sheets and his scent all around her. Still, she has lectures to attend and assignments to finish, ones she all neglected yesterday, and she gives a deep sigh.

“We gotta get up from bed.”

“Do we? Really?”

“Yeah,” she grumbles, pressing herself closer to him. “Coffee. Breakfast. Getting ready and all that stuff.”

“Shower.” He kisses her cheek. “Together.”

“Mm. Shower sex.”

“When did I ever talk about sex? I just want us to shower together.”

“Mm-hmm. And use a lot of shower gel.” She rubs her palm over his chest. “Be very, very thorough.” Her hand dips lower, grazes his hip bones, squeezes his ass. He snorts, his hand coming to rest between her shoulder blades. “And maybe even … Oh?”

“Oh, what?” he mumbles breathlessly, hissing when she gives his twitching member a little pump.

“Giving special attention to certain areas.” She shifts away a bit to watch his face, finding him with his eyes closed already. “You know, just making sure everything is clean and nice for a hard day ahead.”

“Breakfast first,” he suggests, “shower later?”

“In favor,” she giggles, and starts sliding further down his body.

It takes half an hour until both of them had their very nutritious breakfast, and another half an hour until they’re finally finished showering and cleaning each other thoroughly, and her legs are wobbly and her muscles are protesting as she lets herself be handed a cup of coffee. It’s ten in the morning, and her first lecture will start at eleven. As she takes a sip, Adrien watches her, a warm smile on his face.

“I hope you know that I won’t let you face Hawk Moth alone,” she says soberly.

His smile softens even more. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” She watches him over the cup’s rim, leaned against the kitchen island. “What’s our plan?”

“We go to our lectures. He’ll probably storm my apartment in the afternoon.” He shrugs. “And then, here we are.”

“We punch him in the face and defeat him?”

“Sure.”

“Sounds almost too easy.”

He tilts his head. Props it on his hand. “I’m pretty sure a girl like you can do anything she sets her mind on.”

Marinette stares at him. Slowly lets her cup sink down. “Something is weird about you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so agreeable. It’s weird.”

He keeps looking at her. For a moment, goosebumps rise on her skin. For a moment, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispers something to her. She listens, but can’t make out the words, and every doubt is pushed away at last when Adrien steps closer to her, hooking a finger into her skirt’s waistband. Pulling her a little closer, close enough to kiss her.

“Don’t need to fight you anymore, do I?” he mumbles. “I can be all yours.”

“If you want to be,” she returns, her forehead leaned against his.

“I want to.” He lets a hand rest on the back of her head. “And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, brushing her nose against his. “I am.”

He kisses her doubts away, kisses hopeless nights from her memories, kisses tearful wishes from her lips, and at the end, she is still in his arms, sinking into his soft warmth. Smiling, she leans back and strokes his cheek.

“You taste like coffee,” she says.

His eyes crinkle when he laughs. “Wow. My lady, your perceptions are most awe-inspiring.”

“Thank you. I’m putting a lot of effort into them.”

“Noticeably.”

“You’re being cheeky. I don’t appreciate it.”

“No, no, you like it.” With a smug grin, he pinches her ass. She squeaks, and with a laugh, she hits his arm. “See. Can’t hide that sparkle in your eyes, love bug.”

“You’re bad news, aren’t you?” She grabs his collar and pulls him towards her lips, kissing him again. “Such bad news.”

“Mm-hmm. Maybe I am.”

Maybe he is. But she doesn’t care anymore. They kiss for too long, and she curses when she takes a look at the clock. Standing in the door, he watches her put on her shoes. His expression is somehow unfamiliar. Soft and almost sad, and it makes something in her chest clench, and her laugh sounds unsure even in her own ears.

“Already missing me, kitten?”

“Yeah. I am.”

She can’t stop the smile on her lips. “You’re sappier than I thought,” she says as she approaches him again, giving his lips the lightest peck. “No worries. Not gonna go anywhere.”

He returns her smile. Brushes strands from her face and tucks them behind her ear. “Right,” he whispers. “That’s good.”

She kisses him one last time. Doesn’t let go of his hand as she takes a step back, giving it a last reassuring squeeze. “We’re gonna get through this, okay?” she tells him. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you later.”

He is still smiling. It almost seems painful. “Have a nice day, Marinette.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Their hands part. He looks after her as she climbs down the stairs, and she waves at him. Something about him makes her restless, but she can’t say what it is. So she pushes it aside.

There’s nothing to worry about. He had all night to steal her earrings and redeem himself in Hawk Moth’s eyes, but he didn’t. He had all night to push her away again, but he opened up like he never did before.

He opened up like he never did before.

She wrinkles her forehead and leaves his apartment building.

In the afternoon, she texts him. She sees that he was online hours ago, approximately when she left his apartment. Something starts to bloom in her chest, a nervousness she doesn’t know what to do with, and she keeps swaying her pen up and down.

He shouldn’t be anywhere else but at home, though. Nothing else would have made sense.

She gulps down her worries and tries to concentrate on the lecture.

