Chapter 1: Origins pt.1
Chapter Text
Bridgette observed the cloud of smoke twirling lazily in the air.
The smell was mixed with the one of fresh baked bread and pastries, creating a familiar scent that relaxed her nerves. The first day of school was always the worst.
She shook the cigarette hanging between her fingers. The ash created a small pile, quickly blown away by the early fall wind.
Her clothes, a white ironed shirt, low rise jeans and a grey cardigan wouldn't be described as a fashion statement, but she knew better than to be bullied from the very beginning of the school year.
The view from the terrace of her room was one of the best one could ask for, she could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Underneath her, the traffic and the chatting of tourists approaching her parents' bakery was constant, but she didn't mind it.
«Bridgette!» Called out her father. «Breakfast!»
She came back inside and grabbed a mint from her nightstand, to get rid of the smokey taste in her mouth. Both of her parents got up for work at about five a.m., but her father had just left a pain au chocolate still warm on the kitchen table. She ripped it apart, dipping every piece in her black coffee. She checked her phone distractedly as she was eating.
She didn't really have any friends in school, but on a couple of her classmates from the previous year had posted on social media.
She typed on the Instagram research bar for a "Chloé" and clicked on the first result.
Chloé had posted three stories already: one of a rich, continental breakfast, a selfie in the bathroom mirror and a close-up of the logo of her striped long sleeve top, which read "Agreste". Bridgette thought it was tacky.
On her way to school, she listened to her favorite album, Lion and the Cobra. Her school was private, and mostly for privileged teens. Her family was lucky enough to be able to afford it, but most of the kids who went there came from money. Their parents didn't work half as hard as Bridgette's.
Walking into her classroom, her attention was immediately captured by a blonde girl, sitting in the first row. Her foundation was several shades darker than her skin, and she was wearing concealer on her lips. Instead of a backpack she had a designer bag, and her eyes were of an unsettling light blue, lighter than Bridgette's and most people she'd ever met.
«Hello, Bridgette.» The blonde girl said, hardly looking at her. «How's the bakery?»
Bridgette ignored the provocation, and went to sit on the second row, on the opposite side of Chloé. She found herself next to a girl she'd never seen before: light brown skin, hair of a rusty-earthy color and a large pair of glasses. The girl introduced herself as Alya, but Bridgette was busy looking at Chloé, who was complaining about everyone who tried to sit in the same row as herself and her friend Sabrina, a small redhead with a weak character who could never stand up for herself.
Arguing with Chloé was Nino, whom Bridgette had known for a long time. She usually ignored Chloé's scenes, but apparently the same could not be said about Alya.
«C'mon, quit bitching.» She complained loudly. «Let the guy sit wherever he wants.»
Both Chloé and Nino turned towards her, the first with shock and anger and the second with gratitude.
«Excuse me?» Chloé was fuming. «Who even are you?»
«I'm Alya. Who are you?»
«Chloé Bourgeois.»
«Oh.» Alya said, finally understanding why everyone had been silent and horrified by her comment. «Why won't you let-»
Before she could finish the question, someone walked into the room. Chloé's expression turned sweeter than Bridgette had ever seen it, and when she spoke, her voice was high pitched and sugary.
«Oh, Felix!»
Whoever could turn Chloé in such state deserved Bridgette's full attention. She was struck by his height. The boy who had entered the classroom must've been taller than 1,80 meters, and was surprisingly skinny. He had blond hair, slicked back, and green eyes. He was very pale, despite summer having just ended, and he was wearing a grey vest on top of a white shirt and lined pants. The fabric of his clothes looked expensive, but that wasn't unusual in her school.
«Hello, Chloé.» He said, without the hint of a smile. He hardly looked at the rest of the class and accepted the seat Chloé was pointing at him.
Nino stared at her for five solid seconds, and without breaking eye contact he sat next to the new student, Felix. Felix glanced at him, apparently annoyed by his presence, but decided not to say a word. He'd arrived just at the right time. It began pouring outside.
