Chapter Text
Marinette
Marinette hit the send button with enough force to create a black hole in her inbox — sucking in deadlines, meetings, and responsibilities as she officially vanished into two weeks of blissful, uninterrupted vacation.
The x button was next to feel her wrath as she slammed her finger on the mouse , closing the last window before powering down her computer. She leaned back in her chair, letting out a loud, unapologetic sigh. Her head tipped back allowing a wave of relief to crash over her.
This was all so overdue!
A wide smile tugged at her lips as her mind drifted to what lay ahead.
Two weeks off. Two whole weeks without meetings, deadlines, or responsibilities. Just long walks on the beach and shamelessly making out with her boyfriend in their own private cabana.
Oh yes, life was very good.
She spun around in her chair, giggling like a maniac as her black hair whipped around behind her. The unhinged joy shot out of her like an overenthusiastic cannon — and she didn’t care one iota.
Springing to her feet, like a child vaulting from a merry-go-round, Marinette made her way to the small cloakroom in the corner of her office, each step bouncing with a ridiculous amount of glee.
She flung the door open, grabbed her jacket, and slung it over her arm. A moment later, she yanked out her bag and kicked the door shut with a satisfying thud.
Back at her desk, she had one mission: find her phone. After a brief rummage through the chaotic abyss of receipts, gum wrappers, and who-knows-what, she emerged victorious.
A-ha!
One phone. One new message.
Her heart gave a flutter as she read his name, and suddenly, everything inside her felt like sunshine.
Kitty: I wish you could see the stupid smile I get when you text me ♥️
Ladybug: Careful, Kitty… that smile might make me fall even harder for you 😘
Kitty: Can’t help it if I’m irresistible. Must be tough having a crush this bad
Ladybug: Tough? Please. I’m thriving. Having you wrapped around my finger is a full-time luxury
Kitty: Your finger? Sweetheart, you’re the one falling faster than being pulled by gravity
Ladybug: Bold words for someone who’s basically purring every time I text
Kitty: Keep flirting like that and I might just start clawing my way into your bed
Ladybug: Might? Kitty, you’re already halfway there 😉
Kitty: Then scoot over. I don’t do halfway!
Marinette’s cheeks hurt.
Ladybug: I’ll see you in an hour. Can’t wait! I’ve missed you so much ♥️
It had been ten excruciating days since she’d last seen him. But she’d be seeing him tonight, and then all day, every day, for the next two weeks. Had she already mentioned that?
She chuckled again, placing her phone on her desk so she could slide her arms into her jacket. The buzz from the table was satisfactory. Another new message from Chat Noir.
Kitty: I’ve missed you too, my love! We’re going to have such a great couple of weeks. I love you 😻
Her obnoxious smile turned into an obnoxious laugh, a loud bout of giggling like she was a teenager receiving a message from her first crush. Except this wasn’t her first crush, this was her all time crush, with blond hair and a suit which fit every part of his body just right!
Marinette always knew she’d fit into the simp box — her obsessive behaviour making it a certainty, but since dating Chat Noir, she’d even outdone her own extreme standards. She was completely and utterly besotted with him — even after five magnificent years of dating.
If anyone asked her how her life was going, she wouldn’t have to sugar coat anything, because as far as she was concerned, her life was perfect. She was the epitome of Lady Luck. Dream job. Cosy apartment. Wonderful family and Paris’ most eligible bachelor as her boyfriend.
She may have pushed Chat Noir away in their teenage years, but he soon buried himself under her skin and in her heart. And the day she thought she’d lost him for good was the day everything was put into perspective. It was simple. Without Chat Noir, life would suck.
He was everything to her. Her biggest support, but also her biggest challenger. He was kind and considerate, and always put her needs before his own—protecting her and keeping her safe.
A knock vibrated through the door, Marinette calling them in as she placed her phone in her bag and continued her escape.
‘I know you’re finished for the day, but I thought you might want this?’
Sabrina Raincomprix, Marinette’s vigilant secretary, held up a Manila envelope in her hands giving it a little shake for effect.
Marinette found herself squealing, dropping her bag back on the desk and heading straight over to her. ‘Is this it?’
She took the envelope from Sabrina’s hands like it was a ticking time bomb, rotating it slowly in her hands as though it might explode.
‘It just arrived.’
They exchanged a bright smile before heading over to the desk, clearing the space to place it down and remove its contents.
‘Have you checked it? Have you opened it?’ Marinette asked, her finger trailing the opening and seeing it was still tightly shut.
Sabrina shook her head. ‘This is yours, Marinette.’
Taking a deep, inflating breath, Marinette slid her finger underneath the flap, opening it slowly — carefully — making sure she didn’t spoil any of the contents inside. This envelope was worth everything. Everything she had worked so hard for, had pushed for, was included right here.
Releasing a small breath, she shakily took the documents out, giving them a careful scan, absorbing all those incredible words.
Collaboration.
Milan Fashion Week.
Accepted.
Everything inside her throbbed with glee as she read the final line.
Signed: Mr G. Agreste.
Gabriel Agreste. The Gabriel Agreste. She’d dreamed of this for years, wanted it for so long, and now it was here. A collaboration with Paris’ finest designer and her small up and coming company. He’d finally accepted her deal.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she whispered, running a finger along the perfect penmanship of his signature. ‘It’s happening. It’s actually happening.’
Marinette grabbed the contract, hugging it to her chest like her most favourite teddy bear. Her small, up and coming company (MDC) was going to collaborate with Gabriel freakin’ Agreste. She literally held her dreams in her hands. Something she’d wanted since she was fourteen and worked her butt off to achieve.
MDC x Agreste. This was amazing!
Quickly, she packed her things away before sweeping Sabrina into a tight hug.
‘I’m so proud of you, Marinette,’ Sabrina squealed mid twirl.
She was proud of herself too, so proud in fact that she was going to buy herself an extra cocktail as a well done. One complete with a tiny pink umbrella and a slice of pineapple — she just needed to get out of here now.
‘So, I’ll see you in sixteen days at the Agreste Headquarters.’
Sabrina could hardly contain her excitement. ‘You most certainly will. I’ll make sure everything’s sorted here before then.’
And Marinette was certain she would.
Against all the odds, Sabrina had managed to break away from Chloé Bourgeois and become a strong independent woman.
But that wasn’t all.
Sabrina’s dramatic exit from the I Love Chloé fan club had somehow guilt-tripped Marinette’s one-time bully into making amends. Chloé would never land a spot on Marinette’s Best Friends Forever list, but they tolerated each other now — which was basically a miracle. Marinette had even designed a few of Chloé’s outfits for events, and no one had cried or thrown anything, so that was most definitely progress.
‘I can always count on you,’ Marinette said with a grin, swinging her bag over her shoulder like a woman on a mission, and not-so-secretly daydreaming about celebrating with her favorite Kitty later tonight.
‘Oh—and tell Francesca I trust her judgment while I’m gone,’ she added, halfway to the door, then paused. ‘But if it’s truly an emergency, she’s allowed to blow up my personal cell. Only then. Like, fire-alarm-level drama.’
It wasn’t technically a vacation, but it was the closest Marinette had come to breathing room in weeks, and she wasn’t about to ruin it by micromanaging from afar.
Francesca, thankfully, was the kind of assistant designers fought wars over. Head of the design floor, the queen of clean lines, and a terrifyingly efficient presence in heels. Her zero-tolerance approach to anything less than flawless had become the perfect counterbalance to Marinette’s softer, occasionally-too-nice style.
Where Marinette might say, ‘Let’s try to rework this together,’ Francesca would arch one eyebrow and say, ‘Fix it or find the exit.’
And yet, Marinette trusted her implicitly.
Because under the designer black and ice-cold exterior, Francesca was fiercely loyal, unshakably competent, and weirdly good at remembering everyone’s coffee order down to the milk froth level.
Leaving things in her hands wasn’t just smart — it was a power move.
Sabrina grinned. ‘Nope! Not telling her that. You’ve earned this vacation, and you’re going to enjoy it. No work, no emergencies, no guilt trips. It’s just two weeks. We can survive. Plus,’ she added, wagging a finger, ‘you need to save your energy for dealing with Gabriel. You know he’s basically the human equivalent of a migraine in a designer suit.’
There was a lot said about Gabriel Agreste: spiteful, belligerent, allergic to basic human decency…
‘I’ll miss you,’ Marinette said, giving Sabrina one more quick hug before striding out of the office like Taylor Swift on her Eras Tour — confident, unstoppable, and ready to drink her weight in mojitos.
She bounced into the elevator, jabbing the button for the ground floor, already swept away by daydreams of stolen kisses on balconies and giggly hand-in-hand strolls through the sand.
Perfect. Wonderful. Totally enchanted.
She spun out of the elevator with a grin, only to be yanked back to reality by a cheerful chime from her bag.
One message from Maman: Don’t forget your sunscreen, ma chérie.
And one from Alya, with about a hundred winking emojis: Also… don’t forget protection. You know. The fun kind 😉
And another from her boyfriend:
Kitty: Sooo… did the contract arrive? Am I dating the hottest new hire? 😺
Biting her lip to hide a stupidly big grin, she tapped Reply:
Ladybug: It did! I got the job! Looks like you’re officially dating a superstar. Thank you for always believing in me. I love you (and your face) way too much!
Kitty: I love you way more!
Ladybug: Not possible, Chaton 😘
Kitty: On the contrary, sweetheart! You’re shorter than me, so your love capacity isn’t as big as mine. Meaning (by the laws of physics) it is physically impossible for you to love me more!
She snorted, rolling her eyes as she tapped back:
Ladybug: You’re such a nerd 🤓 A cute one… but still a nerd. And FYI, short things love the hardest — it’s basic science
A second later, his reply popped up:
Kitty: Basic science? Pfft. Remind me — who’s the Cambridge graduate here?
She smirked, thumbs flying over the screen, firing off one more message before heading down into the Metro Station:
Ladybug: Doesn’t matter, Minou. This short thing’s about to rock your world so hard you’ll need a helmet ♥️
Adrien
Adrien smiled down at the last message she’d sent, his heart tightening with a familiar ache. He knew she was already somewhere beneath Paris, racing through the Metro — teasing him one last time before they were back in each other’s arms.
Just one more hour. Sixty minutes until he could finally hold her again after ten endless days apart.
He’d barely stepped off the train from university before being swept into a blur of welcome-home dinners at the manor. And with her application for her new job pulling her in every direction, they’d been missing each other like the sun and the moon — always close, but never quite touching.
But soon, he thought, smiling to himself.
Very soon.
‘Adrien!’
His phone shot out of his hand, bouncing from palm to palm as he scrambled to catch it.
His father snatched it cleanly mid-air and shoved it back against Adrien’s chest with a sharp glare.
‘Will you pay attention, Adrien?!’
‘I am paying attention,’ Adrien said with infuriating calm, sliding the phone into his pocket. ‘I’m just trying to figure out what’s trending in fashion this week.’
He tapped his chin thoughtfully, deadpan.
‘Shoulder socks. Chin belts. Maybe… eyebrow gloves.’
His father’s eye twitched so hard it was almost impressive.
Adrien gave him a pleasant, innocent smile — and quietly started counting down the final minutes until he could disappear into someone else’s arms, far away from all of this.
‘So, what were you saying?’ Adrien asked, threading his fingers together and placing them on the table.
‘Do you agree?’ His father and Nathalie stared at him — expectant of an answer.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I, erm, I think I agree.’
Nathalie’s eyebrows fought hard against her Botox, lifting ever so slightly in his direction.
‘I mean, disagree. Yep, of course, disagree. I mean — pfft — why would I agree with that? It’s ridiculous!’
His father, the one and only Fashion Connoisseur Gabriel Agreste, removed his glasses and pinched his nose.
Ah, damn!
His father took a deep breath. ‘So, you’re saying you disagree with us removing shorts from the men’s formal wear line?’
‘I…I…’ Adrien shifted in his seat uncomfortably. ‘I, erm, I’m a fan of free will. It’s all about expressing yourself, like the other week I went to a movie premiere in Leicester Square and thought how great it would be to have shorts to go with my jacket.’
Never had Adrien seen his father so green. He looked positively pale and like he was about to be sick.
‘If you’re going to be part of this company, I need you to at least listen in board meetings.’
A quick examination of the room had Adrien questioning what exactly the board at Gabriel looked like, because the only people here were himself, his father and Nathalie.
‘I am listening. But I’m here for numbers, Father, not…whatever this is.’ Adrien gestured vaguely at the glossy portfolio spread across the table. His hand pulled one of the pictures towards him, his head tilting as he examined it with great attention. ‘Is this…a new line of sparkly tunics?’
His father sighed heavily, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘They’re embroidered matelassé vests, Adrien. Not tunics. And certainly not sparkly.’
Adrien shrugged, completely unfazed. ‘Could’ve fooled me. They shine like disco balls in a blackout.’
Never had he seen his father more exasperated! His father closed his eyes tight, making them, and his nose, scrunch up weirdly. A little like a baby pig.
‘You know what? Just go.’ Gabriel sighed, shoving his glasses back onto his face and gathering his paperwork.
Adrien didn’t need to be asked twice. ‘Alright.’
With a determined shove, the chair made the most horrendous sound as it scraped across the floor, freeing him from the dull meeting at least fifteen minutes earlier than expected.
Yanking his jacket down straight, Adrien grabbed his tablet and bag, and started heading to the door.
‘I’ll see you in two weeks then. I’m looking forward to it,’ he lied.
His father stood, blocking his escape to freedom with a stern look on his face. ‘Make sure you’re on your game, I need this collaboration to go well. I’m taking the risk because you thought it would be a good idea.’
Adrien grinned. ‘And you agreed that her resume was pretty solid.’
‘I don’t know what solid means. She does have talent, but talent doesn’t always cut it in this industry. You know that more than anyone else.’
With a mind of steel, Adrien stopped himself from rolling his eyes, because his father sounded like an idiot right now. MDC was a sure thing for being the next big trend. When they’d sat to read the applications, not only had her designs stood out, but so had her work ethic. She was also the only one who seemed more likely to kick his father’s ass than kiss it.
Everything about her seemed so honest, raw and fresh. It was going to be the best for both companies.
‘I can be charming! I’ll make sure she’s happy and looked after.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ his father muttered and Adrien tried not to take too much offence by it.
‘Don’t worry your little cravat over it, the company’s in good hands with me.’
He tapped his father on the said cravat, before shuffling around him and reaching for the door. A hand on his shoulder stopped him from making his great escape.
Adrien turned back, his eyes intent as he waited for his father to speak.
‘Let me know if you need any help moving into your new place.’
A burst of hope flowed freely through his veins. Was his father actually offering to come and help? He was quite sure his father had never lifted anything heavier than an eraser in all his life. ‘Are you free to come and help? I have a few viewings lined up and—’
His father stopped him, raising a hand as if commanding a dog. ‘I won’t be helping, but I’m sure Placide will be more than willing to take on some additional overtime.’
Adrien’s smile flickered to life like a faulty spotlight — bright on the surface, but with just enough strain at the edges to betray the short circuit underneath. He angled his head in mock appreciation, lips curling in a way that almost reached his eyes.
‘Thanks father,’ he said, his voice as smooth as champagne and just as hollow. ‘Sending Placide instead of coming yourself? That’s…thoughtful.’ The smile stayed fizzed like a mask, polished and practised, just like the ones he wore at award shows. Stepping out of the doorway, he moved just enough to appreciate the click of the door closing. He let out a sharp exhale as he calmed himself and thought about the next two weeks. He could forget his father. He could forget tunics and — what did his father call them? — Malteser vests.
Making his way back to his floor, quick nods and good evenings to those still slaving away to his father’s impossible demands — faces blue-lit by screens, fingers racing deadlines that changed with Gabriel’s whims, and large rolls of fabric being precariously carried from design room to design room. It was past eight, but the lights were still on, the coffee still flowing, and the tension still thick enough to cut with a pair of fabric shears. His father didn’t just expect excellence; he demanded devotion. The kind of devotion that bled into weekends, birthdays, and — if he didn’t get out swiftly — two weeks vacation with the love of his life. Tapping his left breast pocket, he smiled. She had his heart and hopefully, if all went well, after tonight, she would be on her way to having another part of him too.
As soon as he reached his office, he grabbed his briefcase balancing his tablet into it as he headed towards the elevators on a mission for the exit. Time was running down faster than Plagg’s Camembert collection. His original plan of taking the Metro would have to be changed to a run across the rooftops, clutching his briefcase like the Crown Jewels.
Reaching the ground floor, a chime sounded on his phone. Tucking his briefcase under one arm, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. A reminder.
Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie
Frick frack! He’d forgotten about the pastries. Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie was his most favourite in Paris, and after bringing his Lady multiple treats from there, he was quite sure he’d made her a fan too. He’d ordered a special selection of macarons for that evening, along with a bottle of champagne direct from the best vineyards in Champagne. Damn, his head wasn’t thinking straight. He’d had this prepared for months, how could he forget now? When it mattered.
Adrien tapped his phone. As long as there were no distractions from between here and his two points of call, he could still make it on time.
With a push through the doors, and a quick goodnight to the office’s security guards, he was heading down the street in the direction of the boulangerie. Feet moving, eyes on the prize, he could do this.
Thirty minutes later, he was back in his hotel suite, everything packed neatly into a picnic basket and an anxious walk that Plagg complained was making him feel sick. Plagg wasn’t the one about to ask a life changing question, he had nothing to worry about, Adrien on the other hand thought he was about to throw up.
His phone vibrated against the table.
M’Lady: I’ll be leaving in 5 minutes! Race you to the rooftop 😘
‘That stupid smile’s on your face again!’
Adrien turned to Plagg, dropping him an obnoxious wink. ‘She’s on her way.’
He moved to the picnic basket, double, then triple checking everything was in there. Champagne, flutes, pastries…little black box. His stomach flipped at the sight of it. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this? Maybe it was just a step too far?
Holding the basket in one hand, he ran through the plan once more.
Step one: Woo her!
Step two: Get down on one knee and make her his.
Step three: Back to the hotel suite and kiss…a lot!
Step four: Fall asleep then wake up and go to their wonderful vacation where they would have two blissful weeks together.
Adrien turned to glance at Plagg. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Let’s do this…oh, and Adrien? Good luck!’
Giving Plagg one last, grateful smile, Adrien called his transformation. With a quick swoop of his arms and a step out onto the balcony, Chat Noir sailed through the air with a yippee-ki-yay before pounding over the rooftops and towards their meet point.
As he landed he was happy to see she wasn’t there yet, which would give him time to set up the area. The picnic blanket, a couple (dozen) candles, the tasty treats. Everything needed to make this night special, and as he placed the pastries onto their plate — champagne flutes either side — the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle. She was close by — watching.
Dramatically, he stretched his arms over his head, and gave his back a little flex. He wasn’t exactly ‘muscular’ in the terms of The Rock, but he was toned, and had muscles in all the right places — at least that’s what he told himself during his morning affirmations and he knew the back of him was by far the best bit — curves and indents in all the right places.
He glanced over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes and catching the faint glimpse of red hiding behind a chimney. She was spying on him. She was actually spying on him. What a little weirdo!
Rear in the direction of his girlfriend, Chat Noir bent over, rearranging some of the items and giving his tush a little shake for good measure. He stood up, hands settled on his hips, his fingers stroking his chin.
‘Now,’ Chat announced, clapping his hands together and speaking a little louder than needed. ‘All I’m missing is my girlfriend. Humm…now where might she be?’
Glancing over his shoulder again, he found her straight away. His whole body tuned in to her every move. The red shimmered and moved a little, but he ignored it. Instead, he pretended he hadn’t seen her. That he had no idea she was still standing there behind a chimney. His eyes slowly drifted back to her, locking onto hers and dropping her a quick wink.
He bowed down in her direction then blew her a kiss which she caught and placed on her cheek, her lips stretching wide into the most beautiful smile.
There was no doubt in his mind that his future was with this woman, and he couldn’t wait to start it.
Ladybug
Chat Noir could always find her. No matter how deep and busy the crowd, or how far away she was, it was as though he could feel and sense her presence. And she loved it! It made her feel so safe, and so desired. He made her feel so safe and so desired.
But he made her feel a lot of things to be honest.
As she watched him prance around the rooftop like a goon, all she could think about was how it could be possible to love anyone more. Even on the days she wanted to send him sailing from the top of the Eiffel Tower, she still felt so utterly besotted she knew there would never be anyone else for her. She was so lucky he’d chosen her that even though they’d both had relationships when they were younger, they’d both still gravitated towards the other. It didn’t matter how much she tried to fight it, the desire to keep Paris — and him — safe, they were made to be with each other. It just worked!
Unclipping her yo-yo from her hip, Ladybug swung it out and attached it to the chimney pot in front of her. With a quick yank, she was sailing over to him, every tiny inch of her desperate to run and jump into his arms. It had been ten days too long, and she was desperate to make up on everything they’d missed.
‘Quite the show there, Kitty,’ she said, hands on her hips, head tilted and the smile never disappearing from her face.
‘Well,’ he smiled. ‘I do have the best audience.’
Chat was first to move, stepping forward and placing his hands on her waist, pulling her into his body with a smile which could outshine the moon.
‘Oh, yeah?’ she teased, her fingers slowly walking up his chest, her eyes still locked on his. They were glittering. More beautiful than any star fighting for dominance in the sky.
‘Completely. That litter of cats over there have been watching me for at least ten minutes. I think they see me as their role model.’
She laughed, smacking his thick, ridiculously wide, bicep, before pushing him away. Over the years he’d really built himself up, and though she would never have said she was all about muscles, she couldn’t deny the new grown up body of her partner was drool-worthy.
His stupid cat-like reactions kicked in and he moved forward before she could get too far. She was back tightly in his arms before she could blink.
Pressing her body tightly into his, he began to pepper tiny, tickly kisses wherever he could meet bare flesh. He moved over her face — nose, cheeks, eyes — before tilting his head and connecting with her ears, and that one spot on her neck he knew made her go weak.
He held her tight as her knees buckled from his touch. ‘Get off you goof!’ she chuckled, her palm finding his face and smothering him, pushing him off her.
Leaning his head back, everything about him dazzled. ‘Never!’ he exclaimed. He moved in again, continuing his attack.
A screeching laugh tore itself out of her mouth, and she was just about ready to yeet him from the rooftop.
‘Please stop!’ she howled, sounding like a wolf calling to the moon. Her demand was met with an increased intensity.
‘Tell me you love me!’
‘I love you!’ Laughter continued to come in thick unyielding waves, as her body squirmed for freedom. She hated that he knew all her ticklish spots, using them against her when he hadn’t got any of his own — any she could get her hands on at least.
‘Say you’re mine,’ he said between kisses, continuing his ferocious attack on her neck.
Stomach hurting, she attempted to gain enough oxygen to continue speaking. ‘I’m yours,’ she said through laughter. ‘I’m always yours!’
Abruptly, he stopped. The torturing finally done with. ‘And I’m yours.’
He reached up, trailing his fingers through the length of her hair, before wrapping it around his fist.
The fun and joy in his eyes transformed into something intense, something deeper — a wild storm gathering behind a calm sea. He looked like he wanted to eat her for all three courses and then go back for seconds. The pressure from his grip on her hair faded away as he let go. His sharp claws delicately brushing her scalp before moving down, through her hair and catching her back. She shivered, her body responding to his soft caress.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ he whispered, his hand settling on her waist, his thumb stroking tantalising circles against her hip.
‘You’re not too bad yourself…for a cat that is.’
He gave her a playful push backwards, away from him his face twisting into mock disgust.
‘I know where I’m not wanted.’ He huffed, crossing his arms and turning away, back facing her once again.
’No,’ she giggled, ‘you know I didn’t mean it that way.’
He shyly looked over his shoulder, his expression changing from pretend hurt to something sultry and sexy, confidence oozing from him. ‘If you’re sorry, you could come and make it up to me.’
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, moving to the picnic blanket and settling down in the middle. She patted the space next to her, Chat moving instantly to be at her side.
Sitting close to her, he rested back on one hand and turned his face to settle at her neck, slowly moving his nose up and along her neck. Her stomach fluttered from the close proximity, everything in her buzzing for him to continue and explore more. Chat was always so tactile, kissing and touching her as often as he could. She craved his touch when they were apart, these small intimate affections, only for her.
Kissing under her ear, he moved back. ‘I have some news.’
‘Good news, or bad news?’
He raised an eyebrow, almost looking concerned about her asking such a question. ‘Why would I do all of this and then give you bad news?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, the fluttering in her stomach now taking a b-line to the ground. ‘To soften the blow.’
They sat staring in silence for a moment, only the background noise of cars and chatter filling the air. Then, Chat started laughing, so melodic it caused an explosion of confetti in her heart.
‘I wanted to treat M’Lady to a nice romantic meal after being away from her for so long. Why else would I do this?’
‘Because you’ve found someone more your league — someone who’s not a chaotic mess and forgets to change out of her slippers some days.’
‘You’re perfect, Bugaboo! And slippers? What? Did you actually go to work in them?’
She crossed her arms with a mock glare. ‘Only once. Maybe twice. Fine—three times, but it was a busy week.’
Chat Noir grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. ‘Remind me to get you a pair with tiny bells. That way I’ll know when justice is shuffling toward me.’
‘Oh please, like you haven’t shown up to battles with bedhead and croissant crumbs in your mask.’
‘Touché,’ he said with a dramatic bow of his head. ‘But I still looked good doing it.’
She smirked, warmth sneaking into her expression. ‘You’re insufferable.’
‘And yet, here you are, letting me wine and dine you. Admit it, Bugaboo — you missed me.’
Her eyes softened, and though she tried to hide the smile tugging at her lips, she didn’t quite manage it. ‘Maybe a little.’
Chat Noir gasped, placing a hand over his heart. ‘Be still, my rapidly purring heart. She admits it!’
Ladybug rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t let it go to your head. I also missed the quiet.’
He leaned in, lips twitching with amusement. ‘You mean the awkward silence that hangs in the air when I’m not there to grace it with my charm?’
‘More like the blessed silence where I can hear myself think.’
‘Ouch,’ he said with a dramatic wince. ‘And here I was about to offer you the first choice of macaron.”
‘Oh? And what flavours did you bring, oh great feline of France?’
He smirked. ‘Ones personally selected by moi based on your mood swings.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘So… all raspberry?’
He grinned. ‘And a few passionfruit, for when you’re glaring at me but secretly impressed.’
‘Secretly? Please. I make no effort to hide my disappointment.’
‘Exactly why I keep coming back,’ he said, resting his chin on his hand. ‘You insult me like no one else can. It’s basically love poetry.’
She laughed despite herself, shaking her head. ‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘And yet you’re still sitting here, not swinging off into the night.’
‘Well, someone has to keep an eye on you.’
‘Oh, Bugaboo,’ he said, with faux sincerity, ‘you do care.’
‘Don’t push it. So this good news?’
‘I might have…got a new job…’
Everything in her perked up, anxious to know what came next. Was it ‘I have a job but it’s in Bermuda’? Or ‘I have a job and I’ll be off the grid for the next year’?
‘Yes?’ she urged, battling with the want to just grab him and shake it out.
‘And…’ he drawled.
Was he trying to kill her? These next few words changed everything. It could change where he lives, where she lives, if they’re going to try and make this work, if they need to reveal identities…
‘And?’ Her nerves were on edge, her body preparing for flight or fight mode. Her eyes bore into him, urging him to speed up and rip the plaster off.
He focused on her, his eyes intense, a whole new life on the verge of being revealed.
‘And it’s in Paris.’
Squealing loudly, she flung herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and knocking them both over onto the blanket. Now, it was her time to scatter the kisses!
Ladybug began to leave Chat Noir with his very own polka dots as she nipped and sucked across his neck, before marking his face with her red lipstick. She’d never seen such a wonderful pattern.
Chat flipped them over, turning them so Ladybug was caged underneath him with no possible way of escaping. He hovered over her, leaning down, his lips aiming for hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation, her stomach once again welcoming the fluttery feeling in her stomach.
Her boyfriend, the love of her life, was finally coming home to Paris. To her. It had been a long three years, Chat moving away to do his degree as she opted to start her own business. It was only thanks to the use of power ups that they were able to see each other so often.
‘No more time difference,’ she said, smiling up at him, her fingers reaching to thread through his hair. Her eyes opened to see his response.
He grinned, taking one of her hands and pressing her knuckle to his lips. ‘No more time difference.’
With their hands still tightly joined, he held them between them, right on his heart. He lowered more, this time completely closing the gap and taking her lips with his own. Her eyes fluttered shut again, closing off the world as she absorbed his kiss and the tingling sensation that came with it.
She felt like she’d had her first drink of water after a long drought. Taking every drop of him into her bones and savouring his taste like a woman possessed. A small hum left her throat as the kiss deepened, his hand finally loosening from hers and venturing all over her body. His leg moved, slipping effortlessly between her. His body pressed her harder into the rooftop. She trailed her hands down his back, skimming over his muscles and reaching down to grab —
‘Am I interrupting something?’
Fear had her activating her fight mode and with a rather aggressive shove, she sent Chat Noir not only off her but also off the building.
After a quick glance at their intruder and deciding they were no threat, she scrambled on her knees and glanced over the edge. He was on a balcony three stories below. In a hot tub. With two men who looked like their prayers had just been answered.
‘Sorry,’ Ladybug called down to them, throwing her yo-yo and wrapping it around Chat’s waist. With a pull of the string, her partner came sailing up with it and back onto the rooftop.
‘Nice guys,’ he said, shaking his body like an animal. ‘They invited me in to play Scrabble.’
‘Did you tell them you're a sore loser?’
‘Firstly, we both know that’s you. Secondly, I told them they wouldn’t cope with my impeccable spelling skills.’
‘Just like they wouldn’t be able to cope with your big—’
A sudden cough drew their attention back to their newly arrived visitor.
Chat was the first to acknowledge them. ‘Fu, my man, long time no see.’
Chat stepped forward, holding out his hand for their guardian. As always, Master Fu refused, instead his hands remained tightly locked behind his back.
‘He’ll do it one day,’ Chat said, voice lowering for her ears only.