It’s seven in the afternoon when she leaves the uni building. The sun is shining down on her. She finds a nearby alley, hiding in its shadows as she opens her handbag. Tikki blinks at her out of big blue eyes.

“I’m pretty sure this won’t be our last encounter with Hawk Moth,” she mumbles, crouching on the ground. “He wouldn’t be dumb enough to waltz into Adrien’s apartment without expecting any kind of resistance, after all.”

Tikki frowns. “Is this why you are so restless?”

“You noticed, huh?” Marinette gives a strained laugh. “Maybe it really is.”

It probably is.

She transforms. Swings over rooftops. The afternoon sun accompanies her. The sight of his apartment building is already familiar. Glistening white in sunlight. His balcony is her destination, and she lands on it with a quiet thud. He has to expect her already, so she steps towards the balcony’s door without hesitation, hand already stretched out to –

“Hey there, Pigtails. Gonna be straight with you: better get out of here right away, or you risk Hawk Moth turning up here and strangling you on the spot, y’know.”

Ladybug freezes. Slowly turns her head. A black cat kwami hovers in the air, green expressionless eyes watching her. She stares at him. Tries to utter one single word.

“Plagg,” is the only thing that will escape her.

“Ah, yes, you know my name. How very reassuring.” He floats to the balcony’s table, gesturing at what is lying there. An envelope. Ladybug stares at it, her lungs suddenly constricting, her hands shaking, her mind swirling. She doesn’t let herself think further. She doesn’t let herself think. She doesn’t.

Because on the envelope rests a ring, silver and inconspicuous.

She snaps out of it. Focuses on the task at hand. “He wasn’t here already?” she asks, voice void of any emotion as she snatches up the ring and the envelope.

“Nope. What I said. So you better hurry up.”

Ladybug turns her head back to the balcony door.

“Don’t you dare think about it,” Plagg hisses. “Believe me when I say ya don’t stand a chance. You think Chat Noir wouldn’t have liked to punch his face a few times himself?”

She whirls her head back around to him. “Adrien –”

“Later, sweetheart.”

She gulps down the desperation threatening to arise. Instead she nods, aims her yo-yo, and swings away.

She detransforms close to her apartment. Her hands are shaking. Her fingers cramp into the envelope. It’s white and ordinary. No name, nothing. She clenches her fingers around the ring, feels the metal press into her palm. She is icily cold. She somehow wants to cry.

A look at her phone tells her that Adrien didn’t text her back yet.

As Marinette approaches her apartment building, she calls him. He doesn’t pick up. As she climbs the stairs, she calls him. He doesn’t pick up. As she opens the door to her apartment, she calls him. He doesn’t –

She wants to scream. She stays silent. Alya must still be at uni, and she is glad. Quickly, she slips into her room, tosses the ring on her bed carelessly. Sinks into her chair. Stares at the envelope. Her fingers are still shaking. She feels like she’ll throw up any second now.

“Look, sweetheart. Can stare at that envelope forever, or you –”

“Plagg,” Tikki hisses. “I’m very glad to have you here again, but you still understand nothing about humans, do you?”

He gives a clicking sound. “Well, Sugarcube. Got to learn over the last few years that they love running away from the truth, at least.”

Marinette closes her eyes for a second. Then she opens the envelope. She pulls out a single piece of paper. Her fingers are still shaking too hard. She opens it, and she starts reading.

Hi, Marinette. If you’re reading this letter, I guess I’ll be gone already.

I’m going to be straight with you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you, and I’m sorry that I was an asshole about it and didn’t say a word. But that’s just me, huh? Chat Noir, the asshole.

I didn’t start out this way. I don’t think I did. I was just a kid when Hawk Moth found the ring before I could. Plagg told me this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He told me repeatedly over years that I’m supposed to be your partner. Your equal. On your side.

It would have been easy if it wasn’t for my mother.

I had to choose between you two. Constantly. Even when I fell for you, I had to choose between you. And when I found out who you really are, my little bug – there was no way to keep stalling.

Despite what you think, I didn’t choose you. I’m sorry. For once, I had to choose myself.

I feel like shit writing this. I feel like shit realizing that I left not only you behind, but also my mother. You’re right. It has always been about me. Saving her has been about me. Fighting you has been about me. I did shitty things, and now I have to make it right.

Marinette, I love you. But I can’t be with you. Not after everything that happened. Not after I let Hawk Moth make all decisions for me, year after year. You’re right. It was easy. And I can’t let the same happen with you, now can I? I can’t just leave all responsibility to you. I can’t just start hating you because you refuse to save my mother. I can’t just feel constantly torn as I’m fighting by your side.

You get it, right? You do. You have to. You always understood me best, even when we were no more than sworn enemies.

I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry. But I’m sure that you can beat Hawk Moth’s ass any time of the day. Because that’s the girl I fell in love with. Too stubborn for her own good, and looking so goddamn beautiful while being a badass. Right?

- Forever yours, Adrien

P.S. As a parting gift, I will let you in on a little secret of mine.

I know Hawk Moth’s identity. I have known for seven years, in fact. He’s pretty well-known. Bet you heard of him too.