The first day seemed to pass without much turbulence. Alya asked Bridgette to go outside for a smoke during a break, and Nino joined them. He managed to convince Felix to come with them, but he kept silent. It was still raining.
Bridgette, who was sharing an umbrella with Alya, complained about having to walk home under that relentless rain.
«You could always ask Felix,» Nino said, «He has a private driver.»
The two girls laughed, but Felix turned paler than usual and went back inside without saying a word.
«He should learn how to take a joke.» Bridgette said, «How fitting him and Chloé are such good friends.»
«He could've offered for real, instead.» Alya added. «What trouble could it be, for him?»
«I just don't think he likes people all that much. His father is a fashion designer and he's a model. He's used to people either adoring him or trying to take him down. He hasn't said a word to me all day, except when I offered him a cig.» Nino shrugged. «Whatever. I only asked to annoy Chloé anyways.»
Alya chuckled.
«What's up with that girl? All day long, she's been nothing but a bitch to everyone.»
«You should've seen her last year with Bridgette. I could think of more offensive ways to call her.»
«What'd you mean?»
Bridgette cleared her voice. «She'd do all kind of things. Throwing away my things, stealing my gym clothes, ripping my notebooks apart... I lost most of the designs I had last years because she threw my pen drive in some chemicals in the laboratory. I was supposed to do an internship in Milan this summer, but I had to give it up because of her.»
«You know what you could do to get revenge?» Nino raised his eyebrows mischievously.
Bridgette exhaled some smoke. «Do tell.»
«Steal her boyfriend.»
Both girls laughed.
«Let's go, the lesson is about to start.»
Inside, Chloé was all over Felix, who was quite evidently ignoring her. Bridgette found the dynamic funny.
«Hi Felix.» She told him, while staring at Chloé. «Are you liking the school?»
«It's fine.»
She hadn't expected him to reply to her, and neither had Chloé. Her ears turned bright pink.
«You really shouldn't talk to her, Felix. Her parents work in The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. Her being in this school is basically a charity project.»
Felix looked at Bridgette for what was the first time. His green eyes, for just a second, seemed to be smiling at her. Bridgette thought that must made a good model of him.
«That's a good bakery.» He said quietly.
Considering it was the most he had spoken the whole day, Bridgette felt she had won against Chloé, and sat next to Alya, satisfied by her victory. Something about the way Felix looked at her kept coming up in her mind. She spent the rest of the day looking at his back, wondering what he was thinking.
It was still raining when the school bell rang, signaling the end of the lessons. Bridgette said goodbye to Alya and Nino, and waited a couple of minutes at the entrance, hoping the rain would slow down.
A black SUV parked in front of the school.
«It won't stop raining.»
She jumped when she heard Felix's voice behind her.
«Don't say it, c'mon. Let me at least believe it will.» She told him. «I'll make a run for it, eventually.»
Felix opened his own umbrella and took a couple of steps outside.
«Here.» He turned and held out the umbrella, exposing himself to the rain.
«Oh no, don't. You'll get all wet.»
«I have a car waiting for me. Besides, you're going to ruin all your clothes.» He pointed at her Mary Janes. «Those are vintage, aren't they?»
Bridgette couldn't think of anything to say. She took the umbrella from his hands and looked as he slowly walked to his car.
The first day of school hadn't gone horribly, after all. And she hadn't yet seen the old-looking jewelry box that had appeared on her desk at home, as if by magic.
Chapter 2: Origins pt.2
Chapter Text
Felix stretched uncomfortably on the dinner table.
He was massaging his neck, pushing in a circular motion while increasing strength, until he doubted whether he was trying to take away his pain or aggravate it. The constant tension in his shoulders was the main reason his father had agreed to enroll him in school - the photoshoots, fencing lessons, strict dieting had started to take a toll on him.
Natalie, his father personal assistant, casually asked him how his first day had been. He said it had been fine.