She stifled a giggle before, greeting Master Fu herself. ‘To what do we owe this pleasure?’
‘You’re both being summoned.’
‘Summoned? Like into court?’ Chat crossed his arms over his chest, feet apart and standing strong. The epitome of power and ease.
‘To the Temple,’ Master Fu said, and the gasp that left her mouth was involuntary.
They knew this day would come. A lingering in the back of their minds since their defeat of Feast almost ten years ago. Who would have thought it would take so long?
‘When?’ Chat Noir asked.
Ladybug winced. She knew exactly what word was going to leave Fu’s lips, and the exact word that would destroy their plans going forward.
‘Now!’
Chapter 2
Notes:
A little birdie has told me that it’s someone special’s birthday, so even though this whole fic is dedicated to him, I want to add an extra dedication for this chapter!
Happy Birthday (blame Andrea 😄)
Chapter Text
Chat Noir
The first thing that hit Chat Noir was the smell. It was old, dusty, and spicy. Not exactly something he’d want bottled to sell in the next Gabriel aftershave line. It hadn't taken long to use Kaalki and transport over to the temple; it also hadn’t taken half as long for Chat Noir to realise they should have said no, and remained snuggled up on their rooftop.
It was stuffy here, stifling really. And without any breeze overhead it was only going to get worse.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Ladybug asked, walking alongside him down the narrow corridor. The temple wasn’t at all the grandeur he’d expected and nothing like Fu had led them to believe in the past. It was a mix and match of crumbling brick walls and long, immaculate depictions of past battles and holders. He wasn’t at all surprised to see his partner had made it onto one, and all that could be seen of himself was a tail disappearing off the painting.
He turned, raising one eyebrow to his Lady.
Sorry, she mouthed back, though he was unsure whether to believe her or not. She’d been treated like a goddamn goddess since they arrived. Not that he was jealous of the attention, he had that in his normal life in the spades, but a little thank you would have been nice from someone, anyone really.
They’d been repeatedly reminded to keep the relationship aspect low-key — especially in front of the guardians. Professionalism above all, Master Fu would say, and now the new order seemed even stricter about it.
Keep it tactical. Keep it clean. And absolutely no heart eyes in ancient temples.
Which was, frankly, easier said than done when you were in love with your partner and mildly obsessed with the way they looked in a suit made of magic leather.
Chat Noir was doing his best — truly. But standing next to Ladybug while she briefed the elders, sharp-eyed and radiant, her voice smooth with command? Torture.
He had to keep his eyes front, shoulders straight, expression neutral. Because if he even glanced at her, his pupils would absolutely betray him — instantly transforming into cartoon hearts.
And it wasn’t like he could help it. She had that focused look on her face, lips pursed slightly, that one strand of hair daring to fall out of her mask. It was criminal. She was criminal. Someone should arrest her.
He shifted awkwardly, forcing his gaze to the cracked stone tiles underfoot.
‘Is something wrong, Chat Noir?’ one of the guardians asked sharply.
‘Nope!’ he chirped, standing straighter. ‘Just deeply respectful. And focused. So very focused.’
Ladybug didn’t look at him, but he could feel the smirk curling on her lips.
Professional. Tactical. Emotionally composed.
Too bad all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her right then and there.
‘Nice place you have here,’ he said, following Fu and itching to grab Ladybug’s hand.
‘You need to keep that sarcasm under wraps, Chat Noir. They’re already weary of you.’ Fu didn’t even turn around to answer him, instead he just carried on leading down strange, narrow hallways.
Chat Noir sighed. ‘Anything else?’ he muttered. ‘I may as well just turn around and go home now. Why am I even needed here? Isn’t Ladybug enough?’
Fu didn’t even miss a step, instead, Chat was quite sure the old Master had started to walk faster. They passed a couple of rooms, everyone inside freezing as soon as they saw Ladybug, bowing down to her and glaring at him. For frick sake! He was made more welcome when he turned up at his father’s fashion show wearing a new shirt from Gucci.
‘Like I’d come here without you,’ she said, turning and smiling at him. ‘We’re a package deal. I told Master Fu that from the beginning.’
Chat Noir halted mid-step, her words still warming his insides — until a high-pitched gasp cut through the air beside him. He glanced over just in time to see a group of people in a nearby doorway shriek and scatter like pigeons.
They bolted down the corridor as if someone had yelled dragon, their footsteps echoing behind them.
‘…Okay,’ he said slowly, blinking. ‘Why does that keep happening?’
Ladybug just raised an eyebrow, clearly not surprised.
‘Seriously,’ he pressed, running a hand over his jaw. ‘Is it the stubble? Be honest. Do I need to shave my face? Is this a villain origin story in the making?’
She snorted, biting her lip to keep from laughing. ‘It’s not the stubble.’
‘Are we sure?’ he called after the fleeing group. ‘Because this is artisanal scruff, okay? Intentional! I moisturise!’
Ladybug shook her head, already walking ahead. ‘Maybe stop yelling about skincare in a sacred temple?’
He groaned and followed, muttering under his breath, ‘If I get kicked out of the guardian order over cheek fuzz, I’m suing.’
‘Please don’t,’ Ladybug replied, moving in closer so only he could hear what came next. ‘I like the roughness, and it’s always fun when you leave stubble burn marks.’
She dropped him a wink, and his chest let out a completely unintentional, utterly ridiculous purr. Not subtle. Not smooth. Just loud and rumbling like a motorboat at full throttle.
Ladybug burst into giggles.
The sound only made it worse, now the purring was vibrating his ribs like a one-man percussion section. Honestly, it was embarrassing. No wonder he had a bell. He was as domesticated as they came.
They turned another corner, and once again, the group ahead of them visibly panicked. There was a mad shuffle of shoes, a flurry of awkward gasps, and a chorus of, ‘Sorry! So sorry!’ as they darted out of the way like extras in a horror movie.
Chat glanced at Ladybug. She just shrugged and kept walking, calm as ever. He jogged a step to catch up.
‘Seriously, do I have something on my face?’ he whispered. ‘Is it demon energy? It’s demon energy, isn’t it?’
‘Or maybe it’s the fact that you purr like a lawnmower in heat,’ she teased, eyes twinkling.
‘A very sexy lawnmower,’ he muttered, lifting his chin.
A few more twists and turns led them deeper into the temple, the air growing cooler and quieter with every step. If they got left behind now, he was certain they’d never find their way back out again. It was a labyrinth designed by someone with a grudge against GPS.
Finally, Master Fu came to a stop outside a heavy wooden door — one with a gold plaque in the center and an intimidatingly large lock on the side. It radiated authority. This had to be it: the chamber where the new generation of Guardians waited.
Fu raised a hand and knocked — four slow, deliberate raps that echoed down the corridor like a countdown.
They stood in silence, waiting to be welcomed inside.
Well, Fu and Ladybug would be welcomed inside, of course. He was fully expecting to be met with a disapproving glare and a squirt from a water bottle.
Possibly holy water.
‘Is there a reason they’re looking at Chat like he personally offended their pet mouse?’ Ladybug asked. He smirked. What a way to phrase it. What was she going to say next? He was spraying his scent all over the place?
‘Black cats aren’t known to be all that… friendly. Most had changed over time and became evil.’ Fu didn’t even bother turning as he spoke, completely avoiding the fact he’d just dropped a loaded bombshell over them.
‘What?!’ Chat shrieked just as the door opened and the monk on the other side jumped back screaming. ‘What do you mean? Evil?’
‘Comes with the job,’ Fu said with a shrug, ignoring the monk cowering on the floor and continuing into the room.
‘So you’re telling me I’m going to turn evil?’
Fu shook his head. ‘No, not you. You haven’t got it in you.’
‘Well, geez, thanks for the motivation. For f—’
‘Language,’ Ladybug hissed out the corner of her mouth.
They continued following Fu. The path was lit with lanterns either side, a soft red glow coating the walkway and bouncing off the walls. Their reflections shimmered with the flicker of the flame, growing and shrinking as they headed deeper into the depths of the room. It was vast and circular. A hole in the roof the shape of the circle allowed a beam of light in and down to the centre. A monk — a master — settled on the rock, hovering slightly, legs crossed and eyes closed. He was on a platform, surrounded by five others, each containing another monk — meditating.
Fu stopped. The sound of humming bouncing around the atrium, soft and synchronised. Incense burning strong around the room, sage and something spiced, something otherworldly.
‘Are they here?’ The master in the middle spoke, and Chat could tell the question was aimed directly at Master Fu, even if his eyes were still closed.
Fu bent down into a bow, his eyes remaining up and in the direction of the others.
‘I have delivered you the ladybug and cat,’ he announced, Chat finding it hard not to scoff.
‘Delivered? What is this? Uber Superheroes?’ he whispered to Ladybug. She shushed him, placing a finger to her lips. Damn, even she was taking this seriously.
’Do we need to contain Plagg?’ One of the other monks asked.
Chat felt his hands clench. How could they think he was a villain? True, Feast was only unleashed a few years ago, but someone only needed to pull up a Paris news outlet to see how loved he actually was. He was the number two superhero in Paris and the number one bachelor (Ha! Take that Adrien Agreste).
‘Plagg is in safe hands. This cat holder is wise and a fighter for the greater good.’
He wanted to kiss Master Fu. Ignoring the many, many times the guy had knowingly shit on him, it was good to see he had his back where it mattered.
‘Very well!’ The master in the middle began to hover towards them. Legs still crossed and eyes tightly closed. It was freaky to say the least. Yes, they’d seen some weird stuff over the past nine plus years, but this was a whole over type of strange. This wasn’t someone possessed by random magical powers.
His legs straightened and he lowered himself down to the ground, eyes finally opening and causing Ladybug to take a step towards Chat. This master’s eyes were red. Not in a funky red eye situation, more of a hidden murderer situation.
‘Come and take a walk with me. Fu, stay here.’
Chat and Ladybug exchanged glances.
‘It’s okay,’ Master Fu said. ‘I’ll see you shortly.’
Nodding, they began to walk behind the Master, down a thin corridor and away from the lit room. This one was narrower than the rest, the roof slightly too low and causing him to bend so as to not hit his head. They continued in silence, the hard footsteps and steady breathing the only evidence of anyone down here.
Finally, they reached a chamber. Four pillows placed around a table not taller than Ladybug’s knee.
The Master indicated the cushions on the floor. ‘Take a seat.’
Chat itched to reach out to his partner. To hold her hand and steady both of their nerves. He was just glad they were here together, that no matter what happened they could fight their way out. The joys of being a badass!
They moved, sitting beside each other on the cushions. A fireplace he hadn’t even noticed whooshed to life beside him, scaring the hell out of him as it flickered through different blues and purples. Once again, red lanterns lit the room, but this time the walls were marked with carvings, engravings of sorts. Past ladybugs and cats depicted in red and gold battling the evilest of creatures from myths and legends: the hydra, Medusa, the seven deadly sins. Nothing there about them though. Nothing to say that their battles have been worth it.
‘Thank you for coming.’ The Master sat opposite them, pouring out steaming liquid into three shot sized glasses.
‘We didn’t really have a choice.’ Ladybug crossed her arms over her body.
The Master nodded again. ‘I am Su-Han, a celestial guardian of the Miraculous. Firstly, I would like to thank you for saving us from the sentimonster, Feast, Ms. Bug.’
Before he could speak up she beat him to it. ‘It was both of us. We’re a team, we work together.’
‘My apologies. We’re just not so used to having a cat with such… efficiency.’
What the hell did that mean? Everything inside him tensed, and he was quite sure his hands had started pulsing with power. Whether he’d caused that or Plagg was yet to be decided.
‘Chat Noir is more of a hero than I ever could be.’ He felt Ladybug’s hand find his leg under the table, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze.
‘Very well.’
‘Is that why you brought us here? To take my Miraculous?’ Chat Noir asked, his hand landing on top of his partners.
‘If he gives up his, then I give up mine. We’re a package deal.’
Su-Han nodded. ‘That works out a lot easier then.’
‘What does that mean?’ Chat shifted a little in his seat. They don’t actually want them to give up their Miraculous’ do they? ‘You know she’s been the best Ladybug you’ve ever had. Why would you risk it when Hawk Moth is still out there?’
’That’s the exact reason, Chat Noir. It’s been ten years since this battle started, yet you are still in a stalemate. Which is why we have an ultimatum for you. Either give up your Miraculous’ and we find someone more worthy to end the war, or cross into a spiritual soul bond. The bond will upgrade your powers and allow you to keep your Miraculous’.’
Ladybug shook her head, her eyebrows pulling together. ‘Wait, I’m confused. What is a spiritual soul bond?’
But Chat Noir understood. He knew exactly what that meant. ‘They want us to get married.’
Ladybug
This was meant to be the best week of her life. She was meant to go on holiday to an exotic place, all expenses paid, with her amazing boyfriend. But low and behold, Lady Luck was now at a smelly ancient temple being told if she wanted to keep her job she needed to marry her partner.
The marriage bit wasn’t the bad bit; it was the fact she was being told that was what she had to do.
‘Watch how many times you walk over that spot. This place is so old you’ll probably fall in and end up in some ancient Samurai tomb.’
She loved that Chat Noir — her partner, her boyfriend — was trying to help her, that he was trying to make her feel better, but that still didn’t stop the fact that someone else was telling her what to do. Not only that, the marriage came with one huge clause in their contract: No identities to be revealed.
‘Marrying me isn’t that bad, Bugaboo. I swear I’m house trained. I can pee in the toilet and everything.’
Ladybug sighed, walking over to the strange cot bed he was sitting on and collapsing down next to him. She took his hand, threading their fingers together. He seemed so unsure at the moment, like he was about to lose her. But it would take a hell of a lot more than this.
‘Marrying you isn’t the problem, Kitty. To be honest, it would be a dream come true.’
‘That’s nice to hear.’ She could hear his smile without looking, the warmth in his words. The love.
‘Well, I am a catch.’ She took the moment to look at him, dropping him a quick wink.
The next breath he took was like it was the first inhale of oxygen since they arrived here. ‘It’s the fact they’re making us do it. I mean, I’m not going to lie, I had my nails especially done for our vacation because I thought you might have proposed. But that doesn’t mean you have to propose just because some old man who experienced a Thanos blip told you to.’
Chat chuckled, and slid his hand from hers. He began rummaging around in his pocket before pulling his hand back out, clenched in a fist.
‘What if I wanted to because I wanted to?’
‘Then it would be a dream come true.’ She smiled at him widely, because there was nothing else she would love more than to be married to this man. She might have joked she was the catch, but anyone could tell she was the one shooting above her league. Beautiful, funny, kind, caring and the body of a Greek god. Yep! She had hit the jackpot to have him fall in love with her.
Chat shuffled a little, messing with something in between his hands. ‘What if we did it? What if we got married?’
‘I told you, I’m not doing it because Grandpa out there told me to so I could keep my earrings.’
‘What if we did it our way?’ He moved again, dropping down in front of her on one knee. ‘How about if I propose to you right here, right now, because I’ve had a ring in my drawer for three weeks and had the whole thing setup tonight to do it.’
‘Chat?’ Her voice was shaky as she said his name. She couldn’t actually be this luck, could she?
‘How about if I tell you I am so madly, and deeply in love with you, I couldn’t bear to live another day without knowing you were going to be mine forever, that I have worried every single day that you would find someone better—‘
‘That’s a long time to worry, Chaton.’
‘Tell me about it,’ he chuckled. ‘I love you so much. You’re all I think about, and all I want to think about. I am consumed by you: heart, body and soul. So Ladybug, please, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Stretching out his clenched fist, he turned it over and opened his palm. A small, nondescript ring was sitting pretty in the palm of his hand. ‘Because of not revealing, and I didn’t want to pressure you, I got you the most bought engagement ring in Paris. I thought this way it would blend in. You could even wear it on your right hand so nobody knows you’re engaged until you want to announce it.’
Tears welled in her eyes. He’d thought of everything. And even though the ring was ordinary, one seen as costume jewellery to the many women of Paris, it was the thought behind it that had her heart sparkling. It was a delicate white gold, thin, with a cluster of pink cubic zirconias in the middle. It was worn by Juleka Couffaine during Milan fashion week and since then everyone wanted it. They’d been mass produced in their thousands.
‘I promise this is just a holding ring. I’ll get you a better one in the future.’
Taking the ring out of Chat Noir’s hands, she slid it onto her finger and smiled. ‘It’s perfect. You’re perfect.’
‘So, is that a yes?’
‘It’s one hundred percent a yes! I love you!’
He stood up, sweeping her in his arms and pressing a long drawn out kiss to her lips. Marrying her Kitty was going to be the greatest day of her life, but she was doing it her way. She’d only have this day once, and she was going to make sure she was in charge.
Chapter Text
Chat Noir
‘We accept!’
Ladybug stood, arms folded, as she glared down at Su-Han. The guardian was standing at the table where they had left him, and Chat Noir stood alongside her.
Su-Han glanced between them both. ‘You understand the rules that go with this.’
Chat rolled his eyes. ‘No fun, no enjoyment, oh, and we sell our souls to you.’
Ladybug smacked him on the upper arm but he knew she was feeling as crap about this as he was. Revealing had always been a big thing they’d discussed, a means to an end. Yet, here they were agreeing to be together for what could be forever, without any hint of them knowing the other’s identity.
Su-Han looked less than impressed by his most current outburst.
‘We agree to the bond,’ Ladybug announced, ‘but we’re doing it our way.’
‘And that means?’ Su-Han asked, remaining seated on his cushion.
‘We get married back in Paris. As part of the ceremony, we will take part in the ritual. We allow the other holders to be part of the ceremony so they are in the loop as well. We work as a team now, we all have to be included.’
Su-Han’s face turned red, his eyebrows looking like they were going to come flying off his face and slap him hard across the cheeks. ‘You want to hold one of those mating ceremonies?’
Chat shrugged. ‘There might be some mating in the evening, but I’m thinking more along the lines of a party…and cake.’
‘You want to ditch our traditions just so you can have some…cake?’
Chat smiled. ‘I want to have my cake and to eat it too.’
‘What Chat is trying to say,’ Ladybug interrupted, ‘not so elegantly, is that we would both enjoy a proper wedding day, if we’re going to be stuck together for the rest of our lives.’
‘Stuck together? Way to make a guy feel good about themselves, Bugaboo.’ The look she gave him was pretty clear, stop or be stopped. It wasn’t a hard choice. He closed his mouth, mimicking zipping it up and throwing away the key.
Su-Han reached out to play with the cup in front of him. ‘The ceremony must be done correctly. We cannot allow you to just have a normal civil ceremony.’
Oh man, how he wished he could speak, but instead he stood there, hoping Ladybug would express herself in such a way he’d feel like she was expressing for him too.
There would be nothing normal about the two of them getting married. For one, they would pretty much be wearing fancy dress costumes, therefore it would be a cat marrying a bug in a ceremony they weren’t even sure would be legal in Paris. They were literally playing this off the cuff. And luckily they were both on the same page.
‘Then you can come and do that,’ she said. ‘We get married properly then you can officiate the ceremony of the spiritual bond. We both get what we want and you don’t have to worry about whether it is done correctly or not.’
Su-Han looked unsure, and Chat was glad she’d finally called the guardian out. They needed to keep pushing, to persuade him that this was the best option for all of them.
‘You know as much as we do, that you don’t have time to train up new heroes, to have two unskilled fighters out there when we’re approaching the endgame. They won’t have the skills or powers we have, and I’m sure Tikki and Plagg wouldn’t be too impressed putting two rookies into the battlefield,’ Chat Noir said, hoping the guardian was taking this into account.
It had been almost ten years, ten years of him and his Lady working together. A new team would take them backwards, giving Hawkmoth the advantage to win and steal the Miraculous. They all knew this wasn’t the best option, not if they finally wanted this finished.
Ladybug smiled as Su-Han stood and began pacing. They’d done it. They’d made him reconsider. With her arms still crossed, Chat observed in silence as Ladybug extended her fist toward him. His own met hers with a quiet thud, the only sound in the room as Su-Han continued his restless movement. Low murmurs escaped his lips, barely audible as he paced back and forth, lost in thought.
‘If we do this, will you agree to our terms?’ Su-Han stopped moving and made his way towards them, Ladybug nodding.
‘No reveal, and beat Hawkmoth as soon as possible—’
‘Once we get our power upgrades,’ Chat added, Ladybug glancing at him and giving a singular nod.
He’d already had to give up his proposal, their reveal, and the opportunity to live a carefree life together. He needed something in return.
‘Yes,’ Su-Han nodded, ‘as soon as the bond is set you will have the access to powers far beyond what you have at the moment.’
‘And you’ll leave us alone to get on with it?’ Ladybug asked.
Su-Han once again nodded. ‘As you wish.’
‘Good.’ Chat Noir moved towards Su-Han, holding out a hand in a peace offering. ‘We have a deal then.’
Su-Han studied his hand, his eyebrows creasing into the centre of his forehead.
‘You need to shake it,’ Chat Noir said, mimicking the action alone. Su-Han looked at it again, still not moving his own. Embarrassed, Chat Noir dropped it to one side and turned to Ladybug for some kind of support.
‘So, that’s sorted. I guess we can leave now?’ Ladybug asked, hitching a thumb over her shoulder towards the door.
‘The cat can go. I need to have a word with you alone, Miss Bug.’
Chat Noir felt his stomach land somewhere in his feet. Alone? Why would they need to speak to her alone? Once again he felt the panic rise in him. Were they going to tell her he wasn’t good enough? That she needed to ditch him and find a new, more worthy partner?
She moved towards Chat Noir, her hand resting on his arm as his mind raced through every possible thing that was about to go wrong.
‘It’ll be okay,’ she whispered, stretching up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘We’re in this together; that’s where our strength lies. There’s no me without you.’
She pressed a quick kiss on his nose and everything inside him warmed.
‘I’ll see you soon.’
He couldn’t speak, his eyes locking on Su-Han, trying to read every movement in his body.
Turning, he slowly stalked his way out of the room and back towards where they’d left Fu.
His mentor was there, meditating on a rock just as the others had when they arrived there earlier that day. Chat watched. Fu looked so peaceful, like he belonged there, and maybe he did. Maybe instead of coming back to Paris with them, he’d stay here and leave them all alone.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, Chat Noir called Fu, watching as his mentor opened his eyes and looked straight at him.
‘The decision has been made?’ Fu asked, Chat Noir only able to nod in response. He seemed to be losing his ability to talk, instead using his mannerisms to communicate. Maybe after all this he would become a mute, or instead of talking he would just mime his way through life.
Lowering down onto the plinth, Fu made his way back over to Chat Noir and glanced behind him. ‘Where is Ladybug?’
Finally finding his voice, Chat pushed down the lump forming in his throat. ‘They asked her to stay.’ His voice was gruff, almost like he hadn’t used it for a while.
‘Did they tell you why?’
‘No,’ Chat responded, turning his own attention to the corridor he’d just vacated. ‘But I have an idea what it might be about.’
Ladybug
Ladybug watched as Chat Noir walked away, her body tensing with each step he took. They weren’t separated a lot, not since she’d made Master Fu bring Chat in with her training too. She continued to stare even after he’d rounded the corner.
‘Come,’ Su-Han said. ‘Sit.’
She followed the command, sitting back on the cushions and waiting for the celestial master to join her. Even though it felt like they had won with the spiritual bonding, she was certain it wasn’t over yet. That the guardian had something else he wanted to talk to her about, another demand of just her. She sat, keeping the pent up nervous energy settling in her stomach, making sure that she was sat unfazed and strong, without fear.
Her fingers twitched a little as she placed them in her lap. Usually she’d have Chat there to sit with her, to encourage her and give her that support to stand her ground and fight back.
Su-Han studied her. ‘Thank you for staying.’
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her eyes never leaving his as she encouraged him to continue.
In her mind, she began to run through possible questions and stockpiling answers. There was no way she was being caught out. She was ready for anything he could throw her way.
‘How well do you know your partner?’
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she locked eyes on the guardian as she responded, her voice strong. ‘After almost ten years, I feel like I know him quite well. Why?’
Calmly, Su-Han joined his hands and placed them on the table. ‘You know the stories of the black cats, I’m sure. Have you used your kwagatama?’
‘I have spoken to a couple of holders from past years, yes. Why? What does this have to do with Chat Noir? If anything he has shown great loyalty and commitment to his Miraculous. Plagg adores him, and so do I.’
Su-Han didn’t move. Instead, he stayed still in that exact position almost as though waiting for her to speak again. The silence was deafening. Neither willing to break the stare off to speak. She was stubborn, it was a well known trait of hers, and there was no way she was speaking first, not when he was sitting there belittling her partner.
Time ticked by. The faint sounds from beyond the corridors every now and then making it into their room. The fire crackled in the stone fireplace, casting dancing shadows along the wall.
Finally, Su-Han spoke again. ‘You understand the terms of this ritual? You and Chat Noir cannot, at any point, know each other’s identities. The risk is too high when there are enemies still out there.’
Ladybug nodded. ‘We understand.’
‘Very well. There are just a couple more things we need to talk about. For one, the spiritual bond must be made official.’
‘Meaning…what?’
‘You must consummate the marriage the evening of the ceremony.’
Su-Han had spoken the words like he’d just told her she needed to make sure she kissed the groom.
‘And how do you suggest we complete that task if we can’t reveal. I’m sorry but I’m not…I’m not…’ she took a deep breath. ‘I’m not doing that without seeing who it is I’m actually doing it with.’
‘I understand your worry Ladybug. Come, take a walk back to Chat Noir with me.’
He stood, Ladybug following the lead straight after. They headed for the corridor Chat left earlier, the lanterns on the walls flickering to life as they moved back towards the outskirts of the temple.
‘Certain Miraculous have a power down mode, yours and the cat’s being the main ones.’
‘Power down? What does that do?’
They turned the corner, arriving back into the meditating room. Where the trainee guardians were floating before was now empty. The room echoed as they walked, and void of life.
‘The kwamis will tell you the code words, but it’ll allow you to wear nothing but the glamour and your masks.’
‘What about the kwamis? Won’t they grow tired keeping us transformed for so long?’
Su-Han began to move again, walking over to where a book lay on a stand. ‘The kwamis will power down into half hibernation with you. I suggest you have at least a couple breaks a day to free them and feed them. After all, if the Butterfly strikes you need to be ready.’
Ladybug nodded. That made perfect sense. They both worked, so at least that gave the kwamis a break and it would be an excuse to not stay holed up in bed all day everyday with him…because knowing they could be together, together was more wonderful than the thought of being married to him. They’d been living in a swirling pool of sexual tension for almost ten years (five of those almost being unbearable!) so really it was about time they would…well…
Her face heated at all the thoughts running wild through her mind. Would he have a toned body? She knew the fit of his suit left very little to the imagination, but did that overly define him? And what would he look like in the morning? Would his hair be fluffy? Did he take longer than her in the shower? She could totally imagine he did.
‘So?’
Ladybug’s thoughts came to a screeching halt as she realised Su-Han was talking to her. Thinking about what lay under Chat Noir’s suit had completely distracted her to the point she had no idea what he’d just said.
‘Sorry?’
Su-Hun’s eyebrows formed one long one as he studied her. ‘This is important so make sure you listen up. Any negative energy from the cat holder and you must take his Miraculous straight away. They are most prone to turn against the greater good so you need to be confident you can stop him.’
Ladybug nodded confidently, because she knew she would never have to do such a thing. If there was one thing she knew about her partner, it was that he was pure of heart. He would never turn against the Miraculous and she would bet her entire existence on him never turning on her.
‘You have my word.’
Chapter Text
Marinette
Marinette had been looking forward to this break away for weeks, and now she just couldn’t wait to get back home. Sitting on the bed in her small room at the temple, she considered everything she needed to do when she arrived back in Paris. Firstly, she would need to sort out her dress. There was no way she would be married in an off the rack gown, and luckily she’d been designing her wedding dress for years, so there was no problem there.
Next she would have to speak to the other holders letting them know exactly what was going on and why…which would lead to a very interesting conversation with Alya who would most likely want an exclusive interview for the Ladyblog. Chat would definitely be up for that, so it was something they could most likely consider. It would also help boost the morale of the citizens of Paris—after all, they’ve wanted this marriage as much as she did.
She considered what to do about her parents. It was something she couldn’t quite work out yet. Yes, it would be amazing if she could tell them, but if she couldn’t reveal to her soon to be husband (cue the girlish squeals) then unfortunately her parents would have to wait too. It wasn’t like she lived with them anymore, anyhow.
Which brought her to the final problem. Where would she be actually living? She didn’t want to jump the gun and just invite herself, but it seemed almost certain that herself and Chat would live together…if they could live together that was?
She knew he was moving back, he’d told her earlier that evening. But he never said exactly where he was moving to.
Was he moving back in with his father? Ladybug knew his mother wasn’t around so it would make perfect sense if he did. But then again she knew he was successful and that he came from money (the many gifts he’d given her over the years reeked of wealth). Was he coming back to live alone?
Pacing her room, she wished she could just leave and go and see him. The guardians had frowned on that, though. Apparently whilst they were here they needed to remain focused. That their powers needed time to develop without interference of the other. Personally, she thought they were just laying the law down because they’d managed to get them to agree to changing an age-old tradition. Stupid really considering they wanted them to get married and make sure they followed it up with a night of …
She shook herself, fanning her hands in front of her face to try and cool down the intense heat she’d just started emitting.
‘You’re thinking about it again?’ Tikki phased through the door with a judgemental look on her face, and who could blame her, she was exactly right.
‘I can’t stop,’ Marinette said, moving back to the bed and sitting down. She grabbed her phone from off the bedside table and pulled up Chat’s messages from earlier that day. Chat had been taken for extra training whilst Marinette was locked away in her room with a bowl of vegetable stew…or something very similar to that. Tikki had been with Plagg having a mentoring session with Fu which had left Marinette to do only one thing. Think of Chat Noir, and all the fun and exciting things they’ll soon be able to do.
The room she was in consisted of a cot bed, a bedside table, and a small room with a toilet, a sink, and an attempt at a shower. She wasn’t entirely sure what to call it. It wasn’t exactly a bathroom, but it wasn’t a shower room either. It was just a room.