His name is Gabriel Agreste.

She lets the letter sink down. It’s quiet and lonely in here. Outside, the sun is still shining brightly. Her eyes burn as she leads them to the floor, as she notices the dry umbrella leaned against the wall. She attempts to smile, but she can’t.

“Plagg,” she croaks. “Where did he go?”

The kwami looks at her solemnly. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“Plagg,” she repeats. “Where did he go?”

“Marinette,” Tikki whispers softly.

“Where did he go?” She jumps to her feet. The letter crumbles in her hand. “As the Guardian, I order you to tell me. Where the fuck did he go?”

“Pigtails, know you’re upset,” Plagg says slowly. “But if you think that decision was easy for him –”

“Where did he go?” she screams, tossing the letter to the floor. “Where would he – why would he –” She crumbles into pieces, her mind blank, her hands everywhere, wiping sweat from her forehead and feeling for the tears on her cheeks and she stares out of the window and smashes the umbrella to the floor. “Where would he go? Fuck, Plagg, where would he go?”

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Plagg doesn’t avoid her stare. She feels her jaw quiver. She feels her body give up. She feels the tears escape the corners of her eyes, and she glances at the crumbled letter on the floor. A snarl on her lips, and she storms to her laptop, opens it up.

“Marinette,” Tikki whispers. “What are you doing?”

“Gabriel Agreste,” she says slowly. “Gabriel fucking Agreste. I will catch this son of a bitch. And if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Well, Pigtails, count me in,” Plagg drawls, landing on her shoulder. “I counted the times I wanted to kick that bastard’s butt. Approximately four thousand and forty-five times over the last seven years, that is.”

“Great,” she hisses. “And we’ll make that wish a reality.”

Marinette didn’t even notice the knock on her door. She only looks up when Alya gives a sound, and their eyes meet. Slowly, Alya’s hand slips from the doorhandle.

“Marinette …” She steps into the room, lets her eyes wander over the papers all over the floor. Articles, interviews. Summaries of videos which Gabriel Agreste appeared in. Catalogues Marinette could grab online, information regarding his brand and his business. Some piles are stacked all over the bed, and Marinette stops in her movements at last, highlighter sill between her fingers.

“Yeah?”

“You … Are you … Isn’t that – Gabriel Agreste. Adrien’s father.”

Marinette smiles at her. “Yep. I realized that he has some open positions right now, so I’m doing my research.”

Alya looks at her funnily. “I can see that.”

Still smiling, Marinette tilts her head. “Can I do something for you?”

“I …” Alya awkwardly puts her weight from one foot to the other. “You … you heard from Adrien today?”

Marinette’s smile starts to feel painful. “Nope.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“No.” Her smile is starting to twist her gut. “Why?”

“Well, see …” Alya takes a deep breath. “Nino got a message from him. And … Look, it’s weird, and we have no idea what is going on, but …”

A long moment of hesitation. Marinette can be at least grateful for that.

“Seems like he’s gone. And not even Nino knows where he went. He’s just … He kinda vanished, and we have no idea why.” Her eyes are soft and full of sympathy. “Like … Gone. Told Nino he has an apartment somewhere outside of Paris, and to not come looking for him, and that he had planned this for a while anyway, so … Completely out of the blue.”

Silence again. Something about Alya’s look is scrutinizing, yet full of compassion. Marinette forces herself not to play with the highlighter between her fingers, not to avert her gaze, not to show how much she actually knows. Instead she waits, head slightly tilted, surrounded by the grimace of an ugly man all around her. Looking into the camera, looking at something else, cold eyes and a hardened expression and her fingers twitch to tear any kind of emotion right from that despicable monster’s face.

But then, Alya inhales audibly. “You don’t happen to know anything about it, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

Maybe her answer is a bit too dry, a bit too hasty. But Alya’s face contorts in sympathy anyway. “He’s a coward, isn’t he? Couldn’t choose, so he ran away?”

Marinette listens dutifully. Nods. Smiles. “Seems so.”

“Are you okay?” Alya whispers. “You’re … Something about you seems …”

“Oh, yeah, I’m over it,” Marinette says, going back to her papers. “Adrien and I never were that close to begin with.”

“You slept with him.”

Marinette freezes. Only for a tiny moment before she pulls herself together again. She shrugs. “Yeah, so? A lot of people sleep with each other. It’s whatever.”

She feels Alya’s eyes on her. Longer and longer, until Alya finally keeps talking. “You’re so clearly lying it’s not even funny. And that’s okay. But if you’re ready to talk about it …”

“I know where to find you,” Marinette brings out through a constricting throat.

“Yeah. Exactly,” Alya whispers. “I’m here for you, okay?”

And with that, Alya closes the door.

Marinette’s sight gets blurry once again. Her eyes already feel heavy and tired. She wipes her cheeks. Stares at the photo in front of her. Gabriel Agreste.

She has never hated someone in her life with such passion. Never.

She is going to destroy him. She is going to destroy him, bit by tiny bit, piece by piece, and then everything will be all right again.

It will be. It has to be.

It has to be.