Truth was, it had been exhausting. Not the learning aspect of it all - Felix had been taught by private tutors all his life - but the socializing part was nothing short of a self-imposed torture. The only people he was used to interact with were adults. Designers, photographers, models, tutors, all roles interested in his body, not him.
Teenagers, apparently, were not satisfied by his appearance, but their sharp curiosity stung him, like dozens of needles, everywhere, tearing him apart to study each little side of him.
He smoothened the hair on his head, heading to his bedroom.
His bedroom was a large room - larger than he needed, with a wall entirely made of square windows. On the left side there were bookshelves, organized by genre. The philosophy section was the most furnished, with books stacked one on top of the other.
Felix sat in front of a computer, and clicked on a search engine. There were about ten tabs left open, including several wikipedia pages - the most recent one read " Critique of Pure Reason" - , the official website of a cosmetic brand and the portfolio of a photographer.
He opened a new tab and typed "The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie". He scrolled to the reviews left by costumers. At least he hadn't made up a lie. The bakery could boast excellent ratings, it almost had a perfect five-stars score. There was a one-star review by an anonymous account who had left no written explanation.
It was as he was about to turn off the computer that he noticed a small wooden box on his desk, right next to his elbow.
As he was positive it hadn't been there that same morning, someone must have left it for him there; he looked around, but there was no sign of notes or messages in his inbox that could give him a clue.
At first he thought it had to be fan gift, something he'd get rid of without a second thought, but the box was too elaborate, too antique, more like an expensive gift. It could've been a rich fan, but it was too unusual to not have left a letter with it, unless of course it'd gotten lost.
He opened it.
His disappointment caught him off guard. Inside, there was a black ring, which had, on the top, a cat's muzzle. It looked like a cheap plastic ring, such a waste of a beautiful box. He took it in his hands, to throw it in the trash, when he noticed how cold it was.
He tilted his head, studying it, and noticed the glimmering eyes of the cat seemed to be of a diamond-like material. He tried putting the ring under different light sources, observing the various reflections.
His verdict was, that ring was made of no plastic. In fact, he decided to putting it on his middle finger, without any reason different from simple curiosity.
It fit perfectly, maybe too perfectly. As he attempted to take it off, a black smoke started to come out of it.
It seemed as if it was coming from the point where his finger touched the ring, all around it, and it was creating a dark cloud on top of it. Felix thought the ring was burning his skin, or maybe it was poisonous. It had been foolish to wear the ring out of vanity.
The smoke stopped. Breathing heavily, Felix stumbled away from the little black cloud which had formed, thinking it was toxic.
He was about to call for Natalie, the only name he could come up with, when he noticed the cloud was solidifying. It was forming the image of a creature - Felix had no other name to call it, as he had never seen anything quite like it - a small rectangular body, about ten centimeters tall, two legs, not nearly long nor sturdy enough to hold the body, two arms of the same sort (or maybe they were another set of legs, he couldn't be sure) and a head, which maintained a feline appearance, the only way he had of knowing for sure there was a relation between the creature and the ring.
It looked harmless, the only reason Felix had to avoid screaming in terror. Frozen in place, he watched in disbelief as the creature looked around, taking in its surroundings.
«Oh, hello!» It said when it spotted Felix, who was becoming paler with each passing minute.
He almost had a stroke. Maybe he had - after all, he'd always been skeptical of the idea of starting school - and he'd died.
«You speak French?!» He stuttered, unable to formulate the actual question he'd been meaning to ask, "You speak?!" or even better, "What are you?"
«France? That's where we are?» The creature asked with a mild interest. It was impossible to make out its silhouette. Every movement, even the most innocent, created the black smoke produced by the ring, wrapped around its body and quickly dissipated. It headed towards the library.
«Kierkegaard?» It read on the spine of The Seducer's Diary. «He was a bore-»
«You read?!»
It turned towards him, and Felix could swear he had a confused expression.
«Right, sorry, I forgot about this,» The creature sighed, «You spend as much time as I did in there, and try and see if you can remember your duties.»