‘Do you think he’s finished yet?’ Marinette asked, tapping her finger against the side of her phone.
Tikki flew over to the bed and rested on the pillow. She looked exhausted. ‘Probably.’ She let out a yawn so loud, Marinette was worried she’d taken all the oxygen. ‘There was no one around when I came back.’ Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing becoming more and more shallow. Watching a kwami fall to sleep was quite the viewing. It also made Marinette feel very jealous. Examining her phone again there was only one option: send Chat Noir a message and pray that she had a signal.
Ladybug: Hey Hot Stuff, how did it go?
Standing again, Marinette paced the room, her phone clutched tightly in her hands. It remained silent, even after she’d checked the volume and the signal time and time again. Three bars…not brilliant but certainly not awful either.
‘Come on,’ she said, willing her phone to ring back. She needed to talk to him, wanted to talk to him. They barely went an hour without some sort of message or meme.
Finally, her phone buzzed. The message from her partner appeared on her phone.
Kitty: Next time I complain about sparring practise with you, please remind me that they are the most fun thing in my life
She smiled. His day was obviously going as well as hers.
Ladybug: You love getting physical with me…why would you hate sparring? 😔
Kitty: I love getting physical with you! Though, still not in the way I would like to
Ladybug: What if that could soon be real?
Kitty: What? Sparring?
Me: No! Getting physical…in the way you want to…
The dots on the screen were as unsure as she was by all this power down information. Marinette waited, biting her lower lip as she waited for the response. What was he thinking? Would he be disappointed and think he would need to be blind folded? Perhaps he’d like that, he seemed more kinky than she did. The sound of a message coming through pulled her attention to her phone again.
Kitty: Physical? In the way I want? Have I just died and gone to heaven?
Taking a deep breath, she began to type.
Ladybug: Su-Han told me about a certain…benefit to the spiritual bonding
Kitty: A bigger benefit to being Mrs Noir? Tell me, oh great one, what would be greater than taking my name?
Ladybug: Who said I was taking your name? I think Chat Bug sounds better
Kitty: It certainly does…for our first born!
Ladybug snorted. Really? He was going there.
Ladybug: Our first born? And how do you suppose we create a first born?
Kitty: Simple really! Do a little dance… you know, make a little love… well, pretty much get down tonight
Ladybug: OMG! Really? I’m facepalming so hard right now I’ve knocked myself into 1996!
Kitty: Ah, 1996! Such a sad year for Take That fans…
Ladybug: Keep going and I’ll end up facepalming myself all the way back to the dinosaurs! 🦖
Kitty: 😆 Okay, I’ll stop! So what did you want to tell me?
Ladybug: After the ceremony is complete we will be able to power down
Kitty: Meaning?
Ladybug: You can finally see what’s under the suit!
Chat Noir
Chat Noir was going to dissolve into a puddle of goo on the floor. There was no way he would be that lucky. Seeing what was under the suit? It was like his Christmas and birthday was coming all at once. If marrying her wasn’t enough to send him into cardiac arrest, seeing her naked would definitely do it.
Chat Noir: Under the suit as in clothing or…
His heart pounded aggressively in his chest. Please say nothing, please say nothing…
M’Lady: Nothing!
A small gurgle escaped his throat. He could punch the air!
‘What’s made you so red?’ Plagg asked, flying over to hover close to Adrien.
Adrien tilted the phone to Plagg allowing him to read the messages. The kwami shrugged. ‘Interesting that you’ve finally been told about that.’
‘Did you know that happens?’
Plagg rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I did. We’ve been around for centuries. Did you think you were the first to go through the spiritual bonding?’
Adrien eyed Plagg cautiously. ‘So, you’re telling me you knew about this? About the whole ten year thing and never thought to tell anybody.’
‘Don’t blame me, Kid. I just follow Tikki’s orders.’
‘You don’t follow anyone’s orders.’
Plagg looped around, swooping in front of Adrien’s face. ‘When it comes to things like this then I have to take Sugar Cube’s lead. You know she’s the boss.’
Adrien laughed, sitting down on the bed and removing his shoes. ‘You’re such a sap, you know. You think no one sees it, that this grumpy exterior is the real Plagg, but you’d do anything for Tikki. You’re very transparent when you want to be.’
Plagg huffed, flying off and out of the door.
Adrien’s phone pinged a message again.
M’Lady: They’re coming around to check we’re asleep. So I’ll see you in the morning. Love you fiancé. I can’t wait to marry you ❤️
The smile was wide as it stretched the entire length of his face and he was glad that Plagg wasn’t here to see it.
Kitty: Goodnight, my love! ❤️ See you in training tomorrow.
Adrien had just blown out his candle as a knock sounded through the door.
‘Lights out, Chat Noir.’
Whoever was out there spoke his name with venom, almost as if it was an order and he was about to turn against them. He wasn’t sure why they had so much animosity towards him. He’d never done anything to make them think that he would turn against the Miraculous, yet here they were, treating him guilty for a crime he hadn’t committed.
Swinging his legs up onto the bed, he pulled the woolly blanket over him and sighed to the ceiling. He was about to marry the love of his life and never tell her who he was. He’d always dreamed of taking her on magical dates, of introducing her to his family and friends, and presenting her at galas like he’d won at life. But these were all fantasies, added extras to the wonderful life they could live together because they loved each other, and with or without the masks that love would continue…who cared that he would never know her name?
Sleep wouldn’t come easily that night, not as the thoughts of what could have been continued to swirl through his mind.
*****
When dawn broke through the small window in his room, Adrien was sure he’d only had an hour's sleep. It felt like that, anyway. The dreams and nightmares had plagued him; Ladybug becoming fed up with their deal and finding love elsewhere, love with someone’s face she could see. Then there were the dreams about their children, each born as a weird mutation with a mask glued to their face. They were teased through school, bullied to a point they left home and never returned.
He dreamt of his father’s reaction, the complete disbelief at his stupidity of marrying someone he didn’t know, someone who might not even be real.
Then he dreamt of unconditional love, of nights cuddled up to the most wonderful woman in the world, of picnics on rooftops and cooking together in their home. Of a spare bedroom which would transform from a study to a nursery, a tiny baby with her black hair and his green eyes. Small delicate hands and teeny, tiny baby clothing.
But that was too early to be thinking about that. He wanted to enjoy time with his fiancée first, then his wife. They were still young and although they were bound together forever, they didn’t need to rush everything straight away.
As his thoughts carried him away to destinations he wanted to take his lady too, a body threw him against the wall.
‘Good hit, M’Lady.’ His voice was raspy as he tried to gather his breath.
‘What’s wrong with you? Your head is all over the place.’
He shrugged. ‘Just thinking,’ he said, rubbing the place on his ribs where he’d taken the brunt of the impact.
‘Thinking about what?’ Ladybug asked, moving forward and replacing his hands with her own. She rubbed up and down his body and he thought he was going to explode from the intensity of what he was currently feeling.
‘I was thinking about how wonderful it is to spend our anniversary sparring. Nothing says I love you more than a roundhouse kick to the head.’
He smiled. She didn’t. Instead, she gave him that look. The look which made him want to turn and run in the opposite direction. She hadn’t believed him in the slightest.
‘I was thinking…erm…just where we’re going to live. You know, I’m just moving back to Paris and haven’t quite chosen somewhere yet. How about I choose somewhere for the two of us and you move in with me?’
Her expression was neutral, and he was about to shake her to get an answer out. He shifted his weight from side to side, the anxiousness of waiting almost becoming far too much.
‘Okay.’
‘What?’
Ladybug giggled. ‘I said okay. I would be honoured to move into your apartment.’
He tried to play it cool, even when everything inside him was wanting to Congo line around the temple and all the way back to France. ‘Excellent, that's awesome. Like cool. Really cool. Yeah, good.’
Sniffing, he wiped under his nose and crossed his arms. He looked down into her blue eyes which danced under the weight of his gaze.
‘I love you,’ she suddenly announced, launching herself forward and into his arms.
‘I love you too, Bugaboo. I can’t wait to live with you and to be with you. I just wish this all wasn’t so rushed.’
Nodding, Ladybug kissed him delicately on his nose. ‘I know this isn’t exactly what you would have wanted, it’s not top of my list either, but I’m marrying you. We’re going to live together and grow old together and to me that is perfect. I don’t want a big wedding, I want a marriage and I want it with you.’
‘You really have a way with words, M’Lady.’
She chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair. ‘I learned from the best.’
Chat Noir allowed her to coax him in, pulling his lips down to meet hers and kissing her with intense passion of belonging.
He might not have had the vacation he wanted with the love of his life, but in just over a week he would be married to her, and they would have all the time in the world.
Chapter Text
Adrien
The day had been a continuous bout of disappointment. Adrien had been to no less than twelve different apartments but nothing felt right. He wasn’t even sure what right was anymore. They’d been to penthouses, townhouses, mansions, hotels, gothic buildings, new buildings, extremely old buildings, and yet everything was just… okay. He always dreamt he would walk into a place and know in an instant that was where he wanted to live. Whether it was because Ladybug wasn’t there with him to choose, he didn’t know.
They’d decided he would take the lead on this, sign the apartment in his name, and she was going to keep her own. They thought it might be the best idea to have the two separate spaces just in case. Both of them could afford it, so why not?
As they entered apartment number eighteen, the realtor looked ready to plunge Adrien’s head in one of the sleek designed bathroom toilets. He knew she was excited to be with him at the beginning of the day, after all, anyone their age would be able to remember the time Adrien Agreste was a world renowned fashion model. However, that slowly changed as she became frustrated with his choices.
The kitchen was too big. The kitchen was too small. The view was terrible. The windows were too wide. There was no secondary bedroom. There were too many bedrooms. He was driving himself insane with all of this, to a point he was just going to tell his father he was Chat Noir, he had to marry Ladybug to defeat the evil man who was dressed in way too much purple, and they were going to move into the manor with him and Nathalie.
It didn’t take too long for Plagg to put an end to that dream.
The woman who’d patiently taken him around Paris pushed open the door to the final apartment on her list.
‘I’ll be in the kitchen waiting for you to tell me what’s wrong.’ As she wandered off Adrien rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. The poor woman needed a hefty thank you commission when he finally signed on the line.
Making his way into the main living area, he scanned the room. It was light, with two classic windows separated by a French door opening out onto a small balcony area. Two iron chairs sat there, with a circular table in between. A bonus, they were high enough that nobody would see them sitting around in their masks. All the buildings around it were a few floors shorter.
It was the perfect combination of quaint and modern, and one of the cheapest in his range. Not that money mattered. The room was small, but cosy, perfect for just the two of them.
He continued through the hallway where three doors lay at the end. Usually this agent would come with him, but right now he wouldn’t be surprised if she’s found a bottle of wine in the past owner’s rack and was making the most of it.
Turning to his right, Adrien pushed through the door into the main bedroom. Simple. Nice views of the city. En-suite bathroom and walk in closet. That ticked all of his boxes.
Leaving the bedroom, he pushed open the door to the bathroom, again, everything was as needed and of good quality, they wouldn’t need to do anything else once they’d moved in.
Finally, he headed into the third and final bedroom. Again, the windows looked out on impressive views of Paris, but it was what was in there which really made him stall. A crib sat in the corner, a small mobile twirling around above it complete with the heroes of Paris. It was like a beacon, calling them in. A little slice of something telling him this should be their home.
The window in the nursery had a small bay, cushions set up on the small bench to sit and take in the view. It was day now, and he could only imagine how beautiful it looked at night.
It would be perfect for studying. A small space they could make their own, a his and hers side. He couldn’t help chuckling as he imagined them both arguing who got which side of the room, who would have the view and who would be stuck facing the wall.
Out of all the apartments he’d seen this was it. This is where they belonged.
Heading back out to the kitchen area, he hovered in the doorway. The kitchen was connected to the dining room, a space big enough for a dining table and his piano. This really did have everything.
‘Okay,’ his realtor sighed, ‘let me have it. What’s wrong with this one? Not pink enough for you? Or is the window a millimetre too small?’
‘Nothing,’ Adrien said matter-of-factly, a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘I…what?’
Adrien laughed moving forward towards her. ‘This one is perfect. I’ll take it.’
She looked like she was going to grab him and kiss him, and to be honest after the day he’d put her through he wouldn’t have held it against her.
‘Quick,’ she said, pulling her tablet out of her bag. ‘Sign this before you change your mind.’ She tapped around on the screen for a while, before handing out the tablet and the pen.
Laughing, Adrien did exactly what she said. ‘So, when can I move in?’
‘The current occupants have a moving van ready for the end of this week, so shall we say the weekend?’
‘Sounds great,’ Adrien smiled. ‘I can’t wait to show my fiancée.’
The realtor snapped the tablet case shut and shoved it back into her bag. ‘She must be a very patient woman.’
‘You have no idea.’
Walking him out the apartment, the realtor shook his hand before heading off down the road. A slight spring in her step.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he brought up his lady’s number.
Chat Noir: We have a home! I can’t wait for you to see it! Love you ♥️
With a spring in his step, he headed off down towards the hotel he was currently staying in.
He couldn’t wait to see Ladybug later, to tell her all about it and his ideas. This was real! And it was more wonderful than he ever could have imagined.
Marinette
Sitting here, in this chair, was more real and more scary than Marinette could have ever imagined.
‘So, you’re just going to marry him? In a week’s time?’ Alya sat facing her, her eyes wide and face tinged with red.
Marinette nodded. ‘It’s part of the deal we made with the Guardians.’
‘It’s stupid, that’s what it is.’ Alya huffed and sat back in her chair, her hands running over her face before she sat straight up again. ‘And you can’t ever know who he is. Like you’re banned from knowing your husband's real identity.’
Marinette nodded again.
‘You’re insane! Both of you are insane! What are you going to do if you want kids? Never show them your face? This just doesn’t make any sense, Marinette!’
‘I know it seems crazy, but we’ve both thought this through and want to do it. As far as we’re concerned it’s us… forever.’
‘But you don’t know who he is! I’ve never heard anything so stupid!’
Out of all the ways Marinette had expected this to go, this was nothing at all like what she’d thought. Alya had been her biggest supporter when it came to Ladynoir. She could still remember the day it came out as official and Alya threw a party in their lycée. Why the hell was she now so against it?
‘You’ve never had a problem with it before,’ Marinette said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her friend.
Sometimes she could never win with Alya, because most of the time even when you won, you lost! She wondered how Nino kept up with the girl. He must always feel like he’s walking on eggshells.
‘You weren’t marrying him!’ She stood up, arms out to the side as though it was the most simple thing ever.
‘So it’s fine when we’re making out on rooftops, but not when we’re living together and doing normal things.’
Alya huffed, pacing up and down the room. ‘Why don’t you get it? You’re marrying someone you don’t even know the name of.’
Marinette sighed. Standing up and making her way over to her best friend. She blocked Alya’s march and took her hands in her own. ‘Listen to me, Als. Chat Noir isn’t just some random person; he’s the person who knows me the most in the universe. I’ve known him for almost ten years, and five of those we’ve been in a serious relationship.’
‘But you don’t know his name, Marinette.’
She rolled her eyes, barely holding it together, her energy pulled tight just to stay calm.
‘No, I don’t know his name. But here’s what I do know.
‘I know I love him—and he loves me, fiercely. He’s brilliant, driven, unwavering. He challenges me, believes in me, stands by me like no one else ever has. And right now? He’s out there making sure our future — our home — is everything we’ve dreamed of.
‘I know he’d choose chocolate over sweets any day, and ice cream over croissants without hesitation. He has five names and only tolerates one. He’s stepping into a job he despises, because it’s the family business, and he’d walk through fire for the people he loves.
‘He wants a family — three, maybe four kids — but the thought of seeing me in pain terrifies him. He’s wealthy, yes, but only spends what he earns, not what’s been handed to him. He went to university in London not just for the academics, but to prove he could stand on his own.
‘He keeps a little notepad where he ranks Akuma villains by outfit and renames them all — better names, smarter ones. And he hates being late so much that every clock in his house runs ten minutes fast.
‘So no. I may not know his name. But I know him. And that’s enough.’
Her chest heaved when she’d finished, Alya remaining frozen, staring at her.
‘Wow!’ Was all she said. Marinette collapsed down onto her friend's bed, her body drained of fight.
‘Yeah.’
‘Can you do that again so I can record it?’
Marinette grabbed the pillow from behind her and threw it at Alya, smacking her friend in the face and causing her to yelp. They both laughed.
‘Okay, I get it. But it’s still weird,’ Alya said, coming to sit beside her.
‘Yep. Neither of us were jumping for joy. But it’s better to be together than not.’
Alya nodded. ‘True.’
They sat in silence for a while, both staring out the window. Marinette was in deep thought about her little outburst. She knew him, like, really knew him! She knew his favourite colour, his favourite food, his favourite city. She knew his likes and dislikes. She knew what made him happy and what made him sad. She knew everything she needed to make this work.
‘What happens if you accidentally figure it out?’
Marinette’s head sharply turned to study her friend. ‘What do you mean?’
Alya shrugged. ‘You know he never went to school here, so you know you’ve never met him that way. But what if you bump into him one day l. Maybe at the park, or the zoo? Or what if you recognise his voice in a coffee shop? What then?’
Well… that was something she hadn’t thought about.
‘I guess… we’ll just have to keep it to ourselves,’ Marinette said, her confidence already starting to waver. ‘Anyway, Paris has over two million people, plus thousands of tourists passing through every day. What are the odds of bumping into one tall, blond guy? They’re practically everywhere.’
But her heart wasn’t convinced. It was racing, frantic with what-ifs.
What if she did find him?
Living together, hiding something this big, it wouldn’t be easy. One slip of the tongue, one accidental moment, and everything could come crashing down. A name said too soon. A question only he would understand.
This could go wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.
‘So,’ Alya said suddenly, snapping Marinette out of her spiraling thoughts, ‘when do I get the exclusive?’
Marinette smiled, but it barely reached her eyes. It was a mask, a placeholder for calm she didn’t truly feel anymore. Everything she thought she knew had just been turned upside down.
She’d have to trust in them. In him. In them together.
They’d be okay.
They had to be.
Wouldn’t they?
Chat Noir
Adrien wiped his face with a towel, before calling Plagg back into his ring and stepping out of the hotel bathroom. He’d checked in here as soon as they’d arrived back from the temple. It gave them space to discuss their impending nuptials as well as just having time together away from prying eyes.
‘What do you want to eat?’ Ladybug said as he stepped out from the bathroom. She was sitting cross legged on the bed, the room service menu open in front of her, studying it like it was preparation for her BACs exams.
Leaning one shoulder against the wall, he stayed there taking her in. She was gorgeous and to know he was going to be living with this woman, spending time with her day and night, without the suits… well, finally he felt like he was winning in life.
‘Have they got any salads?’
She looked up, eyes staring at him curiously. ‘Don’t tell me you’re dieting again?’
He shrugged, pushing from the wall and placing his hands on his stomach. ‘Don’t you think I’ve put on some weight.’ He turned, sticking his belly out further.
Ladybug started giggling, crawling towards him on the bed and pushing herself up onto her knees. ‘I happen to love your body.’
Her hands trailed up his stomach, going higher and higher until they rested over his shoulders. ‘You are purr-fect just the way you are.’
She followed that up by kissing him slowly, tentatively on the lips. She stayed there, her body pressed against his and her arms wrapped around his neck.
‘Kwamis, I love it when you pun!’ He sighed, lowering his head to kiss her. His hands perched on her hips as he pressed his body against hers.
He tilted his head, wanting to take her all in. Her lips always had a slight taste to them. A fruity flavour he couldn’t help but lick off. Today was strawberry, her second favourite after passion fruit. Though, he was quite sure she only liked the passion fruit because of the impact it had on him. Catnip would be the only way to explain it.
Pulling her closer still, he kissed her deeper, more urgent and needy. Oh, so needy.
Ladybug was first to break away, moving back on the bed and pulling him with her. They landed with a joint oomph on the pillows, bodies in a tangle of limbs.
‘So, food?’ Ladybug said, stretching to reach for the menu again. ‘Did you really want a salad?’
Chat nodded. It wasn’t that he needed it, he just really liked salads and knowing he was going to be demolishing a wedding cake in the next week, he needed to make sure he was saving room. Plus, his Lady would be seeing him, and he couldn’t help but want to be at his best for her. She wouldn’t care how he looked, but he most certainly did.
‘There’s a bacon and chicken one, or a prawn?’
‘Chicken and bacon. Are you going to have the same?’ He rolled, keeping one arm wrapped around Ladybug, and reaching for the phone.
‘Yeah, I’ll only eat yours if not.’
He laughed and called down to reception, watching the tv as Ladybug began to flick through the channels. He thanked the member of staff he’d talked to and turned to look at the channel Ladybug had stopped on.
‘We have ten minutes until 90 Day Fiancée starts. What did you want to watch?’ She sat up, allowing them both to move into a more comfortable position. They shuffled up on the pillows, Chat automatically wrapping his arm around her again.
He smirked, moving his head closer to run his nose up her neck. ‘I know exactly what we could do.’
‘Make out?’
‘M’Lady, who do you take me for?’
They both laughed, Chat placing a hand on her hip and pulling her closer. She dropped one leg over his.
‘If you won’t make out with me, I suppose I’ll have to find another hero to do the deed instead.’ She went to take her yo-yo from her hip, teasing him the way she knew he would react. Grabbing it from her hands, he flipped her onto her back and pinned her down.
‘Don’t even dare. You’re mine, and mine only.’
‘Prove it!’
And he did, over and over again
…until the food arrived.
Chapter 6
Summary:
Welcome to the official interview with Ladybug and Chat Noir on the Ladybug
Chapter Text
Ladyblog Transcript: 16th July 2025
Interview with Ladybug and Chat Noir
[Alya] Welcome honorary bugs and cats to a very special edition of the Ladyblog. We are live streaming today because I am joined by two very important guests. Let’s say a quick hello to them.
Camera view flips. Ladybug and Chat Noir are sitting side by side on a sofa waving at the camera. The camera flips back round to Alya.
[Alya] Yes, that’s right everyone I have the amazing Ladybug and Chat Noir with me today, and not just that, I also have a major exclusive. But that will be coming later.
The camera view changes again, this time moving to have Alya, Ladybug and Chat Noir in the frame.
[Alya] So how are you both?
[CN] We’re great, thank you. How are you?
[Alya] laughs Always the gentleman, Chat Noir.
[CN] Of course. Exactly how real men should be.
[Alya] In that case, I’m very well, thank you. How about you Ladybug?
[LB] I am great, thank you. Glad we could be here.
[Alya] We’re all glad too. Now, over the past couple of days people have been sending messages for you to answer, but I was wondering if I could ask you some of mine first?
[LB] Of course.
[Alya] Excellent. So, what I wanted to know is: you have your 10th anniversary coming up later this year, do you have anything special planned?
[CN] I may or may not have gotten a little something for M’Lady. Something like a token to celebrate putting up with me for so long.
[LB] Smiling, she pushes her shoulder into CN Have you? That’s really sweet. Though, I don’t think it’s needed. It’s been one of the best decades of my life.
[Alya] Well you haven’t exactly got too many decades to compare it to. How old are you both?
[CN] For our safety, and Paris’, we don’t feel it would be wise to disclose that information.
[Alya] Fair enough!
[LB] But apart from obviously, our own celebrations, we will be at the parade in Paris, and will be at the celebration gala at the Grand Paris. We’re really excited about it. It’ll be a way of saying thank you to all the amazing people of Paris for their trust and support over the years.
[CN] We know we’re not exactly where we want to be in this war, but we know if we can keep winning the battles, finally we’ll make that breakthrough everyone wants and deserves.
[Alya] Talking about winning the battles. There are a lot more heroes out and about more often recently. Is that because you two are finding it hard as just a duo?
[LB] shaking her head We know there've been a lot of rumours about this. But basically, there’s more heroes because of one simple thing: life.
[CN] We’re getting older, which means there’s a lot more obligations in our normal day-to-day life. Plus, certain akumas call for certain powers. The heroes will only come out if instructed to, and we each have set days and times for patrols.
[LB] Which changes often so you’ll never see a repeat of a hero at the same time each week.
[Alya] It seems like you have everything under control.
[CN] That’s what happens when you work with the smartest, bravest woman in the world!
Ladybug covers her face with her hands, her cheeks showing a slight tinge of red.
[Alya] To Ladybug Is he always this flattering?
Ladybug pulls her hands off her face and smiles at Chat Noir. He drops her a wink and her cheeks darken in colour.
[LB] What can I say? He’s my biggest supporter.
[CN] Always.
He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. Alya starts fanning her face with her note cards.
[Alya] Someone call the fire department, because it is hot in here!
They all laugh.
[Alya] I take it you both have jobs outside of the mask. How do you manage to keep them both going?
[CN] With great difficulty!
[LB] It’s hard because we can’t just go up to our employers and say ‘every time there’s an akuma, is it okay if we jump ship?’
[CN] There’s been so much fantastic effort put into akuma alerts and drills, making sure Paris can continue to operate when another appears, it would be very difficult to step out of the building.
[Alya] Nice way of avoiding the question guys! She drops them a wink.
[CN] We’re very skilled when it comes to answering some of these questions. Years of practise.
[LB] I will say we are both fine though. Having to fight akumas won’t cause us any problems.
[Alya] That’s always good to hear. Right, we’re going to go onto some of our viewers' questions, before we open the Q and A again live.
Question from @spotsanddots23: Who, out of all the Miraculous holders, is the grumpiest?
[CN] Easy! Monarch! Next question.
[Alya] laughs Okay, what if it was someone from the Miracle Team?
Ladybug and Chat Noir stare at each other.
[LB] Before he can say anything points to Chat Noir I will admit, I’m not the most ideal person when it comes to early morning akumas.
[CN] That's actually a lie. There’s no one better against an early morning akuma. She’s so pissed off, she can get it done and dusted in ten minutes flat.
[Alya] Sorry about the language there folks!
[CN] Oops! Sorry kids!
[LB] I’m not sure who else. What do you think?
Ladybug looks at Chat Noir who strokes his chin in response.
[CN] I’m not sure, maybe Argos?
[LB] Yes! How did I forget? He’s always grumpy!
[CN] Can you remember when they wouldn’t let him have a kid’s Happy Meal from McDonalds?
[LB] Yes! And he got even more annoyed when you went next and they gave you one with two toys!
[CN] I thought he was going to snap me out of existence!
[LB] turning to face Alya Argos was just lucky that Chat is so kind! He gave him one of the toys to shut him up.
[CN] As far as I know, he still has it on his bedside table
Alya wipes a tear from under her eyes.
[Ayla] That’s amazing!
[CN] He didn’t think so
Question from @KittyKittyPowPow: Have you ever hurt each other?
[CN] When we were younger she continually broke my heart!
Ladybug rolled her eyes.
[LB] Don’t be so dramatic! But to answer the question: yes we have. Accidently, of course. We practise sparring quite often and there’s been a few times it got a little out of hand
[CN] She broke my pinkie!
Ladybug groans and covers her face
[Alya] laughing This sounds like a funny story. What happened?
[LB] Please don’t!
[CN] Oh, come on Bugaboo! It’s a funny story. So, the sparring began. Punch, block, dodge. It was all going great…until the spin kick.
[Alya] The spin kick?
[LB] For the record, I did not intend to hurt him. It was just an unfortunate accident.
[CN] Yeah! Whatever! If I remember rightly, you were angry at me for grabbing the last chocolate tart at the Deli.
[LB] You make me out to sound like a spoiled brat!
[CN] Actually no, just a chocoholic! Anyway Ladybug was feeling rather spicy, and launched into a dramatic 360-degree spinning kick. Her ponytail trailing like a superhero shampoo commercial.
[Alya] laughs This is a very dramatic story!
[CN] Right? Smiles Anyway I was so caught up admiring her, I didn’t quite block the way I was meant to and crack!
[LB] The noise was awful! It went all limp like it was doing an impression of a macaroni noodle. And unfortunately there’s no Miracle Cure for clumsiness so there was nothing I could do.
[CN] Luckily, it was whilst I was away at University so I could just say it was a sporting injury without too many people asking questions.
[LB] I felt so bad for weeks!
[CN] It’s all healed though. Look holds up his hand and wiggles all of his fingers, including the pinkie. Not many people can say love broke their pinkie.
[Alya] Love, eh? We’ll come back to that one.
Question from @strumthesnakecharmer: Have either of you ever had a crush on any of the other Miraculous holders?
[Alya] Strumthesnakecharmer has also put a note here to say he thinks Ladybug and Viperion have always looked like they’d make a cute couple. That’s interesting…
Ladybug let’s start with you.
Have you ever had a crush on a Miraculous holder? More importantly, have you ever had a crush on Viperion?
Ladybug giggles nervously. Chat Noir looks like he’s chewing something sour.
[LB] As Ladybug, the answer is no. I’ve never had a crush on any of the other holders. That would play into favouritism and can cause issues on the battle front. As my civilian self, there may have been times when I was younger. But it was just a crush, nothing more, or anything I would have acted on.
[Alya] Very diplomatic answer there.
[LB] Thank you.
[Alya] How about you, Chat Noir?
[CN] his back teeth grinding As much as I hate that answer, I can’t deny it’s similar here. When we’d just started out there was another holder that caught my eye, but it didn’t take long to realise I was just pushing my feelings onto that person to try and get over M’Lady here.
[Alya] So they were kind of a test?
[LB] In a way, yes.
[Alya] Were you pushing feelings, Ladybug?
[LB] I don’t know if it was pushing feelings, or loneliness.
[Alya] Ladybug, what you said about favouritism, don’t you feel like that’s how it is with Chat Noir?
[LB] Ladybug shakes her head. You can’t play favouritism with your equal. We know what we need to do, and when we’re out there we’re 100% committed. That doesn’t mean I don’t hate him sacrificing himself. That’s one of the worst parts of the job.
[CN] Like you said, we’ve been doing this for almost a decade. It’s second nature now. We know what is expected of us, and we trust the other to pull their weight. It’s not favouritism, it's expectation that the other’s going to do the job right.
[LB] And knowing that they will.
[Alya] You are one hell of a team! I love it when you both just glance at each other and you can tell a whole conversation has passed between you.
[LB] chuckles That can be both good and bad.
[CN] When she’s in a bad mood, her thoughts are not a place you want to be.
[LB] rolling her eyes Or when you take this one to a boulangerie.
[CN] sighs the choices are always impossible. Talking about boulangeries, can I give a quick shout out to T&S Boulangerie? Best macarons in all of Paris! Tom, Sabine, I love you!
Alya bursts out laughing as Ladybug squeaks beside her.
[Alya] I completely agree with that. Don’t you Ladybug?
[LB] shrugs can’t say I’ve ever tried anything from there.
[CN] Yes, you have! Those madeleines you drooled over last week were from there.
[LB] Oh, those…yeah, they were nice.
[Alya] Okay, let’s have one more question before your big announcement. This one’s interesting and plays onto the last.
Question from @Brie-yoncé: There were rumours about Chat Noir and a hero called Multimouse. Can you confirm or deny that you were in love with her?
[Alya] I love this question. Firstly, was there a hero called Multimouse? The only mouse hero we know of is Polymouse.
Chat Noir rubs the back of his neck, looking anxious.
[LB] This is the first I’ve heard of this. She turns to look at Chat Noir. You were in love with Multimouse?
[Alya] So she is real?
They both nod.
[CN] This is probably going to get me into trouble. He looks at Ladybug. And I know exactly who sent this question in, so I will be having words with them later. But yes, I had a thing for Multimouse. I wouldn’t say love, because it takes a lot of time together to feel that but she was incredible!
[Alya] Why haven’t we heard of her since?
[LB] She accidentally revealed her identity in front of Chat Noir at the end of the battle. But I agree with Chat, she did a really good job.
[Alya] I know you can’t reveal her identity, just in case she does need to make a comeback, but give us a hint: what did she look like?
[CN] I always thought she could be Ladybug’s twin. He chuckles. I may or may not have been searching out twins for a while after that battle. They had the same height, body type, attitude. Seriously, if I hadn’t seen them both there together at the same time I would have thought it was the same person.
[Alya] Well, fancy that! Almost like a clone…
[CN] laughs or an illusion stops laughing wait…
[LB] That was years ago though. I don’t even know where the girl is anymore. She could literally be anywhere…
[Alya] Like anywhere?
Chat Noir continues to glance at Ladybug.
[LB] Sweden! Yes! She’s definitely in Sweden!
[Alya] Have there ever been any other one time holders? Maybe one Ladybug had a thing for…
They both speak at the same time.
[LB] Yes!
[CN] No!
Chat Noir looks puzzled.
[CN] Who?
[LB] laughs softly Well, I was a teenage girl
[CN] And??
[Alya] gasps No…way!!
Ladybug smirks and shrugs her shoulders
[LB] What can I say? I had eyes!
[CN] Oh, come on! Who is it?
[Alya] He had a Miraculous!
[LB] He did! The snake! He saved me like a bazillion times!
Chat Noir stops, momentary frozen (it’s not your app peeps)
[CN] Interesting!
[LB] He would have made a fantastic hero! The snake just wasn’t the one for him.
Chat Noir opens his mouth to say something then stops. Closing it again.
[Alya] Okay, enough about that! There is quite the epic reason you’re here today, and this is a very huge exclusive.
[LB] You’ll only hear from us about it here.
[Alya] And I’ve got to say, I am very, very excited!
[CN] takes Ladybug’s hand in his Not as excited as we are. Do you want to do the announcing?
[LB] Announce away, Kitty
[Alya] squeals I love when you call him that
They all laugh
[CN] Well…around five years ago, my dreams came true. After a rather intense battle I was lucky enough to finally win the girl of my dreams…
They look into each other's eyes. An obvious conversation going on between the two of them.
[LB]…and next weekend we would love for you all to join us in celebrating not only our 5 year anniversary as a couple, but also our marriage.
Due to the high demand of responses your connection has been lost.
Chapter Text
Chat Noir
Adrien picked the keys to their new apartment a day later. The realtor had all but thrown them at him as soon as he stepped foot into the office, shooing him out swiftly and locking the door. He was quite sure they didn’t close at two on a Friday afternoon and it might have something to do with him. But it didn’t matter.
It had been quite the week. From the moment he left his father’s office at the Gabriel headquarters a week ago the world had seemed to speed up its turning to double time. He didn’t know if he was coming or going anymore. The disappointment from losing out on his vacation with his lady had suddenly been replaced by meetings with Master Fu, furniture shopping, media interviews, meetings with the mayor and trying to fit in time with his lady. Things had been that busy though, their time together consisted of eating and falling asleep. All he wanted was the wedding to finally be over, all their belongings to be in the apartment and the power down options to be activated.
Luckily, Monarch was feeling oddly sentimental and had only unleashed a single akuma. One that politely delivered a congratulatory message and an RSVP to their wedding. Adrien couldn’t help but hope the guy just wanted a seat at the buffet, not a dramatic entrance as the possessed flower girl. Still, Monarch did seem like a hopeless romantic, so Adrien was holding out hope for a plus-one, not a plus-panic.
‘What time are you meeting her?’ Plagg asked, hovering over the boxes filling up the hotel suite.
Adrien pulled his sleeve back and checked his watch. ‘In about an hour. I know she wants to visit some of the holders first before coming over. I think Fu’s allowing them to have the Miraculous for the next week.’
‘That’s generous of him.’
‘No need to sound so sarcastic!’
Plagg zoomed around, looping over the boxes and landing in one full of polystyrene balls. They jumped out the box like people bailing from the Titanic.
‘I’m not,’ he said, reappearing and juggling the balls. ‘I’m being honest. He never gives them away.’
‘Well, he is for this.’
Adrien continued checking over his things, making sure he had everything for the first couple of days in the apartment. They had a delivery due tomorrow from IKEA and would use the rest of the weekend to build the bedroom furniture. Priorities and all that.
Their trip to IKEA had become a wild game of cat and mouse. He’d never been before, and he could certainly say he wouldn’t be in a rush to go back again. Though the furniture was a great price, the thought of having to build everything seemed like a living hell — once he’d found his way to the check out point, that was.
Ladybug had been so enthusiastic though he couldn’t say no. So over the next few days he would need to build the world’s most complicated furniture, most likely with broken or missing parts, when he hadn’t built more than a model airplane in his life. And even then he had parental supervision. Well, his father sat somewhere in the house and shouted to him every now and then. It was almost as though he was right there.
Their new mattress (non IKEA might he add. That he wasn’t compromising on) had been delivered earlier that day with an information book rivalling book one of the Eiffel Tower LEGO set. Seriously, how could a mattress have such a booklet about how to sleep on it. He thought it was simple really. Climb on. Lie down. Shut eyes. It didn’t need forty-five pages of possible malfunctions with springs.
‘Who’s your best man because obviously you can’t choose me?’ Plagg said, flying himself out of the box and over to the bed.
‘I’m going to ask Carapace,’ Adrien said, moving to the wardrobe to start emptying his clothes.
‘A turtle? Come on, Kid. You can do better than that!’
Adrien shrugged. He got along with a few of the other holders just fine, but there was something different with Carapace, some kind of connection that, given time, could turn into something more. Like Pedro Pascal and Baby Yoda. Obviously he would be the Mandalorian.
‘I like him. He’s a good guy. Plus, he’s Rena’s boyfriend and she’ll obviously be Ladybug’s maid of honour so it just makes sense.’
‘Pfft! You’re such a dweeb!’
‘And you're a pain in my backside, but you don’t see me complaining this much do you?’
Plagg mumbled under his breath before flying off somewhere else, leaving him alone with his clothes. It was still unbelievable to think this time next week he would be married. Married. And to Ladybug! It really was a dream come true, he loved her completely and even though no one could know about it apart from the other heroes, he couldn’t help but just be happy. He never cared what other people thought. He just loved to love. And he loved to love her the most, regardless of who knew, it wouldn’t change his feelings in the slightest.
He thought about his father and Nathalie. They probably would have liked to be there to see this, but there was no guarantee they would come, there never was with anything. Ladybug’s family however was a different ball game, and as much as she was putting on a brave face, he also knew how sad this was making her. She wanted her father to walk her down the aisle. She hadn’t said it but she didn’t need to. He’d watched enough romantic comedy movies with her to know how she ticked. She was giving up everything for this once again, for the Miraculous and to be with him. He hoped Paris understood how fortunate they were to have such a caring, wonderful woman protecting them.
He took a shirt out of the closet and smiled. It would be exciting to wear normal clothing with her, for her to see his style and he hers. He wondered what she slept in, what she wore on her lazy days, how she dressed for work. He imagined her in tight skirts and high heels. Sweatpants and baggy t-shirts, and skimpy pyjamas. Some of that might just have been his hopes, but if he was a good boy, maybe something could come through for him.
The time ticked by quickly, and before he knew it, he was sailing through the night sky, boxes in hands and ready to meet his Lady. He just hoped this all went to plan.
Ladybug
Chat Noir had entered first. Dropping his transformation and making his way through the lobby, leaving her waiting for the signal that it was all clear.
The building was in a quiet area, just outside of the city, but on the same side as the Gabriel building, meaning her commute to work would be quick and easy while she worked on the collaboration. With the impending late nights, and early starts this would be incredibly beneficial. It wasn’t anything flash, or new. It was traditional and homely. The neighbour seemed safe, and there was a small corner shop at the end of the road.
Her first thoughts were how much she liked it. She dropped her transformation, waiting for the sign to go up to him.
‘What do you think, Tikki?’ Marinette asked, holding out a cookie for her kwami.
‘It looks really nice around here. Close to the Gabriel office too.’
Marinette nodded, her kwami once again was in line with her. She hadn’t requested a certain arrondissement, nor did he ask, so this was either very coincidental, or he worked around this area too.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Kitty: I’m in. Floor 8. Apartment 8c. Your humble abode awaits you.
Ladybug: On my way, Kitty Cat ♥️
Placing her phone away in her pocket, she picked up the couple of bags she’d brought with her. This was it. She was about to see her marital home which she would be sharing with her partner, who she was marrying next week. Her heart thundered in her chest as she settled herself back against the wall with her eyes closed.
‘Are you okay, Marinette?’
She was so glad Tikki was there with her. The full effect of what she was about to do had suddenly hit her…hard. She was moving in with a man she didn’t know. They’d never really spent a full night together. Yes, they’d fallen asleep in a hotel room, but one of them would wake up and leave. She didn’t know if he snored, or talked in his sleep. She didn’t know which side of the bed was his favourite. She didn’t know if he slept naked, or if he was a cuddler.
Her breath grew laboured, Tikki talking to her as she tried to control herself, but everything was rolling over her like a steam train. Did he brush his teeth before or after his breakfast? Did he sleep with the light on? Oh, man! Did he leave the toilet seat up?
Every breath became more and more unnatural and she was certain, she was standing outside his apartment with a bag of random house stuff having a panic attack.
‘Marinette, you need to breathe. Come on. Do it with me…in…out…in…out…in…’
Listening to Tikki’s instructions, she managed to slow everything down, her breath suddenly becoming easier, more fluid.
In and out, in and out, in and out.
‘Okay. I’m okay.’
‘Are you sure?’
Marinette nodded. ‘Yep! I’m okay now. Everything will be fine. I’m sure if he does snore, I can get him some of those strips that go over his nose to help him breathe.’
Tikki flew in front of her, stopping her from walking any further forward. ‘What if you snore?’
And that’s how the second panic attack started.
Ten minutes later, Marinette had made it into the building and up the staircase. There was an elevator, but she decided to forget that, because the way the day was going she would probably end up stuck in it.
After climbing the sleek, minimalist staircase to the eighth floor (her calves mildly protesting) she emerged into a well-lit corridor that practically whispered luxury. Soft recessed lighting ran along the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the space. The apartments were clearly upscale; the spacing between each door was noticeably wide, suggesting generous layouts behind each matte-black, brass-handled entrance. Along the walls, tasteful abstract art hung in symmetrical intervals, cool-toned pieces framed in brushed gold that matched the subtle accents throughout the hallway. The exposed brick had been whitewashed and sealed to perfection, offering a clean, modern texture that struck a careful balance between raw and refined. She walked slowly, heels muted by the plush charcoal-grey carpet runner beneath her feet, eyes scanning for the correct apartment number.
She could definitely see herself living here.
Counting it down, she finally stopped in front of 8c. Everything inside her thudded, waiting for her to knock on the door. This was it. This was the moment life changed, that she became an adult. Living with a man, getting married, being a wife. Kwamis, she hoped she didn’t suck at it.
Marinette raised a hand ready to knock the door when a new message came through on her phone.
Kitty: Door is unlocked. Let yourself in, then transform in the hallway. I’ll meet you in the lounge ♥️
Taking a deep breath, she exchanged her phone for the door knob and slowly pushed it open. Stepping inside the first thing she noticed was the long hallway. It stretched the entire length of the building, finishing with a door to who knows where. Along with the one at the bottom, she noticed two others, one to the left and one to the right. Closer to her, there were two wide arches, which she guessed led to the kitchen and the main living area.
‘Tikki, spots on.’ In a flash of pink she became her alter ego again, placing her bags down and moving deeper into the apartment and taking in her surroundings. Ladybug moved forward, scanning each area as she went. The first room she noticed was the kitchen. Simple. Clean. Granite worktops and white cabinets. There was a fridge, a cooker, sink and cafetière with a bow on it. She let out a small chuckle, the anxiety leaving with it. He’d bought her a cafetière, how could she ever have been worried about living with him?
‘Like it?’ His voice drifted over from the other side of the room, soft, a little smug, and way too pleased with himself.
She turned slowly, already grinning. He stood in the middle of the lounge, holding a bouquet so enormous it looked like he’d ransacked the Tuileries Garden.
‘Welcome home, M’lady,’ he said, beaming like this was his greatest achievement yet.
She arched a brow, answering him with as much sass as she could muster, a feat which was so hard when she was dying to just run and kiss him senseless. ‘Between the floral explosion and the cafetière wearing a bow in the kitchen, I’m guessing something’s up?’
He looked mock-offended. ‘You peeked before the grand reveal?’
‘You left it in plain sight,’ she said, laughing as she walked over to him.
He plucked a single rose from the bouquet and handed her the rest before dropping, very dramatically, onto one knee.
‘Oh light of my life, my partner in caffeine and crime… will you move in with me?’
She blinked, then laughed. ‘Is this just an elaborate ploy to get someone else to make coffee in the mornings?’
‘Partially,’ he admitted with a shrug. ‘But mostly, I just want to wake up next to you. And also maybe show off that very fancy cafetière I picked out with love and minimal understanding of coffee.’
She smiled down at him, heart full. ‘Well then. I suppose I could be convinced… if I get naming rights.’
‘To me or the cafetière?’
‘Both.’
He grinned. ‘Deal.’
Laughing as he climbed to his feet, she was suddenly swept off the ground, his arms wrapping around her as he spun her in a wide, giddy circle. She let out a surprised squeal, clutching the bouquet as petals fluttered around them. He set her down gently, then kissed her. Slow, sure, and smiling against her lips.
When he pulled back, he wiggled his eyebrows in mock seduction. ‘Now, M’lady,’ he purred, plucking the rose again and slipping it between his teeth, ‘I have a very—ouch!’
His sentence died with a yelp as he jerked the rose out of his mouth, dropping it like it had personally betrayed him.
She gasped, eyes wide. ‘Oh my god! You’re bleeding!’
He examined his lower lip, licking the tiny but dramatic bead of blood. ‘I was trying to be romantic,’ he muttered, obviously wounded in both pride and lip.
She bit back a laugh, failing miserably. ‘You got taken out by a flower.’
‘It had thorns! Dangerous weaponry. I should sue.’
‘Or,’ she said, reaching into her yo-yo and grabbing some tissue. She dabbed at his lip carefully. ‘You could take it as a sign to stop trying to seduce me with props.’
‘But I was doing so well.’
She cupped his face, eyes warm. ‘You don’t need flowers, or speeches, or even fancy cafetières. Just you is enough.’
His grin returned, softer now, real. ‘Good. Because I’m kind of all in.’
She leaned in, pressing a kiss just beside the tiny wound. ‘Yeah. Me too.’
And as they stood there — among crushed petals, stolen kisses, and one abandoned rose — she had a funny little feeling that home might not be a place, after all. It might just be him.
Chat Noir
Okay, so his grand declaration had once again been foiled. However this time, instead of it being a bunch of moody monks it was an enthusiastic thorn that didn’t like romance. Though, he supposed it should have been his fault for trying to uplevel Pepé Le Pew.
But after the bleeding stopped and he'd convinced Ladybug he wasn’t just an idiot, they settled on the blankets he’d brought with him in the middle of their new lounge.
She’d loved the apartment. Making all the right sounds and asking all the right questions. She also agreed to repainting the room they were in now, confirming what he thought about it being too dark.
They were eating Chinese food (none spicy thanks to his lip) with a giant calendar and colourful post it notes lying all over the floor, trying to figure out some kind of system for the apartment. They still needed to make sure the kwamis were fed, which meant ‘no mask’ times.
‘What times do you usually work?’ Ladybug asked, twirling some noodles expertly around her fork. She was snuggled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder as they studied the large calendar.
He rubbed a hand over his chin. ‘I’m not entirely sure. I’ll know more once I start next week. It’s the family business though, so I’m sure I can wing things a little, maybe even work from home? How about you?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ll need to be in the office everyday in the week, maybe even some weekends. Could be late too.’
‘That’s depressing,’ he said, grabbing a spring roll and biting a decent size off the end. ‘Will I actually get to see you?’
He watched as she grabbed a pen and a pink Post-It. She tapped the pen against her lip, her eyes focused on the calendar like she was figuring out what to do with her lucky charm. She started scribbling something down and he felt the tug at the corner of his lips.
Date night! 🖤
Ladybug leant forward and placed it on Friday night.
‘Whatever happens,’ she said, ‘this is our time. Every Friday night is date night. Protected and unchangeable.’
‘I love your thinking, M’Lady.’
They carried on working through the days of the week. Chat Noir pulled out his staff, and flicked it open to access his personal calendar.
‘I have a business trip at the end of August, so I will be away from Wednesday until Sunday.’
She took a green Post-It and scrawled over it, sticking it on the last week of the month.
Kitty away on business!
‘Anything else you need to put on there?’
Ladybug mirrored his action, opening her yo-yo and finding the calendar. He was so tempted to steal a glance, wondering if it would give him any indication of her day to day life. But that wouldn’t be fair. Not only would it show a degree of distrust, it would also jeopardise their identities.
‘There’s some sort of gathering at work at some point in July. Not entirely sure what it is, or when in the day it is. I’ll check if it’s mandatory for me to go.’
He was quite sure he had something himself in July, so maybe the world would be good to them and have it on the same day.
‘That’s fine. Just because we live together now doesn’t mean I’m going to stop you from going out with your friends, or doing fun work stuff.’
She huffed. ‘Believe me, fun and work really do not go together.’
Ladybug stroked a hand over the finished calendar, their lives mapped out provisionally for July and August. She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder.
‘It’s good, isn’t it? You and I, living together, being together.’
He turned his head, pressing a soft gentle kiss into her hair.
‘It’s the best.’
As though a thousand watts had shot through his body, Chat launched up and off the floor, heading towards the bedroom. ‘We’ve had the new mattress delivered today—’
‘Oh yeah?’
He made his way to the bedside table and grabbed the information booklet. He’d had a quick read through earlier, before going to meet Ladybug, and some of the recommendations had been quite comical.
When he returned back into the lounge, he’d noticed Ladybug had rewritten a lot of the dates and times, making sure everything was neat and colour coded to perfection.
‘It’s a lot higher than my old one, I might need to give you a leg up.’
Ladybug chuckled, patting the space next to her for him to come and sit back down. He didn’t need to be asked twice. He lowered down beside her, manual in hand and turned to Ladybug. She was sitting there smiling, actually looking interested in whatever random crap he was about to spew out.
‘So, what does it tell us about the mattress?’ she asked.
He glanced at her quickly before turning back to his booklet and began to read.
‘Turn the mattress every week.’
‘That can be done.’
‘No kneeling or bouncing…well, that takes away a hell of a lot of fun.’
‘How disappointing?’ she said sarcastically, giggling a little at the implications of his words
‘It’s okay. I’ve always wanted a playroom. A few chains and whips, maybe a paddle board or two. Very Fifty Shades of Grey.’
She looked at him with an expression which was one hundred percent a metaphorical eye roll. He’d spent enough time with Chloé Bourgeois to know that expression.
‘Anything else?’ she asked.
‘Maybe one of those swings. You know the ones I’m on about right?’
She chuckled. ‘Not for your fantasy playroom, which FYI is not happening. I’m talking about the mattress.’
He stuck his tongue out. What a spoilsport! She’s the one who would be missing out with this because he was quite sure he’d be a wonderful dominator. Anyway, he flicked through the manual again.
He read the words like the voice over on Alec’s new tv game show. ‘We recommend you don’t sit on the edge…huh…again…disappointing.’
‘Well, a bed is for sleeping, Chaton, and I feel we should give this new mattress a try.’
‘I agree, M’Lady.’
Not missing a beat, Chat moved, scooping Ladybug into his arms with perfect ease. Standing up, he stalked his way to the bedroom.
‘Wait!’ she suddenly announced, just two steps from the bedroom. ‘We’ve left the lights on!’
With a laugh, he carried her all the way back to the front door, holding her toward the hall switch. The soft click was a small relief — one step closer to snuggleville in their new bed. Next came the kitchen, then the living room. Finally, they were on their way back to the bedroom, back to each other.
Everything inside him was buzzing with joy. It had been so long since they’d last slept side by side.
That was, until she shouted again.
‘The pens! I can’t remember if I put the caps on — they’ll stain the floor!’
He let out a slow breath, then gently set her feet onto the floor. ‘I’ll just wait here until you’re ready.’
She stretched up on her toes, kissed his cheek, and smiled. ‘I’ll be quick.’
He watched her slip away, a soft grin tugging at his lips.
Yes, he thought. This was home.
And with that, he waited.
Chapter Text
Ladybug
It had become a national holiday.
The streets were shut down, music blasted from balconies, and confetti rained like snow. Paris had paused, completely and unashamedly, to celebrate the wedding of Ladybug and Chat Noir.
Their heroes. Their icons. Their heartbeats.
And somewhere, behind a locked bedroom door above a quiet bakery, their perfect Ladybug was falling apart.
Marinette paced in tight circles, one hand gripping her stomach, the other tangled in her hair. She felt sick. Not just queasy — violently, cosmically sick.
So this was what pre-wedding jitters felt like. No one had warned her they’d feel like impending doom.
‘Marinette, stop!’
Not a chance. She had enough nervous energy to light up all of France. Clad in only her white slip and underwear, she stomped back and forth like a woman possessed, every step charging her anxiety like a storm ready to crack the sky.
What if he didn’t show up?
What if he finally realised she was a disaster and ran off to marry Ryuko?
What if — God forbid — a tram flattened him on the way to the venue?
What if—
‘Marinette, please,’ Tikki begged, voice high with concern. ‘I can’t keep up with all your panicking!’
She froze mid-step.
Wide-eyed, she stared at her kwami, whose tiny blue eyes were filled with worry. Ever since the new moon began its rise, Tikki had somehow started catching fragments of her thoughts—all of them. Including the ones no one should ever hear.
Marinette swallowed hard.
Perfect Ladybug? Calm, collected, untouchable? If only they could see her now.
‘I’m not panicking. I’m just having an existential crisis in lace,’ Marinette huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if that could somehow hold the spiraling thoughts in.
Tikki floated closer, a patient but pointed look on her face. ‘You’re about to marry the love of your life, not go into battle. Breathe, Marinette.’
She tried. Inhaled. Exhaled. Still felt like vomiting.
Marinette sat down on the edge of her bed, the silk of her slip cold against her skin. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her veil, laid neatly across the pillow like a fragile promise.
‘I just… I keep thinking something’s going to go wrong,’ she whispered. ‘Not because I don’t love him — God, I love him so much — but because I do. What if I ruin it?’
Tikki sighed and settled onto Marinette’s shoulder. ‘You’ve saved Paris how many times now? And you think you can’t handle a wedding?’
‘Saving Paris didn’t require seating arrangements,’ Marinette muttered.
Tikki gave a small laugh. ‘Fair point.’
There was a soft knock at the door.
‘It’s just me,’ Alya’s voice came through. ‘Unless you’re naked, in which case, I’ll give you thirty seconds.’
Marinette scrambled to her feet. ‘You said you weren’t coming till seven!’
‘I lied,’ Alya replied as she pushed open the door, grinning wide and carrying a garment bag. ‘You looked like you were about to implode over text. Figured you’d need someone to zip you up and talk you down.’
Marinette ran to her, hugging her tightly.
‘Okay, okay,’ Alya said, patting her back. ‘Let’s get you dressed, drama queen. Chat Noir’s not getting cold feet, if that’s what you’re thinking. I saw him half an hour ago, and he was glowing. Like, Disney prince glowing. You’re good.’
Marinette smiled, a little unsteady, but real. Maybe this could go right after all.
‘How was he?’ Marinette asked.
‘Floating on air,’ Alya grinned. ‘Nino thought he’d have to physically chain him down.’
‘Good,’ Marinette nodded, too quickly. ‘That’s good—no, that’s great. Because I’m totally fine too. Floating. Definitely not seconds away from sticking my head in the toilet or anything.’
Alya chuckled, setting the garment bag gently on the chair before reaching for Marinette’s hands. ‘It’s okay to be nervous. This is huge. But he loves you—you, Marinette. Not just Ladybug. Both.’
‘Pfft, please,’ Marinette scoffed. ‘That was just a fleeting crush. He was with Multimouse for less than an hour.’
‘Exactly,’ Alya smirked. ‘Which just proves how fast you can win him over.’
That earned a real smile from Marinette. Alya always knew how to cut through the panic and find the truth beneath it. She remembered that Ladyblog interview—how the conversation shifted, how natural it felt, how tempted she’d been to just blurt it all out. But that would’ve undone everything they’d worked for. The secrecy. The chance to continue everything they’d worked so hard for.
She hesitated, her smile fading. ‘Do you think we’re crazy? I know you had doubts before, and I don’t blame you. But we’ve committed to this relationship where there’s no clear end. It’s good now, but… there’s so much we have to keep from each other.’
Alya gently pulled her toward the chaise lounge, sitting them both down. She took one of Marinette’s hands again, grounding her. ‘Like what?’
Marinette hesitated, glancing toward her cluttered desk where the shared calendar still sat open, pink and green Post-It’s decorating it with a clear his and hers schedule
‘We made this schedule,’ she said quietly. ‘Mapped out every meeting, every patrol, every weekend just to be together. And at the time, it felt doable. We were doing it. But then I got home and looked at it again, and I realised—there’s so much I still can’t share. Things I want to tell him. Things I don’t even know how to explain.’
Her voice cracked slightly.
‘It hurts,’ she admitted. ‘Loving someone that deeply and still keeping pieces of yourself locked away.’
Alya squeezed her hand. ‘You’re not crazy. You’re in love. And after the interview with you both. I get it! I understand. And yeah, this isn’t a fairytale—it’s real life with real complications. But if there’s anyone who can make it work, it’s you two.’
Marinette blinked back the sting behind her eyes.
Maybe they were crazy.
But maybe, just maybe, crazy was what love required.
‘Marinette. You’ve been with him for years—fighting side by side for almost a decade, and loving him for half that time. You were nineteen when you finally got together. You gave up the wild, messy freedom of your young adult years, not because you had to… but because you chose him instead. Do you remember the day you finally kissed him? The moment you stopped holding back and let yourself fall?’
Marinette went cold at the memory, as if ice had bloomed in her chest and crept all the way down to her fingertips.
‘I felt him die,’ she said quietly. ‘I felt him dissolve into nothing right there in my arms. I’ve never known anger like that—never unleashed power like I did that day.’
She paused, drawing in a shaky breath.
‘And then… I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t remember where we were when it happened. I searched everywhere, but it was like the world swallowed him whole.’
She wiped a fist under her eyes, emotion crashing over her in exactly the way Alya had intended.
‘Damn, Al… you’re good.’
‘I know,’ Alya grinned, hopping off the chaise lounge and striding toward the garment carrier. ‘Now—shall we get you dressed, Mrs. Noir?’
Chat Noir
Adrien Agreste had exactly ninety minutes until he walked down the aisle, and he had already committed three critical errors:
He was only halfway dressed.
He had not successfully tied his tie (despite four YouTube videos and an extremely unhelpful mirror pep talk).
He had eaten precisely half a granola bar, one strawberry, and a dangerously expired yogurt.
Music blared from a speaker propped on a shelf, a hairbrush microphone lying abandoned on the bed and Adrien Agreste—model, superhero, future husband—was in mid-slide across the hardwood floor of his hotel room in socks and boxer briefs, white shirt flapping open, one arm raised like a rockstar.
Very Tom Cruise in Risky Business.
He landed a spin in front of the full-length mirror, striking a rather dramatic pose… and immediately trips on his own pant leg.
‘You’re spiralling,’ Plagg said flatly, floating a few feet above Adrien’s chaotic disaster of a bedspread, holding what might’ve been the last piece of camembert in all of Paris like it was a sacred artifact.
‘I am not spiralling,’ Adrien insisted, jamming one leg into his offending tuxedo pants while trying to balance on a throw pillow. ‘I’m… rehearsing. Loosening up. Keeping the vibe light.’
‘Is that what you call nearly setting your cufflinks on fire with a curling iron?’
‘That was one time. And I was trying to fix a wrinkle!’
‘You’re basically a romantic comedy montage waiting to happen,’ Plagg muttered, popping the cheese into his mouth.
Adrien let out a half-laugh, half-groan, falling backward onto the bed in surrender. His shirt flapped open like he was starring in some low-budget bridal magazine ad. Which, to be fair, he had done once.