"Duties" was a word Felix was extremely familiar with, but the situation was unlike anything he'd ever been in.
«What?»
«I'm a kwami. Spirit of destruction. You're the bearer of the ring.» It said everything comically slowly. «You must see where I'm getting...»
The kwami fixated his bright green eyes on him, waiting for Felix to say something. The boy looked down to the ring he'd forgotten he was still wearing.
«So you do come from this ring.» He said, ignoring everything else it'd said. «If I take it off...»
«...I'll go away. There's a-»
Felix attempted to force the ring out of his finger. It was a difficult task; both his hands were shaking violently and his eyes kept jumping to the kwami, as if they had a mind of their own.
«Is it glued on my finger?»
«You can think of it that way, if it helps you sleep at night.» It was moving through the books, twirling and spinning. «Ars Amatoria.» He read the title with a delighted laughter.
«What about it?» Felix was surprised by how steady his voice sounded. All of a sudden his violent terror had left place to a strange hollowness. The situation was mad, but there was no denying it was happening. At least the kwami wasn't a threat to him.
«You can't just take the ring off.» The kwami explained, finally tired of wandering around. It tilted its head and got closer.
«If I put it on, I can take it off.» He ran to the bathroom and rubbed soap on his finger. «Why is it not coming off?»
«I told you.» The kwami had followed him inside, passing right through the closed door. Felix felt sick.
«How about you tell me how to do it?»
«Think about it as magic.» The kwami suggested.
Magic. Felix felt a chilling shiver running down his spine. His laughter echoed in the bathroom.
«Really? Magic? Is this a game? A marketing technique? Are you an hologram?»
«You're taking this well,» The kwami said, clearly misinterpreting his laughter, «I told you, I'm a kwami, a spirit. I grant powers to those who wear the ring you have on your finger. My name is Plagg, by the way.»
«Prove it to me, Plagg.» Felix ordered. When he was a child he used to use that same tone to ask for toys after photoshoots. «Prove to me you're... magic.»
Plagg hesitated.
«I can't do it directly, only through you. When you embrace the nature of the ring you're able to... turn into someone new. At first it's difficult, and frankly, quite painful. Your current human form is forced to accept a power beyond its capability. After a while, it becomes so intuitive turning is as natural as breathing. Just inhale, close your eyes, focus on the ring, accept it.»
Felix wished he had weed.
«I can turn into whoever I choose?»
Plagg responded with a hiss he interpreted as it laughing.
«No. You see the cat on the ring? That represents my spirit. In the physical realm, my essence take the form of a cat.»
«So I'll turn into a cat?»
«No, but you'll have feline features. Instincts, reflexes, agility, even ears.»
Felix touched his hair self-consciously.
«This doesn't answer how I'll get rid of this ring. The powers and the ears don't seem worth it, sorry.»
«It also grants the power of distruction.» The kwami added casually. «Just like turning, it's very instinctive. It allows you to destroy everything you touch, but only when you're turned.»
«Can I touch the ring when I have the power of distruction?»
«Clever, but no.» Plagg was floating in front of him. «You should know, the fact that this ring has been granted to you means there are powerful, negative forces on their way to... I guess Paris, that's where we are, right?»
Felix usually prided himself of being sharp, so he was annoyed by how long his realization took. He was able to get back to his bedroom and sit on the couch before it hit him.
«Does that mean I'm supposed to stop evil forces?» He shook his head. «Absolutely no. If someone destroys Paris, I'll just move to New York.»
«Well, you don't really have-»
«Whose idea was this anyway? I'm sixteen, for fuck's sake. Give the power to the president of the United States.»
«If you do it, you might have. a chance to take the ring off.» Plagg gave him a long look.
«If I stop the evil forces?» He tried debating if it was worth it. «Where do evil forces come from?»
«I'm not the only kwami around. It seems one has gotten into the wrong hands, therefore, as everything in the universe requires balance, two equally strong kwamis have appeared to face the threat. Two strong spirits ended up in the hands of two equally worthy bearers. One of said spirits is me, the other one is the kwami of creation.»