This should have been easy. He’d fought supervillains in designer suits. He’d modelled during Fashion Week without tripping on a single runway. He’d confessed his love to Ladybug on a rooftop in the middle of a thunderstorm. Dramatic? Sure. Worth it? A thousand percent.
But this? Getting ready to marry her? This felt like skydiving with a blindfold on. While doing calculus. With butterflies. Lots of butterflies.
‘Tell me I’m not going to accidentally say something dumb during my vows,’ Adrien said, staring at the ceiling like it owed him reassurance.
Plagg shrugged. ‘You definitely are. But she already knows you’re a lovable idiot, so it’ll just be part of the charm.’
Adrien closed his eyes and smiled.
Yeah. She knew. And she loved him anyway.
A knock sounded at the door.
‘The second best man’s here,’ Adrien announced, quickly pulling his legs into his trousers before standing up straight and doing the buckle.
‘I’m quite sure he’s the only best man,’ Plagg responded, taking a tiny nibble of the cheese.
‘We both know I’m the best man, no question about it.’
Carapace had arrived bang on time, and for a good reason. After years of keeping his secret under wraps, he was about to reveal himself to someone, and as terrifying as that was, he couldn’t wait to have a new friend. They’d been together earlier, along with Rena, checking everything was ready for the evening, but now it was different.
Someone who knew him in and out of the suit. He’d already got it in their head how they would meet up for game nights, patrol together and maybe double date. He knew Carapace and Rena were a thing, which was perfect because so was he and Ladybug. It was a win-win situation.
Taking a deep breath, Adrien steadied his nerves. This was it. This was the moment. Hand shaking, he reached out to the door and slowly turned the handle, satisfaction coursing through him as the door snapped open and revealed the guest on the other side.
‘Hi,’ the guy said, dressed in a perfectly fitted tuxedo. ‘I’m Nino Lahiffe.’
Adrien smiled as he stretched a hand out, excitement bubbling in his gut. ‘Oh! Oh! I know who you are! I didn’t miss a night you played in London! Best DJ on the planet! I’m so thrilled to meet you! Oh wow! DJ Lahiffe is going to be my best man. Best day of my life!’
Nino chuckled. ‘Not entirely sure your wife would be too flattered with that.’
Adrien shrieked before rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Please don’t tell her. Adrien Agreste, by the way. Pleased to meet you.’
The two shook hands, and Adrien knew that it would be the start of a really close bond. A friendship. A brotherhood. With DJ Lahiffe, oh man!
‘Come in,’ Adrien said, stepping to the side and allowing Carapace—Nino—into the hotel room.
Nino wandered in, his eyes taking in the hotel room with curiosity. ‘So,’ he eventually said, ‘the great Chat Noir is the insanely famous Adrien Agreste.’ He turned to look at Adrien, a coy smile on his face. ‘Who would have thought it?’
Adrien laughed and stepped forward, grabbing his bow tie and slinging it around his neck. ‘I take it you didn’t expect someone so awesome?’
Nino chuckled. ‘Down to earth too.’
They both laughed.
‘What would Mr. Supermodel like his best man to do?’
Adrien grinned. ‘Oh, you know—keep the rings safe, make sure I don’t pass out, and tackle me if I try to run.’
Nino smirked. ‘Add ‘sneak emergency snacks into your tux’ and ‘distract any exes at the reception,’ and we’ve got a deal.’
Adrien pointed at him. ‘And don’t forget the most important one: epic dance-off if the vibe dips.’
‘Already packed my glitter socks,’ Nino said, bumping fists with him.
Adrien moved to the mirror and attempted to tie the bow tie around his neck again, filling his new friend in on the evenings events, including the power down after the soulbond.
The new moon was set for eleven minutes past nine, the Delta Aquarids meteor shower starting not too long after. They would need to make sure they were bonded by the time of the meteor shower, if they wanted to make sure the bond stuck.
Forty minutes later, both were ready, Wayzz and Plagg fed, and Nino’s best man’s speech ready to go.
‘You ready?’ Carapace asked.
Carapace tugged at the sleeves of his newly upgraded hero suit, catching his reflection in the mirror. The once rugged, battle-ready look had been transformed into something way more refined—because hey, if your best friends were finally tying the knot after years of rooftop heart-to-hearts, you dressed up for the occasion too.
Gone was the bulky armor and combat boots. Instead, Carapace 2.0 stepped out in a sleek, emerald-green tuxedo-inspired suit with subtle gold piping tracing along the lapels and cuffs—just enough shimmer to remind people he was still a superhero, even if he looked ready to walk the red carpet. His signature shell had been polished to a deep jade gloss, reworked to resemble a modern, minimalist shield that doubled as a stylish backpiece.
The helmet was swapped out for a masquerade-style half-mask—turtle-patterned of course—that let his smile show, and his tie? Custom-made to match Ladybug’s signature red with black polka dots. (A quiet tribute. Rena’s idea. Obviously.)
Chat Noir watched as he looked at the final touch: cufflinks shaped like tiny turtle shells, inscribed with Best Man Duty: Activated.
‘Not gonna lie,’ Nino said, smoothing his lapel, ‘I look like I could stop a villain and steal the spotlight. But don’t worry, today's all yours.’
Chat Noir let out a low whistle, making an unmistakable clack with the patent leather of his shoes.
‘Well, well,’ his voice came out smoother than a jazz solo at midnight. ‘Did someone order a second dashing hero in formalwear?’
Carapace turned to look at him, a flash of admiration in his eyes.
Chat Noir had arrived.
His suit was classic black, but tailored to within an inch of its life, hugging his frame like it was made of shadows and secrets. The fabric shimmered slightly under the lights—charcoal silk with the faintest pattern of cat paw prints only visible if the light hit just right. His bell was gone, replaced by a sleek black tie fastened with a golden pin shaped like his staff. The mask remained, but it had been refined—thinner, sharper, more elegant. And his boots had been traded for glossy dress shoes that somehow still let him move like a panther ready to pounce.
He adjusted his cuffs, revealing a silver watch that ticked quietly. The air between him and Nino buzzed with years of battles, inside jokes, and wedding-prep chaos.
‘You clean up alright, Kitty,’ Nino grinned.
Chat smirked. ‘You think this is impressive? Wait ‘til you see my vows. Spoiler: they rhyme.’
Carapace groaned. ‘If you pun during the ceremony, LB will tackle you.’
Chat leaned in, eyes twinkling. ‘Is it bad that I’m hoping for it a little?’
Leading the way, the two guys headed out of the window and up onto the rooftops of Paris. Most men would joke they were on their way to their doom, Chat Noir had never been so ecstatic before. He was about to be married to a woman he loved and start life in his own loving family. Yes, everything was working out just great.
Chat Noir could remember when his mother would talk to him about the future. They would sit, curled up on his bed, reading fairy tales and talking about true love. He’d ask his mother over and over again how he would know when he’d met his.
His mother was a romantic at heart—very much like himself. And until today. Until that moment when Ladybug appeared on the top of their rooftop, he hadn’t understood what she was telling him.
‘You’ll know it’s her, because when you look at her, the world will just drift away.’
He had always found it funny, the world moving from beneath his feet, it just sounded so weird, so strange. The obsession he had with gravity was a constant defiance of his mother’s analogy. You couldn’t leave something you were stuck to.
But he was stuck to Ladybug—both naturally and by a spiritual bond.
And as he glanced over his shoulder he understood every little detail his mother told him.
As his eyes caught hers, hidden behind her veil, everything and everybody disappeared. It was just the two of them. The rooftop, no longer covered in heroes in costumes, was an altar for him and for her, a walkway into their future.
Gracefully, Ladybug moved towards him, gliding down the aisle like an angel from his dreams. Their eyes remained together, unblinking. This is what his mother had meant. Not that the world vanishes—but that everything finally makes sense when it does.
Viperion was by her side, her arm threaded through his as they stepped, just slightly out of sync, down the aisle. Chat watched as the snake holder lowered himself to her level, whispering in her ear, but all he received in response was a slight smile.
Every inch of her was locked on him.
Yes, he didn’t know her name, but he knew her.
Not in the way the world demanded names and histories, but in the way the heart recognised something it’s been aching for without ever knowing it. Every step she took toward him echoed in his chest like a rhythm only they could hear. Her veil danced lightly in the breeze, and even though it concealed her, it couldn’t hide her. Not from him.
He knew the curve of her determination, the weight behind her choices, the storm behind her calm. He knew how her voice could cut through chaos and how her silence could heal a soul. He didn’t know where she lived, what her parents were called, or where she’d studied for lycée. But he knew how she fought, how she protected, how she gave herself completely to a city that didn’t even know her name.
She was a mystery, but not to him. She was a puzzle where the missing pieces didn’t matter, because he could feel the picture she made in his bones. He had loved her in silence, in patience, in battles and in stolen rooftop glances. And now, as she came closer with Viperion at her side, it wasn’t fear that gripped him—it was awe.
He didn’t know her name. But he knew all the little things, that made up the big things.
He knew she slept with one leg kicked out from under the duvet, not because she’s restless, but because she’s always too warm. No matter the season.
She eats cereal for dinner—not because she’s forgetful or lazy—but because she likes cereal. Genuinely. The crunch, the cold milk, the simplicity. There’s comfort in it, a kind of rebellion against the need to complicate things.
She hums when she’s concentrating. Not loud or on purpose, just little half-melodies under her breath, like her thoughts are music trying to escape. She’s the kind of person who forgets where she put her keys but remembers exactly where a street kid dropped their ice cream three days ago.
She gets motion sickness in the back seat of cars. She prefers the quiet hum of the metro, her head tilted toward the window, eyes half-lost in whatever world she’s building behind them. And she always offers her seat to someone who needs it more—without making it a thing.
He knows she hates the sound of styrofoam rubbing together, and she’ll wrinkle her nose in a way that’s both dramatic and adorable when she hears it. She loves thunderstorms—the real kind, not akuma-born chaos—but the ones that roll in slow and heavy, shaking the sky with their honesty. She’ll sit by the window for hours, fingers curled around a mug of tea she forgot to drink, just watching.
Most importantly, he knew how fiercely she could love. And that she was his. Or, maybe, he was hers.
Then, she was there. Standing in front of him, like a dream, a wild, once in a lifetime dream that was about to come true.
Once Ladybug was safely with him, most of the heroes dispersed, spreading themselves off around the city to make sure it all went uninterrupted. They knew the power Ladybug and Chat Noir would hold after this, they’d been filled in on everything. And it was of high importance, Monarch didn’t find out.
Chat Noir’s eyes didn’t leave Ladybug’s, Master Fu stepping forward and Notre Dame began its chime.
One…
Two…
Each chime signalling the beginning of something new. Something powerful.
Three…
Four…
Master Fu turned, snapping his fingers and lighting candles around the rooftop, as the ever darkening night pulled in on them.
Five…
Six…
Carapace and Rena stood in front of Master Fu, his voice calm as he spoke to them. ‘While Ladybug and Chat Noir walk the path of unity, their bond must be protected—physically and spiritually. Carapace, Rena Rouge, this is no ordinary mission. You are not just guarding heroes… you are guarding the balance between light and shadow. Their strength depends on your vigilance.’
Carapace was first to respond. ‘Two souls entwined by fate walk the path of balance. While they journey inward, we stand as their shield—guardians not just of their bodies, but of the sacred harmony they embody. As it was in the beginning… so it shall be now.’
‘The bond they share is older than any of us… the dance of light and shadow, endlessly reborn. In this moment of deep convergence, we honour our place in the pattern. We do not just protect—they are the heartbeat, and we are the silence that keeps it steady.’ Rena bowed her head, Carapace following her lead.
‘Then you understand. Good. The Miraculous have always chosen those who see beyond the moment—who feel the threads of the tapestry, not just their place upon it. Ladybug and Chat Noir are more than warriors… They are the axis. If they fall out of step, the balance trembles. But with guardians such as you, I trust the universe holds firm.’
Master Fu paused, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
‘Protect not just with strength… but with stillness, with faith. In silence, you carry the song of old.’
They stood up and nodded. Turning to face away from the rooftop.
Seven…
Eight…
Nine…
The rooftop was empty now, save for flickering candles and the hush of the city sleeping below. The stars blinked like curious onlookers, and the new moon—a perfect sliver of nothing—watched quietly overhead. Every once in a while, a meteor cut across the sky, fast and silvery, like the universe couldn’t keep its excitement contained.
Ten…
Eleven…
Chat Noir’s heart thudded loud enough to echo, nervous energy practically radiating off him like static—his smile trembling at the edges.
In front of him stood Ladybug, her fingers twisted in front of her, tugging gently at the edge of her veil.
‘You okay, Bugaboo?’ he asked, voice lower than usual. Not teasing. Just… there. Just real.
‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Ask me again in five minutes.’
He grinned, but it faded gently as Master Fu stepped between them. The old Guardian didn’t need to speak loudly. His presence settled over them like a blanket, grounding, calm.
‘This ritual,’ Fu said, ‘is older than your masks. It is not marriage by name. But it is a bond. Of heart. Of spirit. Of choice.’
He paused. ‘Are you ready?’
Chat Noir met Ladybug’s eyes. Blue, open, unwavering.
‘Yes,’ Ladybug whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. ‘Absolutely.’
They stepped into the circle together—one drawn in crushed moonstone and powdered meteor dust. The lines shimmered faintly beneath their feet, like stardust recognising something holy.
Ladybug’s hand shook as she pulled out her offering: the red rose he’d given her that night he’d confessed his love. ‘This… this was from the night you first told me you loved me. My first experience of true love.’
Chat blinked. Then smiled. All this time, she’d kept it. ‘I kept this,’ he said, holding up a creased piece of paper—one of her sketches. It was him and her, half-finished, lines smudged, features caught mid-smile. ‘You gave it to me on our first anniversary of being heroes. You were gutted you didn’t finish it, but I knew in that moment the imperfect can reflect perfection.’
Their relics were placed in a glass bowl. Master Fu didn’t comment—he didn’t need to. The moment already spoke for itself.
Next came the vows.
They weren’t rehearsed. There was no script. Only feelings.
‘I vow,’ Chat said slowly, eyes searching hers, ‘to trust your silence as I trust your voice. I vow to stand at your side, even when the world turns its back. And if I ever forget how to be brave, I’ll look to you. Always.’
Ladybug blinked back, her eyes glistening in the candle light. Her voice was breathy but sure.
‘I vow to see you, not just your charm or your jokes. But you. The boy who stays up all night wishing on stars and keeps me out of the way of danger. I vow to protect your heart like it’s mine. Because maybe… maybe it already is.’
Master Fu smiled gently and unravelled a thin red cord, perfumed with lavender and something older. He wrapped it around their hands, binding them loosely.
‘This cord does not tie you down. It holds you together.’
Chat’s thumb brushed softly against Ladybug’s. She squeezed his fingers.
Then, the final step—The Shared Breath.
They stepped closer. Foreheads met, noses barely touching. No kiss. Just breath. Just being. Just the sacred silence that falls when everything makes sense.
Overhead, a meteor flashed—a perfect, brilliant streak. And then another.
Fu’s voice was quiet as he whispered the final bonding words. ‘Where one walks, the other will feel the echo. When one falls, the other will rise.’
Ladybug’s eyes stayed closed, but she smiled.
For once, the city didn’t need them. Tonight, they only needed each other.
And as the cord slipped away—leaving no mark, only memory—Chat whispered, ‘I used to think love was something far away. Something for other people. Something that came after the battle. But with you…’ he paused, swallowing hard, his voice trembling at the edges, ‘it’s always been during the battle. In the middle of it all. Between dodging akumas and chasing shadows, I found you. And I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time you looked at me like I was more than just the guy with the puns.’
Ladybug finally opened her eyes, and they shimmered—full of something ancient and tender.
‘I never meant to fall for you,’ she whispered, reaching up to gently brush his cheek with her fingertips. ‘But you made it impossible not to. You’ve always been the one person who saw me—even when I didn’t know who I was anymore. You’ve loved me through the worst of it. You’ve waited for me… even when I didn’t ask you to.’
Chat leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a breath, grounding himself in the warmth of her skin.
‘I’d wait a thousand lifetimes,’ he murmured. ‘And I’d fall for you every single time.’
‘For every lifetime?’ she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He opened his eyes, green and full of fire and softness. ‘For every lifetime,’ he repeated.
No masks. No names. No distractions.
Just her.
Just him.
Two hearts stitched together by battles, by glances, by whispered vows under a sky that had finally given them a night of peace.
And when she kissed him—finally, completely—it wasn’t dramatic or showy. It was soft, sacred, the kind of kiss that didn’t need an audience, because it had already been written in every stolen moment they’d shared.
Above them, the stars continued to fall.
Below them, the city breathed on.
But up here…
They had already found their forever.
Chapter 9
Notes:
The speech at the end of this chapter is pretty much how Art drew the power down after the wedding, so all inspiration comes from him and his wonderful idea.
Chapter Text
Chat Noir
Chat Noir stood in front of Ladybug, in front of their friends, hands trembling just slightly as he placed his glass down on the table.
‘M’Lady…’ he said, voice soft and steady but full of emotion, like every word carried the weight of years. He coughed, pulling himself together and focusing on the face of his wife. The face which brightened his darkest and filled his empty days.
‘You once told me that being a hero means putting others first, even when it hurts. That real courage is giving your heart to a world that might never know how much you sacrifice for it.’
Her eyes softened, the black pools surrounded by a sparkling blue.
‘And today, standing here, I finally get to tell you what I never could before: You saved me. There was a time when I felt invisible. Surrounded by people, but still unseen.
I wore a smile like armour. I made jokes so no one would see how much I ached to be known, to be wanted, to be loved…And then I met you.’
He took a deep breath, picking up his glass and taking a sip of water. Wetting the sudden dryness. His Lady smiled urging him on the way she always did.
‘You looked at me — really looked at me — and somehow, even with all my broken pieces, you made me feel whole. You gave me hope when I thought I didn’t deserve it. You gave me a home when I didn’t even know I was lost. You gave me your heart and trusted me with it. And even after all this time, there’s so much I still don’t know about you.’
Chat took her hand in his, pressing a delicate kiss to her knuckles before clutching her hand to his heart.
‘I don’t know your name. Your world beyond the mask. And that used to terrify me. But those parts of you I do know? I love them so deeply, so completely, they feel like an ocean I might drown in. So, yeah, I realised I don’t need to know everything. Because I know you. Your heart. Your courage. Your goodness. And that is more real, more true, than any name or face could ever be.’
A single line of silver trailed down her face, glistening under the moonlight, the meteors continuing to light up the night sky like Bastille’s Day.
‘I don’t love a name,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t love a mask. I love you, M’Lady — exactly as you are, exactly as you choose to show yourself to me. And I promise you: I will never stop choosing you. I will never stop believing in you. Whether the world knows your name or not, whether you’re shining bright or falling apart, I will be the hand that never lets go.’
Ladybug moved, burying her head into his chest as he continued.
‘I vow to be your shelter when the weight is too much. Your champion when you doubt yourself. Your safe place when you need to simply be.” You once asked me if I would still love you even if everything changed. And the truth is… everything has. The world. My heart. Me. Because loving you has changed me — and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So wherever you go, whoever you become — know that you will always, always have a place inside my heart. A place no one else will ever touch. I love you, Ladybug. With everything I am, and everything I ever will be. I always have. I always will.’
He wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her as tight as he could, his eyes swinging with unshed tears—and smiled, the purest he’s ever smiled. The sound of applause over the rooftop amplified his feeling, as he pressed his lips into her hair.
‘I love you too.’ Her hands cupped his face gently, tilting it down so she could align his lips with hers. Stretching up onto her toes, he steadied her, hands at her waist, as he kissed her. Slow and meaningful, filling it with every inch of desire he felt.
A slight salty taste came from her lips, and he pulled back, using his hands to wipe her tears away. ‘Why can you still do this to me? You’re like a talking PR stunt.’
Chat laughed, pulling her back to kiss her again. Harder. Tilting his head to get her exactly where he wanted. He gripped at her back, pulling her up, her hands moving from his face onto his shoulders, before looping around his neck.
She pulled him down. Fingers grabbing his hand, tight and unhinged. And if they weren’t careful, he’d be trying the power down activation right here and finishing their wedding night on this rooftop in front of the other heroes.
After the ceremony, they headed towards the Eiffel Tower. They’d been granted the entire monument for the evening’s celebrations, and as Paris partied below them, confetti, buffets and music, they had no idea what was going on in the high rise of the Iron Lady.
Finally breaking the kiss, Ladybug laughed, wiping her thumb under her lower lip.
‘No need to worry about possible smudges, M’Lady. I’ve kissed it all off.’
To prove a point, he kissed her lower lip again—exactly where her thumb had just been.
Chat draped an arm over her shoulders as they both watched the room come alive again—like someone had hit ‘play’ on a very chaotic, very glittery superhero documentary.
Heroes were scattered across the venue, already mixing drinks like it was the next Olympic sport. It was a sight. An experience. A fever dream with capes and questionable decision-making.
Queen Bee was dramatically chugging straight from a bottle of champagne — Chat was 95% sure she brought it herself and 100% sure she was not planning to share.
Carapace had somehow claimed the DJ booth and was aggressively bobbing his head while spinning a playlist that could only be described as ‘battle music meets wedding vibes.’ Every beat drop came with more smoke effects than necessary. Possibly also fireworks. Unconfirmed.
Rena Rouge, multitasking as usual, had taken over as the wedding photographer-slash-live musician, capturing candids with one hand while riffing on her flute with the other. She’d also roped in Viperion for backup harmony, and now the slow-mo jazz remix of ‘Single Ladies’ was confusing everyone.
Argos sulked in the corner like a Shakespearean villain who’d just been denied the lead role, grumbling about ‘injustice’ and ‘the sacred title of Best Man,’ while polishing his fan with increasingly dramatic sighs.
King Monkey, of course, had turned the dance floor into a betting arena, gleefully shouting odds on who would cry first during the speeches. (Chat Noir was a 2:1 favorite. Ryuko was inexplicably 15:1).
The woman herself was meditating near the snack table, trying to remain serene while secretly guarding the sushi platter like a dragon protecting its hoard. Pegasus was zipping around refilling drinks at light speed, occasionally teleporting just to show off and spill half of someone’s cocktail in the process.
Purple Tigress was leading a conga line with a level of commitment typically reserved for actual battle, while Minotaurox and Pigella argued over whether sparkler fountains were a fire hazard or just ‘aesthetic’.
Polymouse had somehow organised a flash mob. Nobody had agreed to it. It was happening anyway.
And somewhere in the chaos, Master Fu was absorbed in the crowd, confused but supportive, sipping punch from a very tiny cup.
It was absolutely, unapologetically a disaster.
Chat grinned. ‘Best wedding ever.’
The sudden scratch of discs stopped the chaos and pulled everyone’s attention to Carapace, who for some unprofound reason, had found a microphone.
‘Right fellow heroes, it’s the time you’ve all been waiting for...’
The faint sounds of ‘Carapace’ grew to an almighty chant, Argos muttering something in the corner under his breath which sounded suspiciously like a part of the male anatomy as the crowd grew more and more animated.
‘The best man is about to entertain, so everyone, please take your seats.’
As though Gabriel had just announced a 99% off sale, a stampede moved around the room, each trying to find the seat closest to Carapace, which only made Chat worry a little more.
He turned to Ladybug, plastering on his best smile. ‘What do you say, we go and find out if our power downs work?’
She chuckled, taking her hand in his and leading him to their table, right at the front. ‘After this Minou, I promise. I just really want to hear what he says.’
’But…but…’
’Yes,’ she laughed, continuing weaving through the crowds. ‘I’ll see your butt later, and if you’re a good boy and listen to this, I’ll show you mine.’
Chat Noir stopped, standing rod straight. Now there was something he couldn’t argue about. He stepped in front of his chair, sitting down and giving her a wild, obnoxious smile. ‘I’ll sit, but…’
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down on top of him. He lowered his chin onto her neck, his lips brushing against her ear. ‘You have to sit with me.’
The shiver that ran down her body, convulsed into his, his hands grasping hold of her tighter, stopping her from wriggling in his lap. If he had to sit here, she did too. Everything in him tensed, his eyes burning into the back of her head.
’Stop,’ he whispered, his voice breathy and thick. He buried his nose into her hair, his body igniting from the scent and the feel. He’d never really sworn, but right now, as her superstrength pushed past his grip and she wiggled again, something that rhymes with duck really wanted to escape.
She chuckled, moving her body back into his. ‘What’s wrong, Big Boy, can’t take it?’
He closed his eyes and tried to think of something unsexy.
His father in speedos. His father is speedos. His father…
The sound of interference, snapped him out of his thoughts and, thankfully, stopped Ladybug from teasing him any further. Now if Carapace could just talk in double speed so he could get his Lady back to their hotel room, that would be wonderful.
‘Sorry about that,’ Carapace said. ‘But I needed to get your attention somehow, especially these two love birds at the front.’
A wolf whistle sounded from the back, causing everyone to laugh. Carapace took the opportunity to grab a ‘giant folder’ labelled ‘Exhibit Folder’, that just so happened to be, a giant pizza box with a sticky label on the front.
‘Alright, everybody, court is now in session! I, Carapace — defender of the truth, protector of love, and occasional DJ at birthdays — am here to deliver my official legal deposition for the case of Chat Noir v. Eternal Monogamy.’
Carapace opened the pizza box, grabbing the remaining slice and taking a decent bite from it. God, Chat hoped that was from earlier in the day.
Throwing the remainder of the slice back in the box, he licked his fingers and took out a piece of paper—or as most people know it, a napkin. ‘Opening Statement: The defendant, Chat Noir — international heartthrob, pun enthusiast, and part-time housecat — is hereby accused of the following crimes: excessive public flirting. Reckless endangerment of his dignity. Grand theft affection. Wearing leather… in July.’
The room laughed, Ladybug turning a little to toy with his bell. ‘What have I told you, Kitty?’
Carapace laughed, before shaking his head. ‘Seriously though, dude. July. In Paris. Leather. You’re a public safety hazard.’
Chat chuckled, shrugging before heckling his friend. ‘Someone has to make this team look good.’
A chorus of boos echoed around the rooftop, punctuated by whistles, jeers, and someone yelling, ‘Take it off!’ A number of different ideas were shouted his way—including, most notably, a yellow and black bra that sailed through the air like a majestic, lacy boomerang.
Chat turned just in time to see Chloé — Queen Bee herself — blow him a wink and raise her champagne bottle in salute. He blinked, processed, and then slowly turned back to Carapace, casually tossing the bra behind him…where it landed squarely on Viperion’s face.
Viperion looked far too pleased about it. He lowered it slowly like it was a priceless artifact. Someone from the crowd yelled, ‘Put it on!’
Carapace cleared his throat dramatically, waving his hands. ‘Back to me, guys! Ignore the member of the Village People,’ he said, gesturing vaguely at Chat. Another round of laughter.
‘Anyway. Exhibit A,’ he continued, flipping through a very unnecessary stack of cue cards. ‘Sources claim this man’—he pointed at Chat like he was doing a dramatic courtroom reveal—‘once tried to cook dinner for her…and somehow set a salad on fire.’
Gasps, some mocking horror, and a very loud ‘How?!’
‘She told me,’ Carapace said, ignoring the hecklers, ‘and I quote: ‘It was supposed to be a romantic dinner. He lit a candle. Then the tablecloth. Then the lettuce. It was like Armageddon.’
Ladybug buried her face in her hands, laughing as Chat gave her a sheepish grin and a shrug like, ‘It was artisan lettuce, okay?’
‘Exhibit B:’ Carapace continued, and Chat Noir was on the edge of his seat. What was he going to bring up next?
‘Surveillance footage (that I 100% didn’t illegally download) shows Chat Noir trying to bring his fiancée a bouquet of roses and getting into a full fistfight with a bee.’
Rena stood, playing something on her flute and revealing the video of Chat Noir sizing himself up against a bee. Finally, after the most pathetic battle known to man, Chat Noir was jabbed in the nose.
‘The bee won.’ Carapace exclaimed dryly.
Ladybug turned and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. ‘Is that why it was all swollen?’
He nodded faintly, his cheeks tingling as he kept his lips tightly closed.
‘Exhibit C: During one formal event, Chat Noir attempted to toast the love of his life by clinking his champagne glass…and immediately shattered it in his hand.’
Chat Noir lifted his hands in mock surrender. ‘Woah! Hold up! We checked the label on the glasses. What else did they expect buying them from IKEA?’
‘Are you sure it wasn’t just raw emotional strength.’ Ladybug dropped him a wink, knowing full well that’s what he’d said straight after it had happened. The mortification grew too strong, and he tried to hide in his Lady’s hair.
Maybe if they couldn’t see him, this would stop.
‘Exhibit D:’ Nope, it seemed Carapace had more. ‘He once tried to impress her with ‘the agility of ten panthers’…and fell off a coffee table.’
‘I told you that in confidence!’ Chat retorted, but nothing could stop Carapace. He was dominating that stage like Christian Grey.
‘Twice. Like bro, you have the reflexes of a cat and somehow the survival instincts of a potato.’
Everyone started to laugh again, soliciting another groan from his mouth. Will this shame never end.
‘I have a Witness Statement here from…myself. As someone who has personally fought alongside this guy, I can testify under oath that Chat Noir has: Moonwalked across a battlefield. Stopped mid-fight to flirt. Said the words, “I’ll handle this,” and immediately got hit by a rogue baguette. Which brings me to a Final Deposition: after careful, extremely scientific, and definitely not vibe-based analysis, I conclude: Chat Noir, you are guilty — of being totally whipped, blissfully happy, and an absolute menace to single people everywhere.’
Cheering exploded around the room, Ladybug wiggling on his lap again, as she rotated around to see him.
‘Your sentencing: You are hereby sentenced to a lifetime of forehead kisses, emergency chocolate runs at 2am, and slow dancing badly in the kitchen. No right to appeal. No early release for good behavior. You’re stuck, Kitty. This sentence is purr-manent.’
His lips tugged, as she sentenced him to everything he ever could have wanted.
‘I love you.’
It didn’t matter how many times he said it, the meaning would continue to be unbelievably true.
‘I love you too.’
She kissed him softly on the lips again, the slam of the pizza box overpowering the cheers and chanting.
‘Court adjourned!’ Carapace said, giving Chat Noir a thumbs up and moving back to his decks.
‘It’s an open bar everyone! Let’s do this!’ If anything, Queen Bee didn’t need to be at the open bar; she needed to be home. Catching Viperion’s eye, they exchanged a nod of understanding, Viperion heading straight to Queen Bee and directing her away from the bar.
A soft breath, and the smell he adored hit his senses with a tingling accuracy. ‘Want to get out of here?’
He definitely didn’t need to be asked twice.
Ladybug
Ladybug had been on edge all night—and not in a good way. The regret was eating her alive for having this party because all she really wanted to do was get Chat Noir alone and see if the power down worked.
They’d been dating for five years. That was five years of extreme sexual tension at a time in her life where she should have been exploring.
And the fact that Chat Noir was tightly wrapped like a Halloween Dominatrix didn’t help things. (That… and Adrien Agreste wasn’t knocking down her door to help her scratch an itch). She wanted to be with him, to give herself to him, so fully…so why the hell did she want to make tonight as close to a real wedding as possible?
The time between the ceremony and the end of the speeches had been unbearable. Every time she caught his eye, she just wanted to drag him back to their apartment (yes, theirs), rip his clothes off and see exactly what he had been hiding all this time, because she had no doubt that the outcome would be nothing but exquisite.
They’d run across the rooftops in record time. Landing outside their apartment just as they did the first time she’d arrived here. Before they could move, he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, pulling her towards him before backing against the alleyway wall. Many merry people walked past them, hooting and hollering after one too many beers and wines.
‘Hi, wife! You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get you to myself. Sharing you, when I don’t need to anymore is such a pain in the —’
Before he could start cursing the world, Ladybug pressed a finger to his lips.
‘Tonight is ours.’
Chat took her finger from his lips and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the pad of her index finger. ‘Who knew the old terrorist had a heart?’
He yanked her, pulling her body into his, their hips resting against each other. Please could he just take her upstairs and do what he wanted with her, because all this conversation was making her restless. She had an incantation she wanted to try, and underwear she wanted to be seen.
His hands slowly brushed up her back, his knee bending and slotting in between hers. She bent her own, allowing her body to connect with his, her hands pushing up his body, as his pushed down hers, resting on her lower back. She was tingling and pulsing, and a whole load of other interesting stuff-the need for this man was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Whether it was the possessive streak now that they were married, or an after effect of the ceremony, she really couldn’t care less. If he didn’t make the move and take her up soon she was literally going to be a puddle of goo on the floor.
Her lower lip curved under her top teeth, her hands resting on his shoulders, fingers digging tightly into him. She stretched up on her toes, kissing his lower lip, before pulling it between her teeth. He groaned, a soft whimper before building up into a purr.
‘Stop,’ he said weakly, moving his face from her kissing under her ear and trailing tiny pecks down her neck.
‘Make me,’ she said, challenging him with a sultry smirk, one which had a perfect seduction rate — might she just add.
He groaned, throwing his head back against the wall. ‘What do you do to me?’
‘Whatever you want, Hot Stuff.’
He groaned again. Her body pressed harder into his. She lifted on her toes again, her mouth barely more than an inch from his ear. ‘So what do you want me to do?’
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her back down onto her feet, running his hands the length of her arms and clasping their hands together. ‘I just…I want to check that this is what you want? That you’re okay with all of this.’
‘Are you seriously asking for permission?’
He stretched up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he studied her. ‘Well, yeah. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. If you want to stop, or wait, I know the guardian’s said we needed to but —’
Once again, she placed a finger over his lips. ‘I married you. I love you. And, I swear on Plagg’s mouldy cheese collection, if you don’t take me up to the apartment in the next twenty seconds I will Lucky Charm you to Timbuktu.’
His eyes flickered with something fierce, something she hadn’t seen before. But he obviously understood the severity of her words, as in less than the allocated twenty seconds, she was in his arms and being vaulted up the side of the wall towards their small balcony.
‘Is the door even open?’ she asked, as he lowered her down onto the patio ground.
‘Yes! Why else would I bring you this way?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, let's hope no one snuck up and stole all your belongings.’
‘Our belongings, ma cherie. And the only thing in there worth stealing is your cafetière.’
Ladybug gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. ‘You know the deal, Chaton, no cafetière, no me.’
‘Purr-lease. You know as well as I do, there’s no turning back now. You want me too much to say no.’
‘Unfortunately, that is the truth.’
With all the grace of a cat, he moved, swooping her into his arms and holding her close. She settled herself against him, her hand placed delicately on his chest. His heart was beating so hard. The pounding was a wonderful feel beneath her palm. This was life. This was proof that everything was real, that she was real.
Chat Noir stepped in, holding her effortlessly in his arms, as he carried her over the threshold. Using his foot, he hooked it around the door before kicking it closed with a definite thud. They were alone, closed in their apartment and ready to start the next part of their life. They were locked in. Just the two of them in their half unpacked new home. But amongst the boxes, and the hopes and dreams there was true, pure love.
Placing her down gently, they stood staring at each other. Frozen in a moment of time that both would want to remember.
‘Are you ready?’ Ladybug asked, taking Chat Noir’s hands in her own. He was trembling slightly, her hands feeling the vibrations as she tried to control her own.
His thumb ran soft, circular movements over her knuckles, each one sending a rush of anxiousness down her spine. ‘Do you think it’ll work?’
‘Let’s find out on the count of three.’
They grasped onto each other tighter. Chat Noir let out a slow, deep breath. His hands calming slightly, as he eyes locked on hers. She didn’t want to blink. She didn’t want to miss this moment. She didn’t want to miss seeing him for the first time. Would he be wearing a tuxedo under the suit? Would he be wearing anything under the suit? The sudden thought of him being naked was almost too much to handle, her cheeks burning with the thought.
‘Okay. Let’s say each other’s phrases. On three.’
Pouting her lips, she let out a slow controlling breath. This was it. ‘Okay.’
Their eyes remained locked as they started to count down, once again in the most perfect synchronisation. ‘1, 2, 3…’
‘Spots down,’; ‘Claws down.’
They spoke at the same time, the blinding green and red light mixed together, running down their bodies and taking away their suits, leaving their outfits underneath. Her wedding dress, white when dressed earlier, was now the same design but all in red. Chat looking dashing in his full black suit and gold tie.
‘Holy cheese crackers!’ He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her from the ground. He squeezed her until she was almost breathless, the feeling one of the best in the world.
‘Oh my word! We’re married,’ she said in disbelief. This had worked! Everything they had been promised worked.
‘We’re married,’ he echoed, placing her back down on her feet. He placed his hands on her shoulders before dragging them down her bare skin. The feel of skin to skin left a tingling sensation across her flesh, one which passed through her body and made her need more!
As his hands continued to connect with her skin, she used the opportunity to explore for herself, her hands coming up to trace his jaw, his cheeks, his eyebrows…his lips.
She touched everywhere on his face that she could, memorising the feeling in a way she never had the opportunity to have before. His skin was smooth, flawless. His cheeks pronounced with a tiny dimple on the one side that she adored so much. His jawline was rough, stubble growing in after a long day of celebrating. Stretching up onto her tiptoes, she kissed along his jaw, moving down and nipping at his neck, sucking in slowly before kissing a gentle kiss over the darkening bruise.
‘I love you,’ Ladybug whispered, her lips moving to speak against his lips. They chased after hers, a small just missed kiss brushing her lips.
‘I love you so much. I can’t believe this is real.’
‘It’s real, Kitty. I’m your wife.’
His smile widened even more. ‘You married me in front of people.’
‘I did. I was there.’ She chuckled, stepping back away from him, and taking his hand in hers again. She began to walk backwards, pulling him out the room and towards the bedroom.
‘I think we’ve waited long enough, Noir Bond.’
‘Noir Bond?’ Chat threw his head back in a deep, throaty laugh and she wasn’t sure if they’d make it to the bedroom at this rate. ‘Is that something you like?’
She dropped him a wink, dropping his hands and stalking towards the bedroom, an extra sashay in her step. She stopped in the doorway, one hand stretching up and reaching over her head in the doorframe. ‘That depends, hot stuff. Do you have a license to thrill?’
One hour later, she had her answer. He didn’t just have a license; he was the top of the class.
Chapter Text
Marinette
The two weeks vacation hadn’t gone as Marinette had expected.
Firstly, the lovely relaxing getaway to a Mediterranean island, ended up being two nights at a smelly, ancient temple in Tibet–not exactly the planned five star retreat.
Next, instead of her boyfriend proposing to her, in what she guessed would have been the most unbelievably romantic way, he had no choice but to do it in her small room in said temple because some overpowered monks were forcing them too.
Then finally, instead of just being loved up with a tan, she was now loved up with a husband.
Yep, not at all as she expected.
She made her way through the bustling crowds, to her parents’ boulangerie, not too far away from the Gabriel offices. Her emails this morning had done nothing but made her groan…repeatedly. The whole day was going to be spent with Gabriel and Nathalie, his personal assistant. Meeting after meeting, and many, many discussions about possible lines they may or may not want to release. She knew her head was going to be nothing more than mush by the time she left the office, she just hoped Gabriel was a five p.m. sharp type guy.
The weekend with Chat had been sweet, sweet bliss. They’d spent the whole time hiding out in their apartment, ignoring the world around them.
Monarch had been very considerate too. There had been no akumas. Zilch. Which meant they could really test out their powerdown outfits. They’d have to remember to send him a thank you card through the next akuma.
But yes, married life so far was bliss! Waking up next to the person you love was a great way to start the day. Falling asleep beside them felt so safe and secure. Curling up to binge watch old tv shows was just something she couldn’t describe. Who would have thought watching Smallville and eating M&M’s would be such a game changer?
She turned the corner, almost colliding with a group of tourists before swerving past them and into the boulangerie. As always, the place was incredibly busy. There had been a lot of promotion over the past few weeks, after all they had made the cake for Ladybug and Chat Noir, so their usual busy crowds had just turned insane.
Giving her parents a smile and a quick wave, Marinette wandered around to the opposite side of the counter, grabbing the box of macarons she’d ordered the previous day.
Checking her watch, Marinette saw she had at least thirty minutes to get to the office and it was only a five minute walk. So, maybe she could make herself useful for a moment or two?
‘Want some help?’ she called to her Maman.
Her mother looked up, exasperated, from where her head was halfway wedged into the glass display case, the tongs in her hand locked in a tense standoff with a particularly uncooperative batch of Madeleines.
‘If you don’t mind, love.’
Marinette shot her a grin, stashed her bags behind the counter, and headed to the back to scrub in like a surgeon. When she returned, snapping on a pair of nitrile gloves with theatrical flair, she looked fully prepared to conduct a forensic-level autopsy on the unsuspecting galette.
‘Hi, how can I help?’
The woman in front of her suddenly looked like she had been asked what the capital city of Antarctica was.
‘I, erm, I…’ She stared, wide eyed, as she ran her hands through her hair.
The guy her mother was serving beside her, chimed in with quite the informative choice. ‘If I may, I highly recommend the passion fruit macarons, they’re delicious and best bought in a two or a three. But you could also pair them with something like a rose or mango.’
‘I couldn’t have suggested anything better myself,’ Marinette said, smiling at the customer. ‘This guy knows exactly what he’s talking about.’
She turned her attention to thank the customer, only to instead be met with the back of his head. Blond hair, and tall…very tall. ‘I don’t lie about delicacies. Especially such delicious ones,’ he said as he walked towards the door, his bag in hand.
‘Thank you,’ Marinette called after him. He held up his hand, bag dangling from it and gave her a small wave. His body had disappeared into the crowd yet his blond hair filled her with joy. Not because of this guy, but because she had her own blond at home, one she couldn’t stop thinking about, and wanted to get back to.
‘Is that okay?’ The customer said.
Marinette shook her head wildly to try and think more about blondies than sexy blonds.
She smiled as sweetly as she could. ‘I’m sorry. Could you say that again?’
Twenty minutes later, and a lot of macarons served, Marinette finally pushed through the doorway to Gabriel with a spring in her step. This was it! She was finally here and she was going to make every moment count…so why did she suddenly feel like a kid on the first day at school?
Meeting up with Sabrina at the main reception area, she couldn’t help the anxiety as she made her way into the world she always wanted to be in, fear flowing freely, teasing her that she was going to mess this up.
Adrien
The day had been a dud!
He’d woken up so positive and full of life. He’d had his breakfast with his lady, discussing the most recent news headlines and broad casted theories about who they were, before strolling down to the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie—getting his usual two Passionfruit macarons and a rose one—before heading to the office and being held in his office all day.
If he thought being at home with his father was like being locked up in prison, he was sorely mistaken, because this…this was prison. Prison with the added excitement of math.
After the meeting he’d had with his father and Nathalie, he’d innocently presumed he’d be the welcoming committee for MDC. However, due to his lock up, he hadn’t even managed to meet her today.
And to throw another huge, iron wielding spanner into the works—his father was going into hospital in a couple of weeks time.
What for? Adrien had no idea because he wouldn’t tell him. All Adrien knew was that the employees of Gabriel would be informed he was ‘working from home’, only himself and the new collaborator would know the complete truth. It seemed his father had had this worked out from the very beginning. Bring in a collaborator and sod off for a rhinoplasty or a face lift.
Adrien couldn’t help but wonder if she knew, if MDC had been informed about his father’s inability to see something through to the end. He was surprised Gabriel remained as a company despite his father’s erratic nature of changing and swapping from one thing to the next.
So, before he drove himself insane by sitting in his office and doing nothing, he made his way home and set up his laptop on the table—‘just in case’.
He moved around the apartment, studying the walls and the dull colour already on there. They definitely needed an upgrade.
Tramping back to his laptop, he refreshed the screen.
No new messages.
Adrien pouted, glancing between the laptop of the living area. He was quite sure he could be in and out the DIY store quickly, grab some paint and be back before anyone knew he was even gone. Another quick glance to his laptop and he was sure no one would actually care, he hadn’t received more than three emails all day.
Slowly edging forward, he reached out and closed the laptop screen with a solid thud. He was going to go and get some paint, then paint the lounge area. At least if nothing was going to be happening at work he could make himself useful now.
‘Plagg?’
The kwami surprisingly came on first call, swirling around in front of Adrien guzzling a block of cheese.
‘You rang?’ He said with his best Lurch expression. Adrien hadn’t even realised Plagg was an Addams Family fan.
‘What do think of a change up in here? I was thinking…’ Adrien turned slightly side to side, studying the room. He’d had his sofa transported from his own room in the mansion, along with the coffee table and tv. So really, furniture-wise, this room was pretty much complete. But it was the colour. It needed sprucing up, something a little more exciting. His sofa was white, the coffee table glass, and the bookcase and floor featured a medium oak. The room needed a focal point, a certain je ne sais quoi to really make it pop!
‘Thinking…’ Plagg said, staring at him.
‘How about…we paint that wall over there?’
‘What colour?’
Adrien considered it again. ‘Navy? Dark blue would go nicely with the floor and the wood, don’t you think?’
Plagg hovered around again. Adrien watched him as he studied the walls with great intent.
‘You know what…I actually think that’s a good idea. However, I need to say we isn’t happening. If you want to paint the wall, go ahead and paint the wall. I am not helping.’
‘Who said I wanted you to help? You have a horrible aim. If I let you paint it’ll be everywhere but the wall.’
Plagg flew forward, flapping his little fin in front of Adrien’s face. He was unsure whether he should worry about the angry kwami cataclysming his ass, or bursting out into uncontrollable laughter. ‘Listen, Buddy! I could paint this room before you could even do one wall.’
Adrien pouted, shaking his head from side to side. ‘Naa! I think you’d do one strip and go on hunger strike.’ Adrien reached up and tickled Plagg’s belly. ‘We all know you think with your stomach.’
‘Are you calling me chubby?’
Adrien stared at the kwami for a moment, his head tilting to the side to try and figure the small creature out with great intent. Did Plagg just call himself chubby?
Completely unconvinced by the direction this was now going in, Adrien continued to stare at the kwami.
‘What?’ Adrien eventually said, still no clearer to the direction of this peculiar conversation. He’d make more sense out of watching a three hour epic biopic about someone he didn’t know, in Ancient Latin Greek.
‘Are you calling me chubby?’ Plagg asked again, Adrien still none the clearer of how they got here.
‘I’ll have you know,’ his small creature continued, almost petulant in his tone. ‘I have been cutting back on the full fat stuff. Instead, I’ve been trying out eighty percent dairy cheese.’
Again…‘What?’
Plagg huffed, turning his back on Adrien with the temper of a pubescent teenage boy being told he smelt. ‘You just don’t listen to me. No one listens to me.’
His mind ticked over slowly. Plagg’s behaviour had been different to say the least. Since knowing they were going to be living with Ladybug…with Tikki. Tikki. His lips turned up mischievously. Everything now made sense. He’d finally figured out the cheat for beating the big bad boss on the last level of the game. Plagg was getting nervous about Tikki coming to live with them. He was anxious….and Adrien couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought about this sooner.
‘I’m sure Tikki will enjoy the extra warmth. I hear she feels the cold easily.’
Plagg gasped, loud and offended. ‘So you are indeed calling me fat? I knew it! I knew as soon as you started on your protein and gym kick you’d become this vain, muscley monster.’
‘I don’t think muscley is a word, Plagg?’
‘I haven’t finished yet! You and your…look at me and my thigh sized biceps…and you—’
‘Plagg, claws out!’
Mid rant, Plagg was sucked into Adrien’s ring, sending the once professionally dressed business man into one of every woman’s dreams (just ask the latest issues of ‘Cosmo’ if you don’t agree). Setting sail out of the balcony, he headed in the direction of the local DIY store, all he needed was some paint, some brushes and Ladybug to arrive home ready to be surprised.
What could go wrong?
Ladybug
She’d never been more excited to arrive home. The day had been non-stop and Gabriel had been just as (un)friendly as he’d been perceived. Seriously, the guy had made Frankenstein look like a Care Bear, and to add to everything, the collaboration had been a bit of a ruse. He was actually going into hospital for some kind of operation. While he’d been incredibly vague about it, she had her own suspicions—laser eye surgery, or a face lift. Though, the guy hadn’t a single line on his stone-like face, a clear sign that he’d never expressed an emotion a day in his life.
So, as Gabriel was setting up to swan off to some private hospital for a nip and tuck, she would be working with his son and design team on the new line. Oh, whoopee do! As far as Marinette was concerned, Adrien Agreste didn’t know about fashion, he just knew how to wear it! She was pretty much running the show alone, which was fine, she was skilled, but…sigh..she just didn’t quite know how to feel or what to do about everything. And the paycheck, though lucrative, definitely didn’t cover her being a one-man band. She needed to make sure all designs were done before he left, that way he was doing some of the work too.
Her diary was gridlocked for the remainder of the week. From meeting the design team, to a photoshoot to promote the collaboration, Gabriel had organised her back to back appointment. But at no point did he think she might want to meet Adrien? After all, if he was her point of call, the least Gabriel could have done was introduce them. She was sure she had five minutes where she could fit in a meet and greet. Maybe she could do it as she stuffed her face with a sandwich as he hadn’t even given her a lunch break (all in fairness, he had pinpointed the precise moments she could go to the restroom).
Dragging her feet, she pulled herself up from the Metro and back onto the street of her new apartment. A soft, longing sigh left her lips as she glanced at the ring on her finger. Although she couldn’t tell him much about her day, there was something so nice about making her way back to Chat. She just knew he’d be there, arms open and a glass of wine ready for her. Because that was the kind of guy he was. So thoughtful and caring. He would allow her to put her feet up and relax for a couple of hours before helping her cook. A nice, chilled night without issues. Heaven.
As soon as her feet hit the marble floor of their foyer, she hopped from foot to foot, slipping her heels from her feet and marvelling at the feel of cool air wrapping around tootsies. Not to self: Comfort over style going forward. Chat had warned her that heels this high were going to be a challenge, especially as she hadn’t broken them in beforehand, but as always she acted like she knew better. Now she was crying at the burning sensation left on the balls of her feet and the harsh pain on the back of her heel.
Stumbling forward, she made her way to the stairs, foregoing the lift. She needed to get to him, to be with her husband, because right now that was the only thought keeping her moving despite every step feeling as though she was stepping on hot coals. Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over… Finally she stopped in front of their apartment's door, tempted to drop down on her knees and kiss the damn thing—but instead, she just called on her transformation, before powering down. Her work clothing—the fashionable blouse and high waisted pants—had changed from the navy blue and patterned yellow and grey top, to one many shades of black and red, the Ladybug theme purposefully placed all over it.
The music hit her head on. The powerful sounds of drums and guitars…and really bad singing. She’d never heard ‘Dude looks like a Lady’ in such an off key before, and she knew Steven Tyler was no stranger to hitting those high notes. The music was loud, and Ladybug was certain they would be getting complaints from the elderly residents on the floor below. If they were reported for walking too heavily, there was no way this was being left unnoticed.
She gathered her bag from the floor and moved to the side. They’d recently purchased a wooden coat rack to place by the front door, one which matched the wooden effect of the apartment perfectly and was practical at the same time. She moved towards it, stretching and placing it on the top rack, her coat following on the one above it.
‘Hello?’ she called, certain her husband would not be able to hear her. ‘Hello?’ She tried again, this time a little louder as she moved deeper into the apartment. The singing grew louder, her nose scrunching as she took in the many awkward tones of Chat Noir crooning about never judging a book by its cover.
Moving in the general direction of the crooning, she stopped in the doorway. There was her husband, roller in hand, dancing and painting like a kwami possessed, swirling colour across the walls as if weaving a spell of joy and chaos at once. But that wasn’t all. He was missing one very important piece of attire…
His top.
She couldn’t help but take in the moment. The muscles in his back were working as much as his gyrating hips. It was hard to not drool over him. How could she be lucky enough to be married to this man?
And then he bent down, switching off the music on his phone and placing the roller in the paint.
‘You know…a picture would last longer.’
Leaving the roller in the palette, Chat stood up and turned to face her. Hands on his hips and paint splattered on his face. He looked like a hero fresh from battle, wild and radiant, every inch the reckless, beautiful idiot she’d fallen for all over again.
‘I think I’ve found my favourite home decor show,’ she said, leaning one shower against the door frame. ‘Though I gotta say, it’s a bold choice—‘Disaster Chic’? Very avant-garde. You taking commissions, or is this chaos exclusive to lucky wives?’
His face brightened. His smile blinded her as he stepped forward, the obvious intent to hug or kiss her plastered on his face.
‘Wow,’ she laughed, holding up a hand to stop him, ‘easy there, Picasso Paws—I’d like some of my clothes to stay paint-free.’
‘You could just take them off here. I won’t mind.’ He wiggled his eyebrows. She’d never been more tempted to pick up the paint roller and create one straight line right down his face. But then again, it was such a beautiful thing, she wouldn’t want to spoil it.
‘As tempting as that offer is, you still have a lot of room to paint if you want to get it done today.’
They both studied the room, Chat letting out a sigh. ‘It was harder than I thought it would be. I imagined I’d have it all done to surprise you when you arrived home.’
It wasn’t too far from being finished. Just the top section of the walls. ‘We can do it! You get the ladder and I’ll go and get changed.’
Chat frowned at her like she’d said the weirdest thing ever. ‘Ladder?’
‘Of course—or a step ladder, whichever we’ve got.’
His laugh sounded slightly crazed as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. ‘And if we don’t have either?’
Now it was her turn to look perplexed. How had he started doing this without his ladder? How did he expect to paint the top of the wall?
‘Kitty?’ she questioned gently. ‘How were you going to paint the top part of the wall?’
His eyes darted between her and the jagged line three quarters up the wall.
Finally, he settled his attention back on her. ‘Jump?’ he shrugged.
Her eye roll must have been seen in another dimension. ‘You can’t jump, Chaton. You won’t get the pressure right…’
She glanced between the wall and Chat, when an idea hit her.
‘Give me a chance to get changed and then we’ll try something. I think it’ll work.’
Pushing up onto her toes, she kissed him on the cheek and headed to the back of their apartment and to the bedroom. She may not have the relaxing evening she’d originally envisioned. But there was no doubt in her mind that this was going to be fun!
Chat Noir
Chat Noir watched her walk out the room like an akuma released from Monarch’s grasp—dangerous, beautiful, and impossible to resist. Damn, he was tempted to chase after her but a quick glance around the room was a clear indicator that he had work to do. A lot of work.
When he’d started his grand plan, he hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t reach the top. He was a tall guy — 6 foot 1 inches — with quite an impressive wingspan, but he’d been defeated. The wall was just a couple of inches taller than he could reach comfortably.
Before Ladybug had arrived home from work, he’d been considering just jumping up and down. The neighbours wouldn’t have liked it but he was certain there was a chance it would actually work. However, it seems his ever so resourceful wife had a plan, and if she thought it would work, he had no reason to think anything less.
Flicking the on button on the player, music once again rang around the room, Chat picking up the paintbrush and continuing on the parts he could reach.
Could he have done this with his shirt on? Of course. But the reaction from Ladybug was one hundred percent the reason for not wearing it. If you had it, you had to flaunt it after all.
It was just a little bit of a distraction when his Lady played that game too. And right now, she was playing to win.
His attention snapped to the doorway like the magnet that she was. She stood, her eyes challenging him, as his own skimmed over her body. She wore a loose racerback vest, leaving the black sides of her bra on show, and short — very short — denim shorts. If there wasn’t so much of this wall left to paint he’d be scooping her up and taking her to the shower.
‘Are you ready to do the top?’
Chat Noir knew she’d spoken, damn he was sure he’d heard the words, but he couldn’t quite piece together what she meant.
‘Sorry?’ he stuttered, causing her to laugh.
She sauntered over with more finesse than a catwalk model and took the roller out of his hand.
‘Squat,’ she demanded and he almost passed out.
‘W-what?’
‘Squat,’ she repeated. ‘If you bend down, I’ll climb on your shoulders. Then I can reach the top, and you can carry on with the rest.’
Chat Noir crouched, placing his hands on her waist, savoring the thrill of touching her. ‘You can climb on me any day, M’lady.’
She giggled, stepped onto his leg, and hoisted herself onto his shoulders, paint roller still in hand. ‘Okay, stand up.’
Grabbing the second roller from the tray, he steadied her with one hand on her thigh and stood up—shakily. This was not the kind of thigh training he’d ever expected, but it was absolutely the kind he’d sign up for again. There was just something about having her bare thighs wrapped around his head.
He scolded himself for even thinking that, and they got to work—painting in sync, their movements mirroring each other to the rhythm of the upbeat music that filled the room. They talked, they laughed, and even though his shoulders ached from holding her up for so long, the whole experience felt… right. Like home. Like a husband and wife tackling home improvements together.
‘I think we’re done,’ Ladybug said.
He dropped his roller and took a step back, hands steadying her on his shoulders. ‘It looks good, doesn’t it?’
‘Great choice of colour, Kitty. But do you know where it looks even better?’
His brows furrowed as he surveyed the room, turning slightly from side to side beneath her. ‘I’m not sure. I mean, we could do the whole room, but that might be a bit much. What do you—’
A cold, wet streak dragged across his chest.
He blinked, glancing down. A thick navy line now cut across his torso, making him look like he was wearing one of Gabriel’s latest—and wildly impractical—boob tubes. Above him, his wife burst into laughter.
Before he could respond, she struck again, running the roller from his navel all the way up to his neck.
‘Okay,’ he said slowly, eyes narrowing. ‘So that’s how it is.’
Ladybug wiggled her hips just slightly on his shoulders. ‘Oh no, what are you gonna do? You’re a human ladder, Kitty. I have the high ground.’
‘Yeah?’ he smirked. ‘And I have no shame.’
Before she could react, he lunged toward the tray, dipped his fingers into the paint, and swiped a dramatic streak across her shin. She gasped.
‘You did not—!’
‘Oh, I did,’ he said proudly.
‘You’re asking for war.’
He was about to make a clever retort when a cold, wet finger painted something across his upper lip — a bold blue mustache by the feel of it.
‘Voilà. Now you look like a ridiculous French villain.’
He tilted his head to stare up at her, deadpan, mustache and all. ‘Do I at least look like I’m plotting something sophisticated?’
‘More like plotting how to sneak into a bakery for the fifth time in a day.’
He chuckled, shifting her weight just enough to make her squeal and grab his hair for balance.
‘Careful,’ she warned, laughing. ‘I’ll drop paint down your back.’
‘You’re going to need a new threat,’ he said, turning toward the door. ‘Because after this, you are the one helping me scrub navy paint out of my chest hair.’
‘You don’t have chest hair,’ she laughed.
She slid off his shoulders and landed lightly beside him, both of them covered in smudges and streaks. She looked him up and down, then smirked.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I call dibs on the loofah.’
He grinned, slinging an arm around her waist. ‘Deal. But I’m controlling the water temperature. Last time you nearly boiled me alive.’
‘No promises,’ she teased, leaning up to kiss the corner of his paint-smeared mouth. ‘You looked good, all steamy.’
They headed toward the bathroom, leaving behind a perfectly painted room—and a very imperfect mess.
Behind them, two rollers sat abandoned in the tray, still dripping slightly.
The room may have been finished, but round two was clearly moving to the shower.
And this time, the only thing getting painted was each other.
Chapter Text
Chat Noir
There’s nothing more domestic than a morning routine with your spouse.
Over time, Chat Noir realised he woke up at least half an hour before his wife. Where he was a morning person, she one thousand percent wasn't, which is how they came to this agreement — and by agreement, it basically meant he got out the bedroom and allowed her to finish sleeping.
Each day followed the same operation.
He would wake up naturally, and quietly, and roll her off him. Where he liked his space and silence for sleeping, she was a snuggler, a snorer, and needed a night light. And as always, he was the one to compromise.
So, they would ‘fall’ asleep together, her body hugging him like a coiling snake. Then he’d roll her over — he’d perfected the hug and roll like a pro — then he would turn off the light and fall asleep himself, praying that he made it into a deep sleep before the sudden snore-a-thon.