Felix was annoyed he had been the one to get the spirit of distruction, but it sadly fit him.
«What does this have to do with the ring coming off?»
Plagg sighed.
«I worked really hard on that speech. It is said that your ring brings misfortune, and the token of the other bearer brings luck. The bearer of the spirit of creation might absolve you of your duties, as well as the misfortune. In other words, you'd be able to take your ring off.»
«You should've led with the fact I'm now cursed with... misfortune.»
Felix put his head between his hands.
«It might be a legend. I'm above the concept of luck, I don't understand it. However, it is true the other bearer could help you if you wanted to take your ring off.»
«How? How?» Felix jumped on his feet. It was one of the most nerve wreaking days of his life.
«It is said,» He repeated, «The curse was born from a place of hate, and it will end in a place of love.»
«Love?»
«I should probably stress no one has ever indulged too much into this. You'll soon find that the absolute freedom the ring gives you is intoxicating, addicting. Renouncing the ring means renouncing a way of life few in history could experience.»
Felix touched his lips with the tip of his fingers. Love.
«So an act of love? Do you think a kiss could be enough?»
He felt a blush creeping up his neck. He'd kissed before in several campaigns, but he'd never been one to beg or even chase for a kiss.
«Love expresses itself in many ways. You should remember, if you settle on a kiss, it should be granted, not asked, not imposed, but given. What matter is the intention of the person who gives it to you. And one last thing, you can't mention the curse in any way, to anyone. That would cause pity to be the intention under any attempt to remove the curse.»
«Intention. That's Kant.» Felix groaned. «How do I meet the other bearer?»
As soon as he asked the question, as on cue, the lights of his bedroom switched off, all at once. He walked to his window to see all the lights in Paris were shutting down, just as the sun was setting.
Plagg's eyes glimmered in the dark.
«I have a feeling,» He whispered, «That you're about to find out.»
Chapter 3: We'll meet again
Notes:
My english might suck a bit honestly feel free to correct me.
Chapter Text
«Pardon me.» The words escaped Bridgette's mouth for what was probably the hundredth time in the last couple of hours.
Tikki hovered above her monitor.
«I wouldn't expect you to take it well right away. You're awfully young as well.» She noticed, her red silhouette admiring the pictured hanging from a board above her bed.
«How old were the other...»
«Bearers? Between nineteen and fifty-four. Sixteen is uncharted territory.» Tikki admitted, before scratching her head with a puzzled expression.
Bridgette had yet to transform, but a part of her itched to do it. Prove that it was real, that for once in her life something interesting had actually happened to her.
«So... protecting Paris. From what exactly?»
«An imminent threat, if the earrings manifested themselves. I hope Plagg explained it all, thoroughly. If handled badly, the spirit of destruction...» Tikki shivered, or better, she did a convincing imitation of shivering.
An imminent threat.
«What about homework?»
Tikki tilted her head. «What about them?»
«I have to do homework.»
«Then do it.»
Bridgette couldn't find a fault in her logic. «I will.»
She opened her notes, trying to ignore the brightly lit spirit floating around the room. Her eyes followed the first line of ink-colored letters, but no meaning came out of them. She tried again, and again. Nothing.
«Okay, I'll do it.»
Tikki's light burnt a little brighter, as Bridgette had noticed happening whenever she felt strong emotions or stimuli.
«You'll save Paris?»
Bridgette scoffed, «I'll try to transform.» She corrected. The temptation was clouding everything else in her mind.
«Just focus on the earrings, and on claiming their power. A flexible mind should be able to call itself to me easily, and given your age, you should have very little problems. Often bearers find a mantra that helps them.»
A mantra. Bridgette closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of the earring piercing her lobes, touching their cold surface. She tapped on them, hoping to activate them like an old phone left to gather dust in the drawer of her desk.
A few minutes passed, with nothing but a clacson honking disturbing the atmosphere.
«It's not working.»
«Have you tried the mantra?»