But then last night, he found out another adorable trait of his wonderful wife.
She battled akumas in her sleep.
He’d just turned the light off, ready to snuggle down on his own side of the bed when ‘The Dreamenator’ started to attack Paris with its super nightlight and pillow gloves. Feathers were flying everywhere, meaning she had to keep her husband safe. She’d thrashed and she’d kicked, and at one point she’d nailed him in the nuts. But it was okay, because the lucky charm — a jar of antihistamines — saved the day.
So, as soon as he woke up, his first stop was always the cafeteria. He’d get the coffee brewing, then make himself his usual morning shake — fruit with a dash of protein powder and just enough cinnamon to kickstart his senses.
That would then follow with his shower and male pruning regime which would be interrupted by none other than sleepy bug, Ladybug’s unfriendly alter ego. The grumpy five foot two hero would stumble into the bathroom complaining about how he had woken her up, curse him out for being so spritely in the morning, then (and this was his favourite part) she would strip her pyjamas off and climb into the shower with him.
So, here he was again. Climbing into the shower, washing his hair and waiting for his wife to join him. It would usually take her about five minutes to realise where he was just so she could come and complain at him and then do the same thing anyway. Every day the same.
Except this one.
The door flung open, Ladybug throwing herself in like the apartment was on fire. She stopped just before she fell head first into the bath. Wiping a hand over the window, Chat removed some of the steam to watch his Ladybug rummage through the cabinets with such ferociousness he thought she was trying to dig for gold. He pushed open the glass door and studied her.
The noise that came from her was more severe than her usual morning growl, as she was half deep under the sink.
‘M’Lady, I don’t think it matters how far you go, you won't be finding Narnia in there?’
She muttered something unintelligible, continuing to throw bath bombs, plasters and toilet rolls out the cupboard. It was like she was auditioning for a reality show called Extreme Bathroom Rummagers: Apocalypse Edition.
‘Ladybug?’ he asked again. Still no response.
She continued to bury herself into the cupboard groaning and whining, every now and then letting out a guttering growl. Every inch of her body had now been consumed by the cupboard, her very round, very perfect butt the only thing he could see.
Closing the shower door, he switched off the shower, and prepared to step out. His wife was still there, still buried under the sink.
‘You know, that won’t lead you to Wonderland. If you want to party with the Mad Hatter, you’ll need to find a rabbit hole.’
‘Har-har!’
Ignoring the clanging and shuffling underneath him, Chat stepped to the sink, grabbing his toothbrush and the toothpaste—or what was left of it. They were down to the bare minimum. The tube rolled up right to the nozzle. He placed his toothbrush down so he could use both hands on trying to put paste on his brush. He didn’t know why she just didn’t replace it. He was certain there were two — maybe three — underneath the sink. She could just bring one up with her when she finally came out.
‘Got it!’ She finally announced, scrambling backwards and almost knocking his legs out from underneath him.
‘Slow down, Tiger!’ he said, placing his toothbrush in his mouth and turning it on.
The clanging started again around his legs, things being thrown back into the cupboard. He’d spent ages working this out. Putting everything in the most perfect spot. Medication together, the first aid kit, spare toiletries…and here she was, treating it like she was on Supermarket Sweep — without any care or attention.
‘What were you after?’ Chat asked, his words muffled by the toothbrush and the sound of buzzing.
‘These,’ she said, holding up a bright pink packet. He squinted, studying it through the mirror. Oh! The picture of the front slapped him around the face, teasing him with what they wouldn’t be doing for the next five to seven days.
Watching her through the mirror, he saw her eyes flicker to the toothpaste tube, before back to meeting his eyes. ‘Is that empty? You might need to put it in the bin.’
He copied her actions, looking from the mirror to the tube, back up to meet her eyes. ‘Nope.’ A slight smugness in his voice. ‘I think we can get a couple more uses out of that.’
They both moved their eyes back to the tube, the poor thing looking like it had been suffocated, resurrected and then suffocated again — the whole tube twisted and mauled to within an inch of its minty fresh life.
‘I’m not sure. I think you need to bin it and get a new one.’
She stretched up on her toes, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before removing her clothing and stepping into the shower. She might be a goddess. She might be his wife. But there was no way he was listening to her on this one. He would not be the one to replace the toothpaste — but he would sure look forward to using a new one the next morning.
Marinette
Marinette had started the day feeling like someone was trying to make her insides appear on the outside. She had horrendous cramps, wanted to cry and needed more than anything to lay in bed and not see anyone for at least twenty-four hours. But no, instead she’d spent the morning attempting to find her emergency set of pads — she really needed to make a note of this date in her calendar for future reference. Had a fight with the toothpaste tube — why couldn’t Chat Noir have just gotten a new one from under the sink. And now, she was being chased around the premises of Gabriel to find out if she wanted to use coral or peach for the dress design.
She didn’t care at this moment. All she wanted to do was find a dark cupboard and just…breathe — or maybe cry. She wasn’t bothered which one happened as long as she was alone.
Chat had already gone when it came to ‘toothpaste gate’. So instead of placing her feelings to him face to face, she’d squeezed the living daylights out of that tube and just about managed to get enough out. Now, it would be up to him tomorrow to get a new tube, because as far as she was concerned there was paste left in there, after all, she’d brushed her teeth with it.
‘Marinette? Can we just—’
‘Marinette? What did —’
Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?
Shuffling along on her heels, she continued down the hallway hoping that the questions would stop if she looked like she was on a mission, which she was. Mission: Leave me alone, I want twenty minutes.
Continuing around the building, the unfamiliar surroundings suddenly made her yearn to be back at her office. She knew the best cupboards there, the ones unlocked and with a bucket to sit on. But here, in the Gabriel building, it was as though they didn’t know women needed an emotional breakdown supply closet to sneak in and cry their ‘men don’t understand’ woes!
She was on the third floor, third round of searching, when finally she found paradise. Heaven with a wet floor sign! Slowly, she moved forward and rested her back against the wall, praying no one would come down the corner to find her and ask her about crochet vs knitting.
Twenty seconds.
She would give it twenty seconds and then she was going in.
Ten seconds.
Her hand moved behind her, edging in the direction of the door knob. Her fingers grasped around it, twisting it slightly and almost causing her to drop to her knees as it clicked and opened. Yes!
Stepping inside, she closed the door and allowed the wonderful, beautiful darkness to blanket over her. Yes! This is what she needed more than anything. This dark, wonderful closet. Taking her phone from her pocket, she tapped the screen to shine a light around the floor. If she could just find something to sit on.
The light caught a mop, a bottle of bleach, an axe (slightly freaky), and a small step ladder. Perfect! Moving towards it, she opened it up and sat down, pulling up her messages and the most recent one from her husband.
Kitty: I hope you got to work on time. I managed to go via a shop and have got you some treats for tonight. M&M’s and marshmallows
Ladybug: I knew I married you for a reason!
Kitty: What? Are you telling me you didn’t marry me for my wit and charm?
Ladybug: Despite of…
Kitty: Cruel! You are a cruel, cruel woman!
Ladybug: Only joking Kitty cat! You know I’m very grateful!
Kitty: I’m not too sure anymore! You’ve wounded my ego!
Ladybug: That thing’s stronger than diamond!
Kitty: Has anyone ever told you you’re mean when you’re on your period?
Ladybug: You’re really throwing out the insults today!
Kitty: What? You’re the one being mean
Ladybug: I’m not being mean! I am hormonal!
Kitty: …
Kitty: …
Kitty: I’m not entirely sure what to say now without making things worse???
Kitty: I love you!
Marinette switched off her phone, her hormones winning out and wanting to let him stew. Yes, she knew she was being dramatic and unreasonable, but at the moment all she wanted to do was sit here, in this dark cupboard, alone…
Which is why, when the door opened and closed, then a body crashed into hers she almost transformed to beat the perpetrator with the mop. This was her cupboard. She had to defend it.
Adrien
With the impending absence of his father, Adrien had found himself the fall boy for pretty much everything. His father wanted to talk about the winter line margins, Nathalie wanted to talk about keeping the staff happy, and both wanted him to be the one wooing the new collaborator. It was now lunchtime, and he still hadn’t had the opportunity to meet with the famed Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
So now, he was trying to hide away for a little peace and quiet. Between the company's pressures and Ladybug’s cryptic messages, he just needed time to think. He was overstimulated and under performing, and darkness sounded totally and utterly appealing right now. Moving through the corridors, he pocketed his phone and searched for somewhere — anywhere — to go. He danced around staff holding tablets or clipboards, ducked under those carrying rolls of fabric and made his way to the one part of the company not many people went to — the third floor bathrooms. Just a couple of minutes and he would be ready to take on the world again, at least he hoped he would.
Target locked, Adrien continued in the direction of the toilets. Only to freeze as someone came out of the ladies room.
Lila fricking Rossi.
He’d managed to avoid her for a week. A whole week. But as always, his luck had finally run out and now he was face to face with one of the reasons he accepted Cambridge for university. He’d been stuck with her for months as a teen, travelling around taking part in many unorthodox photoshoots and constant denials of a relationship. She was ruthless and a manipulator, and right now all he wanted to do was turn invisible — unfortunately his powers didn’t stretch to that, and as much as he didn’t like her, turning her into ash wasn’t an option.
Adrien quickly glanced to the sides, looking for a way to escape. There were two doors: one to the right — solid wood — and one to the left with a rectangular, glass window. The choice was easy. Pushing the door to the right open, Adrien threw himself in without care, stumbling over a bucket — and from the sudden scream — a woman.
‘I’m so sorry.’ The apology came out rushed, almost like an exhale. And it wasn’t until his cupboard mate responded he realised his mistake.
He’d spoken in English.
‘It’s okay. I don’t think you expected someone to be in here.’
Her voice had a french twang to it, but she had responded back in English too. Probably thinking he couldn’t speak French. Too much time in England had reset his default and now, well, he was going to have to stick with it — or look like a weirdo. At least she wouldn’t realise that Adrien Agreste was hiding in the cupboard.
He stumbled around the room a little, hands held out in search of a light switch. He stepped forward, moving slowly and praying he didn’t step on to her, when his hands touched something soft and warm.
A small shriek had him tumbling back a little, staggering over and falling into — what he hoped — was an empty bucket.
‘Sorry,’ the small voice said again.
He shook his head even though he knew she couldn’t see it. ‘It’s my fault, I should have watched where I was putting my hands. I was just trying to find a light switch.’
A strange noise came from his room buddy. ‘Do you mind if we just keep the lights off for now. I’m kind of in… hiding.’
Curious.
‘Me too,’ he responded.
‘From anything in particular?’ he asked. After all, if anyone could sort out work related issues, he was in a damn good place to do that for her.
Adrien heard a soft giggle, one on the edge of despair. ‘Unfortunately not. Just a little overwhelmed at the moment.’
Pushing himself up to standing, Adrien straightened up, turning the bucket over and sitting down. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘Same issues?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, a slight nod of his head. ‘It’s…been a hard week.’
‘Agreed.’
They were silent. The swirl of the air conditioning unit, the faint rumble of conversations creeping in under the door, the vibrating sounds of heels as people walked past. Her harsh sigh left her mouth, as bottles began to shake. She must have slammed her back into the shelves.
‘Why is everything always so hard?’ she said, breaking their silence.
Adrien smiled, amazed at how refined her English was. She wasn’t a natural, not like him, but that wasn’t stopping her. ‘Not everything is hard.’
‘Oh, yeah? Like what?’
He had two options here. He could be the gentleman he was, or allow his more crude, Chat Noir side to creep out. A moment's thought and he was quite sure he’d be fired if his father knew he was using such ideas in front of a lady. So he went with the more gentlemanly approach.
‘Marshmallows.’
He was quite sure he could hear crickets over the silence. Oh boy! Perhaps the crude response would have been the more accurate — and then, laughter. Wild, high pitched cackling.
’Marshmallows?’ she asked through deep breaths.
He smiled, at least he’d managed to help her out of her spiral. ‘Well, yeah they’re squishy after all. All pink and fluffy.’
‘So are unicorns!’
‘You can’t put unicorns in your hot chocolates, or cook them over a fire pit.’
‘True,’ she said, joy etched in her voice.
‘See, it’s all about marshmallows.’
There was a beat of silence, then a rustling sound, followed by a very serious-sounding, ‘Do you rank your squishy foods? Is there like... a spreadsheet? Are gummy bears on there? Tofu?’
Adrien huffed, feigning deep offence. ‘Excuse me, but tofu is not squishy, it’s a lifestyle. And gummy bears are the gateway squish — once you start, you never stop.’
She snorted. ‘And marshmallows are the final boss?’
‘Yes,’ he said gravely. ‘The Elders of Squish. Fluffy. Sticky. Ancient. Possibly sentient.’
She giggled again, the sound echoing slightly in the cramped darkness of the cupboard. ‘Great, now I’m imagining a marshmallow council passing judgment. This one has sinned. Into the cocoa with you.’
Adrien dramatically gasped. ‘You dare disrespect the Marshmallow High Council? They’ll roast you alive — literally. And then smush you between graham crackers and chocolate. It’s how they assert dominance.’
‘Oh no,’ she whispered, playing along, ‘I’m lactose intolerant, that’s a fate worse than death.’
Adrien chuckled. ‘You live by the squish, you perish in the s’more.’
There was a thud as she accidentally knocked her elbow against the wall, laughing too hard to stay still. ‘Okay, okay, you win. Marshmallows reign supreme. But only because unicorns can’t fit in a mug.’
He grinned in the dark. ‘They tried once. Terrible incident. Mug was never the same.’
‘Neither was the unicorn.’
They both dissolved into muffled laughter, which was only interrupted when the bucket he was sat on, gave a loud creak in protest, as if it too was questioning the life choices that led to this particular moment.
‘I swear,’ Adrien muttered, ‘if we’re found like this, crammed in here talking about squishy foods and unicorn trauma, I’m blaming you.’
‘Fine,’ she said breezily, ‘but I’m writing the report. And I’m including the phrase ‘Elders of Squish’ in all caps.’
‘Deal. Just make sure you spell my name right. I’d like history to remember me as the man who defended marshmallows to the bitter, sugary end.’
He was smiling brighter than he had since he’d arrived at work that morning, the anxiety of work and his wife fading into the background.
‘Thank you,’ she said, the gratefulness oozing off her like honey. ‘I needed that.’
He heard the soft shuffle of feet on the floor, followed by the quiet click of the cupboard door unlatching.
‘I should probably get back to work,’ she said, her voice tinged with that awkward mix of embarrassment and reluctant amusement. ‘Would you mind… facing the other way while I slip out? It’s a little mortifying that I snuck in here when… well, yeah.’
She didn’t finish, but Adrien understood. Some days just needed a cupboard and no questions asked.
‘Of course,’ he said, turning around on the upturned bucket he’d been using as a seat. He faced the opposite wall, arms crossed casually. ‘Your dignity is safe. No judgment from the guy also hiding in cleaning supply darkness.’
He heard the door creak slightly as she paused.
‘Maybe we’ll meet again,’ he added, before he could stop himself. It sounded cheesy out loud, but it was true. Emotional breakdown buddies didn’t come around every day.
‘Sure,’ she replied, lightness returning to her voice. ‘I’m pretty sure this won’t be my last public spiral. See you around… Bond.’
Bond?
The door closed behind her with a soft click, plunging him back into shadowy silence.
‘Wait—what did she mean by Bond?’ he muttered to himself.
He squinted at the door, half-expecting her to poke her head back in with a clarifying comment. Nothing. Just the muffled sounds of normal life outside, as if emotional hide-and-seek in janitorial closets were standard operating procedure.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Adrien pulled it out, distracted, only to feel his heart skip as he saw the name lighting up the screen.
M’Lady.
He opened the message.
M’Lady: Hi Kitty ♥️ I’m sorry about the mood swings. I hope you’re having a good day. I love you loads and will cook you a truly Miraculous meal tonight. You put up with so much from me xo
A smile tugged at his lips. His day might’ve gone sideways into mop-scented therapy, but somehow, this made it all feel okay.
‘Now this,’ he whispered, smiling down at the screen, ‘this is the kind of message a man needs after being emotionally outdone by a total stranger in a cupboard.’
Chat Noir: You have no idea how much I love you. Be as moody as you want—I will still worship the ground you walk on, heels, huffs, and all 😽
M’Lady: If only you could see the intensity of my eye roll right now 🙄 Might’ve caused a small earthquake
Chat Noir: Pretty sure it still doesn’t top the one you gave me last night… right before you couldn’t stop kissing me 😏
M’Lady: You’re impossible
Chat Noir: I prefer irresistibly persistent. It’s in my charm skill set, right next to professional distraction and certified heart thief 😎💚
M’Lady: You forgot serial flirt and walking catastrophe
Chat Noir: All part of the package. And yet… you still keep coming back for more. Care to explain that, My Lady?
M’Lady: Tch. It’s definitely not the puns
Chat Noir: Lies! You live for the puns. It’s the glue holding this relationship together
M’Lady: That, and your annoying face. And the fact that I might just love you more than every star in the sky. Maybe. On a good day
Chat Noir: So... today?
M’Lady: Today’s a good day 🖤
Chat Noir: Then I’m counting stars. Starting with you.
Adrien stared at the screen, a stupid grin plastered across his face in the darkness of the storage closet. He couldn’t wait for this day to finally be over so he could return home to his wife and kiss her stupid. He might even be nice enough to replace the toothpaste.
Maybe.
Chapter Text
Adrien
‘That did not happen!’ Adrien snorted, twisting the cap off his bottle of water and pressing it to his lips.
‘It did…twice! I was told to just stand there and to look like my long lost love was with another woman and I was trying to win him back.’
‘And you just…cried?’
A slight chuckle came from the back of the dark cupboard. ‘Not just cried! I sobbed… like a baby! I fell to my knees and everything, they must have thought I’d lost the plot!’
Adrien smirked. ‘Did you ever have it?’
Something soft hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground.
‘Rude!’ She laughed again. The sound of rustling paper met with the laugh, before something else hit his chest. A hand holding a croissant. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I packed too many so you might as well have one too.’
He took the croissant. The pastry was flaky and soft under his grasp. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Adrien sat down on his overturned bucket and took a bite. It melted as soon as it touched his tongue — buttery and delicious and exactly like…
‘Tom and Sabine’s?’ he asked, swallowing down his little piece of heaven. His mother would be so disappointed if she saw him talking with his mouth full.
‘Yeah.’
There was a warmth in her voice as she spoke and he couldn’t help but smile. He wondered who this person was. If she’d had a photoshoot, was she a model? She must be. Who else would have a photoshoot? He tried to think of the itinerary for today, but it seemed if he was directly involved he didn’t need to know.
‘So, what happened next?’ he asked.
‘I had to have a full hair and make up redo, and they threatened the photographer he was going to lose his job.’
Adrien smiled. ‘You must really love your husband.’
He took another bite of the croissant, his thoughts drifting to his wife. He would have been exactly the same if it had been Ladybug. Just the thought of her with another man was enough to send a block of ice sailing into the pit of his stomach.
She sighed. It was something out of a fairytale. Pure, devoted.
‘He’s my everything. Being with him feels like finding the missing piece of my soul — like we were never meant to exist apart. It’s more than just love; it’s as if we were two halves of the same heartbeat. Every time I have to leave him, it’s like tearing my heart from where it truly belongs, and the ache is unbearable. I don’t just miss him — I feel incomplete without him.’
Adrien smiled. ‘I feel the same way about my wife.’
He took another bite of the croissant, enjoying the way the delicate pastry felt. This was good! Even if the whole room smelt like cleaning products.
Maybe he should try and get her to move their meeting point to the fabric store room instead. Though, food and drink in there would be an instant dismissal.
He swallowed down the chunk he’d bitten off before asking her his next question. ‘You said it happened twice…what happened the second time?’
The sound of a bottle opening was met with a rather raspy groan. ‘They told me to imagine he had died.’
Adrien snorted. Yep, that would do it.
Marinette
Marinette understood now why she never wanted to model her own designs. She hated it! Every single little thing about it was worse than dreaming she’d taken her BAC exams naked. Gabriel had monitored every moment of the shoot directing her, and eventually stepped in when the photographer was fired with enough force to send him to the moon.
Who knew Gabriel Agreste had more skills than just designing?
Surprisingly, he was easy to work with, finishing her shoot quickly and effortlessly before calling the magazine the feature was for and threatening to never do business with them again.
Today was the final day Gabriel was in the studios before going on his prolonged leave, meaning it was her, the designers and his son…who she was yet to meet.
Adrien Agreste had been vacant for the whole of the first week, working two days from home and the others in the office tucked away from the outside world. Which was all great and dandy…for him! He was about to be the guy running the show, yet she wouldn’t be able to point him out in a crowd. Yes, she knew who Adrien was when he was nothing more than a teenager — she’d fantasised about him enough during that time — but it had been years since Agreste junior had shown his pretty face anywhere. For all she knew he could be twenty stone with a ponytail and beard to make the most fierce Hell’s Angel jealous.
She didn’t like to swear, but she was quite sure she was about to be part of a very serious shit show, and most likely lose any credibility she’d gained over the years.
Why had she agreed to this?
If she’d known Gabriel was jumping ship she would have probably declined his offer gratuitously.
Sketchbook in hand, she straightened her back and made her way from the storage cupboard to the meeting rooms. Her little lunchtime getaways were the only thing keeping her sane. The unknown British guy being a great distraction from the world outside.
Everything just seemed like it was happening too quickly, and not just work, at home too. Everyday was just getting more and more difficult, and it wasn’t because she didn’t like living with Chat Noir, goodness no! It was the complete opposite. Everyday was pure torture because it was another day she didn’t know him out of the mask, that she couldn’t meet him for coffee, or surprise him at work and take him out to lunch.
Living with him had been a dream! He was everything she thought he would be and more. He was perfect! He was incredibly house trained and wonderfully attentive. Dinner would be on the table often. Washing done, folded and put away. Rooms tidy and warm embraces waiting for her when she arrived home.
And it just made her want him more!
With a sigh, she brushed one hand down her pencil skirt and opened the door. This was the last meeting with Gabriel and it needed to be a good one.
Three hours later, she opened the door to her apartment and almost collapsed on the ground. It hadn’t been a good meeting at all. It had been a headache which continued to grow. It wasn’t just her who’d found out Gabriel was leaving this week, it was Adrien too, which was the reason why she hadn’t met him yet. He was spending his time trying to set up and organise the company before stepping foot into his father’s shoes.
But today was the day she finally met him. And, boy, she wouldn’t forget it.
Gabriel and Adrien were nothing alike — to the point that if you didn’t know they were father and son you wouldn’t even consider it.
Gabriel stood, stoic, hands clasped behind his back and using his height as an advantage to overpower them. Adrien, however, sat opposite Marinette, relaxed and charming — with her at least. Watching him with Gabriel was like watching two Alpha males trying to stake their claim on the pack. They were feisty. Grappling with each other to a point where Marinette thought she was going to have to step up and separate them.
The father was ruthless in his attacks on his son. Adrien was completely overpowered by his father, even when he was right, which meant Marinette’s justice radar went into overtime. She couldn’t help but stand up for him, stand up for what she saw as right. Gabriel was having none of it though. What he said was right and Adrien was dismissed as nothing more than an inexperienced member of the staff.
Where the inexperience was obvious, he knew his stuff. He knew numbers and worked out strategic plans which made perfect sense — to everyone but his father.
She’d left them both arguing in Gabriel’s office, needing to get home and away from this place.
She stepped into the apartment feeling like the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders. After everything that had happened over the past week or so, the excitement of the collaboration was slowly turning into a nightmare. She had definitely bitten off more than she could chew and she just had to pray she didn’t choke.
‘Hello?’ Taking her coat off and swinging it on the hook, she noted the lack of light coming from anywhere in the apartment. No sound. No movement. Chat must still be at work.
She moved down the hallway, wondering if she should give him a call. He said he would be home before her, but if his work place was anything like hers that meant nothing. You didn’t know you were finished until you were literally told to go.
Ladybug: If I don’t respond when you get home, it’s because I’m in the bath 🛁
The response came moments later as she was pouring her bubble bath under the warm water.
Kitty: Hopefully won’t be too late. I’ll bring something home for us to eat. Don’t worry about cooking, love. Enjoy your bath ❤️
Opening Audible, Ladybug found her latest audiobook, selecting the chapter she was on and placing her phone on the sink near the head of the bath. She continued moving around, finding her body wash, face scrub and shampoo, before heading to the bedroom to choose her pyjamas.
Flicking through her wardrobe, there were a fair few outfits sticking out, calling for her to wear them. Some cute, some comfy, some sexy…then there was something else. One of Chat’s shirts hung up on the wardrobe door, and another idea won out. There was nothing he would enjoy more, than coming home to his wife in his shirt — the possessive Kitty that he was.
She grabbed the hanger, taking it with her back into the bathroom and hanging it up. Yep, she was certain this was going to be the treat he deserved.
Removing her clothes, she stepped into the warm bath. Slouching down under the bubbles, and allowing the warmth to seep into her bones as she settled down to listen to her latest story of a Formula One driver and his fake girlfriend…who really is — pretty much — his real girlfriend, they just weren’t admitting it.
Chat Noir
Chat Noir walked into the apartment and threw his keys on the table before rubbing his eyes. The day had been utter hell. After the fun time hiding out in the cupboard being himself — not Adrien Agreste the famed Gabriel Agreste’s son — he’d ended up meeting the collaborator and having a full blown argument with his father in front of her.
Nothing said welcome to the company more than stepping into the middle of a family feud. But his father was insane. Absolutely insane! The ideas he had for the company, and the finances involved in said ideas, were so far fetched, they may as well come with a radiation warning. Luckily, Marinette — their collaborator — had more than just good looks because she was with Adrien every step of the way, something else which royally pissed off his father.
They had the launch party in a week, his father already jumping ship beforehand for whatever reason, leaving Adrien there in the hot seat to run a company he had no desire to even be in. This was just going to go from bad to worse.
Calling on his transformation, Chat Noir powered down leaving him in his suit and mask. Everything inside him was vibrating with pent up energy, just like it always did after going head to head with his father. Dropping the jacket from his shoulders, he grabbed the knot in his tie loosening the grasp on his throat before undoing the top couple of buttons. Before toeing off his shoes.
He toed off his shoes and moved into the lounge, glancing around and setting his sights on his piano sitting in the corner. Ladybug had thought it was there for a decoration, ‘more money than sense’ she’d said. If only she knew.
He smiled, his head turning in the direction of the bathroom, the faint sounds of some crappy sports romance she was listening to again.
Heading to the piano, he sat down, rolling up the sleeves on his shirt and spreading his fingers over the keys. He hadn’t played much in the past couple of years. There was no piano at his apartment in Cambridge, and he rarely went home in between semesters, choosing in England with Félix instead.
He stroked the keys — slowly, lovingly, before positioning his feet on the pedals.
Closing his eyes, he moved from memory — pressing the pedals and caressing the keys. Music flowed through the apartment, a soft, gentle melody that calmed his nerves and allowed him to think. He became lost in the song, allowing everything to happen automatically, his brain relaxing and emptying from the chaos running around in there. This was good. The calm, the familiarity, the control.
He continued to play. The tune wrapping around him like a warm wind — smooth and loving.
As the melody slowed to the end, he felt something on his shoulders. Hands. Hands which moved down his chest. His Lady rested her chin on his shoulder pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Her smell wrapped around him like a promise of safety, allowing him to fully relax for the first time that day.
‘You play so beautiful,’ she whispered, pressing another kiss gently under his ear, right in the spot that made him purr. ‘I never knew.’
One hand lifted from the ivories, grasping onto hers as the other continued to move in perfect precision. He tugged her. Pulling her down and onto his lap. He gasped, his fingers slipping ever so slightly when he noticed what she was wearing — or lack of what she was wearing. His shirt barely covered anything. Her long, lean legs on full display as her bare feet settled on top of his.
His lips found her neck, a quiet moan leaving her lips as he continued to leave a trail up and down.
She’d left the top couple of buttons undone on his shirt, and with a gentle tug her shoulder released. He’d never be able to wear this shirt again without picturing her perfect, pale skin offering itself out to her.
‘Here,’ he said, pulling his lips from her skin just enough to mumble out the words. He took hold of her hands, using his bigger, longer fingers to move hers over the keys. His feet continued to press the pedals, his lips continuing their assault on her shoulder.
‘I’ll never wear this shirt again,’ he whispered, voice low and rough against her skin. ‘It’s yours now, love. Always.’
His lips traced a slow, reverent path up her chin, scattering kisses like falling petals along her jaw. She shifted slightly in his lap, a soft, teasing movement that stole the breath from his lungs and set fire to the last of his restraint.
‘Keep playing, M’Lady,’ he murmured, the words barely more than a breath, ‘and I’ll keep falling.’
One hand gently slipped from hers, as though reluctant to part, and found its way to the soft curve of her stomach. She didn’t speak—she didn’t need to. The piano carried her voice now, notes floating into the quiet room, brushing the walls with something sacred.
And in that silence, in the warmth of her body and the music she made, he realised: this wasn’t just a moment. It was a promise.
‘Tough day?’ he asked quietly, his fingers moving slowly to the buttons on her shirt, undoing them with care, not urgency—like each one was a way to help her breathe again.
She gave a soft, tired sound—half sigh, half moan. ‘Something like that.’
‘You don’t have to carry it alone,’ he murmured, brushing a kiss just below her ear. ‘I’m here if you want to talk.’
The fabric parted, and his hands met the soft warmth of her skin. She kept playing, her melody calm but laced with emotion. He guided the pedals with his feet, one hand gently joining hers, following her lead like he always did — steadfast and sure.
‘It’s a long story,’ she said quietly, her voice weighed with more than just the day. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, deeper this time — but not rushed. Just present. Just hers.
‘We’ve got time,’ he said, meaning every word.
She leaned back into him, grounding herself in the comfort of his embrace, one hand slipping from the keys to rest gently behind his neck. The music softened, but the closeness deepened.
‘Make me forget… just for a little while,’ she whispered.