Bridgette's face turned into a scorn. She'd never been one for mantras. «I suck at keeping my focus.»
Tikki, who had explored the room until that very moment, turned her blue eyes on her.
«You design clothes. That requires focus.» She pointed out, disappearing behind a mannequin.
«Yes, and I listen to Serge Gainsbourg while I do it. I can't bring headphones with me while I play Secret Services, am I right?»
«You hardly need headphones to recall music.»
Another handful of minutes passed, where Bridgette tried to recall tunes in her head. At one point, she could swear her hands were tingling, but it was probably just the stillness of her body playing tricks on her.
«Don't be upset. It always takes a while. Besides, this is the first time, it'll get easier.»
Bridgette didn't know what Tikki meant for a while, and deluded herself she was talking about weeks, but after thirty minutes of failed attempts, even Tikki's encouraging words were starting to sound hollow.
She stretched her legs and kicked a pile of books, which ended up hitting a few brand new vinyls she'd snatched at a flea market.
«Who's that?» Tikki asked, looking at the cover of the album. It was a very non-official vinyl.
«Her? That's Jane Birkin herself.»
The kwami's tone sweetened after seeing the girl enthusiastic reaction. «Give her a try.»
Bridgette closed her eyes.
«When we were strangers, I watched you from afar.» She whispered, «When we were strangers, I watched you from afar.»
The words echoed in her own head, as if pronounced by a stranger.
«When we were strangers, I watched you from afar, when we were lovers, I loved you with all my heart. When we were strangers, I watched you from afar, when we were lovers, I loved you with all my heart.» She repeated it again and again, spelling every word, stressing every letter, absorbing the meaning of each verse.
Then it happened.
It was like the earrings were burning her flesh. Like her skin was turning into a bright red suit, instead of being covered by it; she wasn't changing her clothes, she was transforming into a new entity; her eyes were being scorched of every defect, gaining a hawk-worthy sight, her lungs enlarged painfully, capable of an athleticism she'd never needed before, the muscles of her legs and arms shredded and reformed at least a dozen times.
In other words, she was left gasping for air on the ground for a good fifteen minutes before she could even speak.
«What the hell...»
Except Tikki wasn't there anymore. She was alone, and judging by her mirror, a brand new person. A quick examination told her Tikki had said the truth: she was wearing a red, black-dotted suit, including a red sack hanging from a belt around her waist.
She inspected the content with her hands, but her fingers only brushed against a ladybug-patterned disk, the same dimension of her palm. She tapped it, pressed on it, even stomped with her feet on it, but it remained untouched.
She walked to the terrace of her room, deciding to test her sharp senses and newfound agility.
It wasn't only her smell, touch and sight heightened, but her intuition as well.
She knew exactly how much strength it would take her to jump on her roof, which was absurd, because in no circumstance she'd ever need to do it.
«This is mad.» She mumbled to herself, before bending her knees and taking a leap.
Paris was a whirwind of stone and cement, and Bridgette was flying across the city, from roofs to terraces to chimneys, only touching the ground occasionally. Her heart was pounding in her throat, her muscles were burning, but a pleasurable kind of burning, and her eyes could spot bread crumbling to the ground outside of cafés while she leaped between rues.
An hour must've passed before she stopped to sit on the roof of a three-stars hotel.
She massaged her thigh with circular motions, but instead of fading away, the burning got worse.
Frowning, she looked at it, before noticing it was coming from the sack hanging from her waist. It was the disk she'd found earlier, getting hotter and hotter by the second.
«I should throw you away.» She mumbled, missing Tikki's reassuring presence.
«I wouldn't.»
For whatever reason, she wasn't startled to notice someone walking behind her. Maybe a part of her had picked it up, but it almost felt as if the figure talking to her had been her shadow: the most natural presence in the world, nothing she could ever be surprised or scared of.
«It's you.»
Her gaze dropped on her counterpart. Not only his suit reminded her of a feline, but he even moved in a cat-like fashion.
«It's me.»
«Cat-walking?»
He went rigid for a second.
«I'm Chat Noir.»
«Isn't that original? Maybe I should call myself Ladybug.»
He let out a stifled sound, which she interpreted as a laugh.
«Be my guest.» He pointed at the disk in her hand. «It gets hotter the closest we get.»
«Can we turn it off, now that we're together?»
He shook his head, so she dumped the disk back in her sack.
«Hurts, doesn't it? Turning into...» Chat Noir slowly pointed at himself, «...Whatever this is.»
She nodded, trying to guess anything about him. He sounded young, maybe even as young as herself, but there was a certain arrogance to him, which she wasn't sure she liked in a partner, of whatever genre, but especially a crime-fighting one.
«So, the city will soon be invaded by an ill-intentioned villain, cinema style.» She said, as he settled just next to her, careful not to touch her.
«Seems like it's almost a sickness that spreads from our patient zero, the villain we've been given our supposed powers to fight, and an unwilling subject.» He reasoned, looking at the sun that was setting behind a series of chimneys in front of them.
«And the trigger is a negative emotion. Bullshit system, everyone gets those, every day, all the time. I could've been triggered about seventy times just today.»
He bit his lip, his feline pupils delating a bit. «Not any negative emotion. It must be aligned to our patient zero. Imagine every negative emotion as a different virus. It can only latch onto a suitable subject, meaning one going through a similar state of mind.»
«So we find the villain and neutralize it, me using a charm and you destroying whatever possessed them. Only works if we're together.»
Chat Noir confirmed it with a nod. «Apparently once they've been neutralized with your power they'll cough up a moth or something and I'll have to destroy it. It's actually sickening.» He admitted, staring at the ring on his finger.
«I can handle it.» Ladybug reassured him, although her grip on her own leg had tightened.
«It's not you who'll get sick.»
She chuckled, her long black hair swaying on her back. Chat Noir followed the movement, like an actual kitten ready to jump and play with them.
«Until a villain actually comes, I think I'll get home.» Ladybug yawned and got up.
Chat Noir noticed her moving distractedly.
«I'm staying here for a while.»
«Suit yourself.»
He grinned for the first time since they'd started talking. «I already did.»
He pinched the cat ears perching from his wild blonde hair.
«Terrible joke. What are you, twelve?»
He got up as well so they could talk eye to eye. «Can't tell you, can I? I can only give you hints.»
She stiffened, «You shouldn't.»
«That's true. I sure hope I don't look twelve, cause I can absolutely tell you're not twelve either.»
The heavy implication behind his words made her cheeks tingle.
«Keep your eyes open for villains instead of...»
He barked a laughter, seemingly getting more comfortable by the second. «I will, Ladybug. It has a ring to it, by the way.»
Ladybug squinted her eyes, trying to figure out if he was mocking her, but he looked genuine.
«Before any other shitty line about how mature I might look, you should know I can't drive, yet. Only hint I'm willing to tell you, and only so you can avoid legal repercussions.»
Chat Noir nodded, «Me neither.»
«Makes you question the sanity of whoever gave us the kwamis, am i right?» She was surprised to find some bitterness on her tongue as she spat out the words.
«When the world turns to shit there's always someone to blame, and it's usually the vulnerable,» Chat Noir cleared his throat, «Ever read a newspaper or anything at all, maybe some Cicero? The younger generation is always a palatable scapegoat.»
She ignored his provocation. «Grim perspective, to think we've been given these powers cause we'll fuck up.»
Chat Noir shrugged, unfazed. «Then we won't fuck up.»
A small smile tugged at her lips. «I'll see you when the world will turn to shit then.»
«I'll be the one saving your ass.»
Ladybug gave him one last nod before leaping towards the building in front of them, and he watched her disappear into the evening shadows.
GodessOfTheNight on Chapter 1 Fri 01 Sep 2023 03:19AM UTC
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Ur_duchess_of_the_north on Chapter 1 Fri 01 Sep 2023 08:38PM UTC
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