And like he always did — like he always would — he held her close and let the world fall away, note by note, heartbeat by heartbeat.
Chapter Text
Marinette
There seemed to be three modes to Chat Noir’s temperament. Back-arched and cat-like, all languid grace and aloof charm, he could lounge on a rooftop for hours, tail flicking with idle amusement, voice like velvet. Then there was pounce-on-her mode—unpredictable and wildly affectionate, where he’d appear out of nowhere, all grin and boundless energy, as if the very sight of her short-circuited his self-control. And finally, there was tetchy-cat mode—all narrowed eyes and bristling sass, claws just under the surface, usually brought on by jealousy, wounded pride, or the injustice of being denied a pun. Three modes, one cat. And somehow, all of them maddeningly him.
And this morning, he was as tetchy as all butterflies, as he stomped around the apartment like he had a personal vendetta against the floor.
He was fine when he woke up. Morning routine followed—she’d caved in and opened the new toothpaste—and she hadn’t accidentally hit him in her sleep. It was a win-win situation…except it wasn’t. Because as soon as a message arrived from his father he’d turned into a temperamental asshole.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ladybug finally said, placing down her mug and glaring at her husband over the counter.
He was studying his phone again. The damn thing rarely left his hand this morning. She had half a mind to grab it and launch it out the window.
‘It’s nothing,’ he huffed. His thumbs tapped around on the screen and he hadn’t even given her a look — zero indication he was part of this conversation.
‘Well, it’s obviously something.’ She pushed. ‘You haven’t even looked at me since you got that message.’
He looked at her then. His eyebrows pulled together, before turning his attention back to his phone.
She tried again. Determined to get the truth from him. ‘Listen, I know there’s issues with your father. But if you just—’
‘It’s fine,’ he interrupted, his tone clipped and void of anything that sounded remotely fine.
She picked up her mug again, taking it to the sink. ‘If you need to talk, I can listen. There’s this guy at work—’
Chat scoffed, standing up and pushing his chair away from the breakfast bar. He grabbed his jacket, threading his arms through the sleeves like it had personally offended him.
‘Of course there’s a guy at work,’ he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
‘Excuse me?’
He shrugged as though he hadn’t just single handed lit a stick of dynamite. ‘It’s just…this guy at work seems to be coming up a lot at the moment.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’
Ladybug stood there gobsmacked. ‘Exactly what are you implying?’
When Chat had brought up the conversation about work, she’d unloaded her woes as best she could without giving away names. So, of course Adrien and British Guy had come up in conversation—with a little editing. Yes, she might have spoken about him more than anything else, but, apart from Sabrina, she wasn’t really working with anyone.
‘You wanted to know about my day. You asked me.’
‘Well, I didn’t expect there to be some English asshole out there trying to cosy up with my wife.’
He was being unreasonable and unbelievable, and it was taking everything in her to stay calm. ‘Can you hear yourself? Do you really think a random guy with an English accent would just swoop in and steal me? Destroy what we have? It took me five freakin’ years to just date you! Do you think I’d really fall for someone in five days?’
As she grew more and more angry she could see him shying away. His movements became slower, his shoulders lifting, his jaw doing that strange movement like he was grinding his back teeth.
Seeing the angry lion suddenly turn into a little kitten gave her a chance to approach without him trying to bite her head off. She stepped forward, closer to him, but still far enough away in case he snapped again. ‘Don’t you think,’ she said softly, ‘That if I wanted to be with someone else I would have done that years ago? Do you really think I would have married you if there was a possibility of someone else out there better for me than you? Because if that is what you think, we really need to talk.’
He lowered his gaze to the ground, looking at his feet as he kicked one foot forwards and backwards. She could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he considered a possible answer.
When he spoke, it was soft and quiet. ‘But he has a British accent.’
Standing still, she wondered what the hell his obsession was with someone with an English accent. Had she given him any indication of wanting someone with an English accent—if so, he was sorely mistaken.
‘And?’ she asked. He shrugged again, eyes still firmly fixed on the ground. All of a sudden, the big, bad mighty Chat Noir grew somewhat speechless. She waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally he spoke. ‘I’ve—’ he coughed, shifting his shoulders around uncomfortably.
‘Yes?’ She urged.
‘I’ve…I’ve heard those…things.’ He whispered the word as though it was forbidden.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘You’re going to have to give me more information than that.’
‘I’ve heard the…novels you read. The ones which are…’ Once again, his words were left hanging in the air.
She didn’t read novels. There wasn’t any time between work and sorting out her husband, so how could he have heard a novel…everything inside her froze. She’d misheard the conversation completely, which was ironic considering how much he heard about hers.
Oh, no.
He hadn’t just seen the novel she was reading—he’d heard it. And right now, she was deep in her British Agent era, binging mummy romances like they were part of a five-star tasting menu. But that was her guilty pleasure, her little escape from reality… not her wishlist.
She didn’t want a British Secret Agent. She wanted him dressed as a British Secret Agent. Preferably in a tux. Definitely with a martini. A step up from James Bond, and all hers.
Suppressing a grin, Ladybug stepped forward, her fingers finding his tie and twirling it. ‘You completely misheard the audiobooks, Chaton. I don’t want an English accent. I want a hot male with skills and emotional depth. I want my husband in a tux.’ She gave the tie a playful tug. ‘Every single dream and fantasy involves you, Kitty. When I’ve already got the hottest hero the world has ever seen, why would I go running to anyone else?’
He sighed and tilted his head back with a groan. ‘Sorry… it’s just… you know how my father gets in my head sometimes.’
‘I know,’ she said softly, smoothing her hands down his tie, then curling them around the lapels of his suit jacket. With a little tug, she pulled him down to her shoeless level—his world, his gravity, right there in her eyes.
He leaned in until their foreheads touched, his smirk already brewing. ‘You’re ridiculously short, you know that?’
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a smile she couldn’t quite hide. ‘And here I was thinking you’d try being nice to me today.’
He laughed, warm and effortless, looping his arms around her waist like it was second nature. ‘If I didn’t tease you, you’d start to worry something was wrong.’
‘Mmm, touché,’ she giggled, rising onto her tiptoes just enough to close the gap.
And then she kissed him. Softly. Sweetly. But deliberately, like she wanted it to echo in his memory for the rest of the day. Her hands clung to him, not out of insecurity, but out of something deeper—something that whispered: You’re my person. And I’m not going anywhere.
He didn’t have to say it aloud, but sometimes she caught it in his eyes—that flicker of doubt, wondering if someone like her could ever stay. But he didn’t know. He was the plan. He was the safety, the storm, the stillness. There wasn’t a version of her life where he wasn’t the center of it.
You don’t need to worry, she thought, pressing her lips a little more firmly to his. You’re it. You’ve always been it.
When she finally pulled away, she smirked, eyes dancing. ‘Just making sure you remember who you belong to.’
He looked a little dazed, a little lovestruck. ‘Oh, trust me. Burned into my brain.’
Good. Let it be branded.
Adrien
‘Have you ever done anything unreasonable?’
A giggle came from the other side of the dark closet. ‘Unreasonable is my middle name.’
‘I’m sure it’s not.’
‘Maybe not quite, but I am a pro at doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.’
He could hear the smile in her voice, the way she could make fun of herself without worry. She was fun, and he was sure—if he introduced her to Ladybug—they could be great friends. There was something so similar about the two of them, almost as though when he was talking to this random girl he was talking to his lady—and after his conversation with Ladybug this morning, he had no right to compare the two.
He hated how his jealousy determined his behaviour. He hated how he’d made out she was doing something he knew she never would. He was a horrible, horrible person for even thinking about it.
‘I think I pissed off my wife.’
The snort that came from his closet buddy had every inch of him prickling. She coughed a couple of times, obviously being caught mid swallow, before answering. ‘Isn’t that what husbands are for?’
He took a moment to absorb her words before speaking—tentatively, carefully.
‘Does your husband piss you off?’
The soft rustle of fabric hinted at a shrug. ‘Sometimes. I’m sure it's two-way, too. I can be a bit of a handful, as can he.’
‘I’ve never thought about it that way. My wife can be a little…overpowering sometimes. Like she’s amazing! The greatest woman to ever live, but if she wants something her way, she gets it.’
‘And you don’t mind at all, do you?’
He could hear the smile in the words. The smugness. The joy. As if she knew exactly what he was on about.
‘I don’t mind at all. My sole purpose on earth is to adore that woman.’
She giggled. ‘Every girl’s dream. But my husband is the same too. He’s just chaotically perfect.’
Adrien smiled. It was so nice to talk to someone about Ladybug, even without names. Yes, he might be using an English accent, but he could just use it as practice for swooning his Lady. Afterall, as much as she tried to deny it, those audiobooks spoke for themselves and as far as he was concerned Ladybug wanted something a little more British and a little more deadly, and who would he be to deny her that—especially when he knew how good he looked in a tux.
Marinette
Nathalie had been rambling on for a good thirty minutes about the difference between baby blue and frost blue, where one could work wonderfully with the decor for the event, whilst the other would look vulgar and dark. Marinette hadn’t the heart to tell her the baby blue she was colouring in was completely different to the ream of fabric they had already ordered.
‘Maybe we could just use the frost blue instead,’ Marinette said, hoping to get the colour she wanted originally anyway! It was Gabriel’s idea to go with the baby blue (not the 66 shade in Nathalie’s hand, but the 144 not too dissimilar to the frost blue), pulling Nathalie along with him for the ride.
But without him here now, and Nathalie’s disregard for the colour number, it seemed luck was finally falling on her side.
‘I feel the frost blue would compliment the white rather than overpower it.’ Marinette spoke calmly, professionally, when all she wanted to do was punch the air and cheer in success. All it took was for Gabriel to leave the premises and people were finally seeing things in her way—also known as the right way.
Nathalie lowered her glasses on her nose, scanning the designs once more before nodding. ‘Let’s get them down to production design and see what they look like.’
Marinette glanced at the room. It was only the two of them and she was almost certain they needed a third to sign off on designs.
‘Is Adrien not checking them over? In place of his father?’
Nathalie shook her head. ‘No. He’s out of the office this afternoon, had to visit a vendor just out of the city and won’t be coming back.’
That was a shame. She was almost certain he would have been there with her, cheering her on against Nathalie like an overenthusiastic cheerleader. The guy was like a golden retriever and she couldn’t help smiling as she considered him chasing a ball around for praise.
‘Great. So, let's get them to design.’ Marinette pushed herself back, away from the table, and stood up ready to get out of there. After Chat’s mood this morning, she’d had the most brilliant idea…she just needed time to execute it. She grabbed her sketch pad, placing it in her bag, when Nathalie called her name.
‘The launch party has been moved forward to this weekend. You will need to wear something chic, not overly formal, and be prepared to answer questions to the press. We are keeping Gabriel’s absence away from the media so any mention will unfortunately void your contract and the line. Same goes for any interest in Adrien.’
Slowing her moves, Marinette stood staring into the icy blue gaze of Nathalie Sancoeur and, for the first time, a small trickle of fear ran the length of his spine. This woman could be scary when she wanted to be.
‘I don’t intend to do anything to complicate this partnership, Miss Sancoeur. And I feel you need to maintain a little trust in me. I may be young, but I’m not new to pressure and media coverage. As for Adrien, I am in a very happy and stable relationship and have zero intention of throwing something strong that I’ve built away from a meaningless fling with a once famous model. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Swinging the bag up onto her shoulder, Marinette stalked out the room, head high and hips swaying. If Nathalie thought she would fall to bullying she had another thing coming.
As for Adrien, she felt bad for what she’d said about him, because truth be told, he was still very attractive and seemed like a really lovely guy. But she wasn’t one for workplace flings and she most certainly wasn’t going to jump on him just because he was handsome and was sweet. If that was the case, she’d been jumping on the guy who’d smiled at her and given up his seat on the Metro that morning.
With a huff, she stomped her way out of the door and head held high. Chat Noir was going to be late home from work tonight and she had a surprise to prepare for him. She just needed to push Nathalie’s crazy words out of her mind and get home.
Chat Noir
The day had started off poorly and somehow managed to spiral into a full-blown disaster by noon. After his ‘don’t mess up’ message from his father that morning (in less polite terms) and his usual lunchtime closet rendezvous, Adrien had been sent to meet a vendor who spent thirty percent of their meeting explaining why his 32-year-old niece was “perfect wife material” and the remaining seventy skimming over distribution costs like they were a footnote. By the time he stepped into their apartment, he was dangerously close to dramatically collapsing onto the floor like a fainting Victorian heiress—hand to head and everything.
Instead, he just groaned, kicked the door shut with his foot, and powered down his transformation in a sigh of green light. His suit melted away, leaving him in his soft hoodie and jeans, his hair a tousled mess that he didn’t have the energy to fix. Home. Sanctuary. Possibly pizza. He could’ve wept.
He trudged toward the kitchen, intending to scrounge up something edible—or at the very least, a slice of cheese—but paused when he spotted a bright pink Post-it stuck to the counter. It was attached to a fully-loaded Nerf gun.
In Ladybug’s unmistakably chaotic handwriting, it read:
Battle time. You lose, you cook. I lose, I graciously accept takeout. Your move, kitty.
🐞💋
Chat Noir blinked. Then he grinned. Slowly. Dangerously.
‘Oh, it’s on, Bug.’
He barely had time to reach for the Nerf gun before the first foam dart whizzed past his ear—the sound like a wasp on a mission.
‘Ambush?!’ he gasped, moving to the lounge and diving behind the couch.
‘Strategic advantage,’ came her voice from somewhere near the hallway. ‘You looked like you needed a cardio boost.’
‘I needed carbs, not combat!’
With great ease, he stretched up, looking from the sofa to the direction of the hallway. No sign of her. Slowly, he clambered unattractively over the back and readied his gun, only for a second dart hit the back of his hoodie.
‘That one was for dodging the laundry all week!’ she called, laughing.
Chat Noir launched off the couch and sprinted low across the floor, Nerf gun cocked, foam darts flying wildly as he rounded the kitchen island and saw the undisputable ponytail hiding in the corner.
‘You know what else I’ve been dodging? Your smug little smirk every time you win at Mario Kart!’
‘Oh please,’ Ladybug shouted from her hideout behind the laundry hamper, ‘that’s not dodging, that’s called losing!’
‘Oh, that’s it.’ He dove, rolled, fired. Missed.
She nailed him in the chest.
‘Shot through the heart!’ he cried, collapsing dramatically against the kitchen cabinets. ‘Tell my plants I loved them.’
Ladybug cackled—cackled—and emerged with both hands up, clearly feeling smug and invincible.
‘It’s a good job you use a staff for fighting. You have a terrible aim!’
‘Point the lion too much and he’ll pounce M’Lady.’
She glanced around the room dramatically. ‘I can’t see a big, bad lion. Just an itty bitty puddy tat!’
Big mistake.
Adrien leapt up from the floor like a resurrected action hero, caught her off guard, and tackled her gently through the hallway and onto the carpet in a flurry of squeals and laughter. The Nerf guns flew from their hands as they landed in a heap, tangled limbs and flushed faces, both breathless and grinning.
She looked up at him with mock annoyance. ‘Dirty move, Chaton.’
‘I learned from the best,’ he said, leaning closer, brushing his nose against hers. ‘Besides… I won.’
‘Oh, did you?’ she asked, tone daring.
And then they were kissing. Messy, giggly, giddy kisses, right there on the living room floor, foam darts scattered around them like confetti as they lost themselves in soaring kisses and fumbling hands.
Eventually, she pulled back, slightly dazed. ‘So… takeout?’
He blinked, then lit up like Christmas. ‘Absolutely. Thai?’
‘Extra dumplings.’
He growled, deep in his throat. ‘I knew I married you for a reason.’
Reaching between them, he grabbed his phone and found the app. With a quick search he found their usual, ordering enough to feed a small horse (or two Kwamis) and clicked pay.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked almost tentatively, her hands trailing up into his hair.
He shrugged, eyes closing to lose himself in the caressed. ‘Better than earlier. I’m so sorry about how I behaved. After all these years he is still just…’ Chat closed his eyes and tilted his head back, moving it slightly to get her hands in the right place. ‘He just knows exactly how to get to me. It wasn’t even bad what he said—’
‘It was the way he said it.’ And this was the reason he adored this woman. He didn’t need to go into detail, relive things that made him want to scream. She just knew. His wife could read him like a well loved book.
‘Is it bad that I don’t care about him?’
Her fingers stilled, her hand freezing as she gazed into his eyes. ‘I think you have every right to feel the way you do, especially after how he treated you. He’s not a father to you Kitty, he acts like your owner.’
He couldn’t have said it better himself. ‘I’ll be sad…if he’s really ill and hiding away because of that—he is my father, after all. But—the way I feel right now—he’s already gone.’
Cupping the back of his head, Ladybug pulled him down pressing a slow heartfelt kiss to his lips. One which coiled his stomach and curled his toes.
‘You have your own family now,’ her lips brushing his as she spoke. ‘One that loves and adores you, and when we start expanding our family, you’ll show exactly what makes you the most perfect man in the world.’
The corner of his lips twitched. ‘I know you’re only saying that to make me feel better, but when your voice is all husky like that I believe every single word.’
‘Good!’
They stayed on the floor a little longer, tangled up and entirely unconcerned about the delivery man notifying them he was on his way. Because clearly, they were using their time wisely.
Chapter Text
Adrien
A doppelgänger can represent the parts of yourself that you don’t always want to look at—the sharp corners, the bitter edge, the version of you that doesn’t smile for the cameras.
For Adrien, that mirror had a sharp tongue and wore tailored black. His name was Félix.
Félix Fathom was rude, infuriatingly perceptive, and allergic to tact. He was also the one person who never expected Adrien to be nice. And that, apparently, made them lunch buddies.
They met once a month, like some sort of mutual court-mandated therapy session between cousins, though neither would admit it was good for them. A quiet booth, sharp insults, and some overpriced food. Tradition.
Their lunch had barely begun when the interrogation started.
‘So,’ Félix drawled, swirling his wine like a villain in a period drama. ‘How’s married life treating the golden couple of Paris? Is it as boring as I imagine, or have you two started alphabetising the spice rack and calling it foreplay?’
Adrien didn’t flinch. ‘You’re thinking of your parents’ divorce proceedings again.’
Félix smirked. ‘Touché.’ He took a sip. ‘So. Is it all fake smiles and matching pajamas?’
Adrien smiled despite himself. ‘It’s great.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘She doesn’t throw things when I leave socks in the living room.’
‘She’s a saint,’ he replied sarcastically.
Adrien didn’t bother looking up from his menu. ‘We haven’t destroyed the kitchen yet, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘I assume Ladybug’s the one with the fire extinguisher and the adult supervision.’
‘She likes a challenge.’
Félix snorted. ‘And here I thought the Lady of Paris had taste.’
Adrien grinned. ‘She married me, didn’t she?’
‘Pity weddings can’t be annulled retroactively by public vote.’
Adrien leaned back, casually smug. ‘The nation declared it a public holiday. There were fireworks.’
‘There were also commemorative mugs. I’m still recovering.’
Félix took a sip of his drink—something sparkling, obscure, and probably expensive—and eyed Adrien with faux casual interest. ‘So tell me, do you two actually talk about anything when you’re not saving the world or breaking tabloid hearts?’
Adrien raised a brow. ‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Childhood trauma. Masked intimacy. Joint therapy. The usual pillars of a healthy superhero marriage.’
Adrien laughed, the kind that caught him by surprise. ‘We talk. Sometimes too much. Sometimes not enough. But it’s real. That’s more than most people get.’
Félix tilted his head, considering him. ‘You sound… happy.’
Adrien met his gaze. ‘I am.’
A beat passed. Then Félix grimaced like he’d tasted something sour. ‘Disgusting.’
Adrien chuckled. ‘Thanks.’
There was a lull while they perused the menu, or pretended to. Then Félix dropped the next grenade.
‘I hear you’re working with Gabriel again.’
Adrien didn’t flinch. ‘Sort of.’
Félix side-eyed him. ‘You realise he was the destruction of your teenage years, right?’
‘Yeah. But someone needs to make sure my inheritance keeps building.’
‘You sound like you’re about to pop him off or something.’
Adrien laughed. ‘He’s not well at the moment, so someone with people skills needs to oversee the collaboration he’s doing.’
Félix sipped his drink, feigning disinterest. ‘Who’s the poor soul trapped in that PR nightmare?’
Adrien smiled. ‘I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of her. Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’
Félix choked. Loudly. Spectacularly. Sparkling water shot out of his nose.
‘You’re joking.’
‘You know her?’
Félix wiped his mouth with the linen napkin, glaring. ‘Something like that.’
‘She’s such a talented designer for her age. Seriously! And feisty, too! She went head to head with my father and didn’t even break a sweat.’
Félix stared at him. ‘Adrien.’
‘Yes?’
Félix shook his head. ‘Nevermind.’
They continued their rendezvous in silence, but Adrien could practically see the cogs turning in Félix’s head.
‘What?’ Adrien eventually said, placing his fork down and staring at his cousin.
Félix shook his head.
‘Come on, Fé! If you have something to say, just say it.’
The clang of Félix’s knife and fork was nothing compared to his sigh. His cousin grabbed a napkin and patted his mouth like some sort of villain preparing for his final speech. ‘Do the masks still cover everything about her identity? Like, if I asked you about…oh, I don’t know, her hair colour? Could you tell me what it was?’
Adrien frowned. ‘It still seems the same colour.’
‘And that colour is?’
Adrien shrugged, unsure why they were even having this conversation. ‘Black?’
‘Plain black or with a tint?’
‘I don’t know,’ Adrien said exasperatedly. ‘I can ask her if you’re interested in getting a dye job of your own though.’
Félix sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘No need to be sarcastic. I was just wondering because to us normal everyday, non-hero civilians, there’s a blue tinge, you know…like an anime look.’
Now that Félix had mentioned it, Adrien could totally see it. ‘Well, yeah. When you put it like that?’
‘And have you met anyone else with a similar sort of colouring?’
Every face Adrien had come into contact began to slowly revolve through his mind. There wasn’t anyone who stood out as having the raven tinted hair, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone else out there.
He pursed his lips. ‘Nope. I can’t think of anyone.’
Félix looked like he’d just found out the eggs from the Easter bunny were nothing more than rabbit droppings — disguised and slightly confused.
He opened his mouth to speak again before stopping. He opened again… and closed. And opened and closed. Finally, through a slight squeak, Félix delivered his next strange question.
‘And her personality?’
‘Seriously, Fé, quit it!’
Félix shrugged, casually reaching for his wine and sipping it like he hadn’t dropped a mini bomb. ‘Colour me curious. I just want to know. She’s got a very distinct vibe — hair, voice, the whole dramatic superhero presence — and I’m intrigued. Does that stick when the suits come off?’
Adrien blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then narrowed his eyes, because something was definitely up. Félix wasn’t nosy for sport, well, okay, he was, but this felt specific.
‘You want to know if I’ve seen her in real life, don’t you?’
Félix gave the faintest, most infuriating smug smile. ‘The thought may have crossed my mind.’
He leaned back like this was just a pleasant brunch chat and not borderline identity sabotage. ‘I mean, come on. After all this time working with her, and now living with her, you must have noticed something. A way she talks, maybe her day job slipping into conversation. And considering your ridiculous pact to keep things anonymous — very noble, very doomed — you do live in the same city. Statistically speaking, you’ve probably passed her in a bakery or something. She might even work with you.’
Adrien stared at him, trying very hard not to react. He was not going to blush. Or look guilty. Or think about the fact that Ladybug did once complain about a particularly bad brand shoot that sounded very familiar.
Instead, he folded his arms. ‘You know, for someone pretending not to care, you’re awfully invested in my love life.’
‘I’m not invested,’ Félix said coolly. ‘I’m entertained. Vast difference. Just one more question…who’s the big spoon?’
Conversation changed, Adrien now turning the direction to Félix’s love life and the unnamed girl he was seeing. All Adrien knew was that she was the daughter of an investor, and one who would going insane if they knew about the secret romance.
An hour later and Adrien was finally free, but not without Félix rubbing off on him and lingering in the back of his mind. Adrien had tried to brush it off, but his words stuck like glitter in his brain. Irritating. Persistent. Impossible to clean up.
He lingered in the foyer, attempting to focus on the umbrella stubbornly sitting at the bottom of his briefcase as the rain raced down the window in short bursts. But all he could think about was the way Ladybug spoke when she was tired. The way she fidgeted when she was frustrated. The way she had once, half-asleep on his chest, muttered something about ‘never letting her best friend pick a team name again’ and then immediately passed out.
It was the little things.
And then, like someone yanked open a drawer in his brain — click — he thought about her.
The girl from the supply closet.
They’d only met a few times. She was charming in that panicked, ‘please don’t tell anyone I just dropped an entire tray of sample perfumes’ kind of way. But she was also witty and sharp.
And now that he thought about it… her voice?
His brow furrowed.
No. Couldn’t be. Right?
But there were similarities. The cadence of her voice. That same snort-laugh that Ladybug tried to hide when one of his puns actually landed. The exact way she said ‘Seriously?’ like it was both a challenge and an inside joke.
He retrieved his umbrella, staring out at the rain.
‘…No way.’
But now that Félix had said it, planted that maddening little seed, Adrien couldn’t stop wondering. What if she’d been there all along, right under his nose? Same building. Same industry. Same room. Ladybug was so cautious, but even she couldn’t control fate.
And what if — just what if—the girl in the closet was the girl behind the mask?
His stomach flipped in the worst and best way.
Because if that were true?
He was so in trouble.
Marinette
The excitement Marinette had felt when the collaboration agreement first landed in her inbox had been pure, sparkling joy. The kind of joy that made you squeal into a pillow and happy-dance in socks on a hardwood floor. It had felt like the start of something, her moment.
Fast forward two weeks and a broken shoe later, and she was seriously rethinking her entire career.
What had once been the biggest milestone of her ‘normal’ life had swiftly unravelled into a chaotic mess. A chaos that had now culminated in her limping down a cobblestone Paris street with one heel literally snapped in half and the other hanging on out of sheer spite. And best of all, it had just started to rain.
‘This is what success looks like,’ she muttered, clutching her bag like a lifeline. ‘Broken shoes, frizzy hair, and anxiety induced heart palpitations.’
To make matters worse, she’d promised Tikki she wouldn’t call on her unless there was an actual akuma situation. No minor disasters, no fashion emergencies, no ‘I have to be on the other side of the city in eight minutes for a surprise meeting with a senior brand consultant’.
Tikki had already peeked out of her purse once with those big, tired eyes that said I love you but please let me nap. Marinette couldn’t blame her. Both Tikki and Plagg spent most of their day stuck in their little magical jewellery prison like mystical roommates who never got bathroom access. The least she could do was let them rest between emotional catastrophes.
Still, she was half a panic breath away from transforming just to get to the meeting on time.
‘I mean,’ she whispered, trying to justify it as she hobbled along, ‘technically I am in danger. From public humiliation.’
The wind blew her skirt into her face in response.
Fantastic.
Coming to a stop outside a restaurant, she pulled her phone out of her bag. There had to be a Metro close — either that or a bus stop.
The wind had started to pick up around her, blowing at her from many weird and wonderful directions. She should have listened to Chat when he told her to bring her umbrella today. But no. Instead, she trusted her phone’s weather app, because apparently it’s more accurate than the radio. That was the last time she trusted that!
Swiping her phone, she opened her text feed with extra force and pulled up her messages with her husband:
Ladybug: Don’t take too much joy in this but… you were right!
His reply was pretty much instant:
Kitty: I don’t know why you’re so surprised? I’m right most of the time!
She rolled her eyes, fingers preparing to message back when the three dots appeared. She waited.
Kitty: Before I gloat too much…what was I right about?
Marinette couldn't help but smile.
Ladybug: I should have brought an umbrella
Kitty: As much as I would love to say ‘I told you so’, I’m actually more worried about you getting wet. Are you outside?
Ladybug: I needed to catch the Metro from one meeting to the next. The line’s down though, so I need to walk
Kitty: M’Lady, order an Uber. You’ll get ill!
Ladybug: I’ll be okay!
Kitty: Just…find some sort of shelter or get on a bus…or anything! Transform! Tikki won’t mind!
As Marinette started to type, her phone was knocked from her hands, slipping from her fingers like it was trying to escape the drama and landed face-down in a puddle with a tragic little splat.
‘No! No, no, no!’ she yelped, scrambling to crouch down and save it, heart sinking faster than her phone.
Before her fingers could wrap around it, another hand reached in. Warm, smooth, annoyingly graceful, and closed over hers.
‘Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!’ came a voice, familiar and golden and absolutely not who she expected to hear mid-puddle-crisis.
She blinked, and there he was. She looked up—and of course. Of course.
Adrien Agreste.
He was crouched beside her, all model-esque concern and an umbrella perfectly angled to shield them both from the Paris rain like this was a scene in a perfume commercial and not her actual, chaotic life.
‘Your phone,’ he said, offering it up with a sheepish smile and maybe the gentlest look anyone had ever given her drenched electronics.
‘It’s fine,’ she said, trying not to sound winded or flustered, or like someone who had just gotten hand-grabbed in public by a literal face of luxury fashion. ‘I drop it, like… constantly. Honestly, the puddle’s probably the cleanest place it’s been today.’
Adrien laughed. Laughed, like he wasn’t walking serotonin. ‘Well, in that case, the puddle and I are relieved.’
She took the phone from him, resisting the urge to check if her home screen still worked, or if fate had decided to lock her out for the sake of extra humiliation.
He stood first, then offered her a hand without even thinking about it. She hesitated for a beat before taking it, letting him help her up under the shelter of his umbrella.
‘Were you heading to the office?’ he asked, casually, like they were two coworkers just running into each other in the middle of a romcom downpour and not standing within very close umbrella-sharing proximity.
She cleared her throat. ‘I have a meeting on the other side of the city and I'm just trying to find the closest bus stop. Then the rain happened. And… physics.’
His smile tugged wider, and she could practically hear Tikki in her purse whispering something infuriating like, He seems nice.
Which he was. Adrien was nice.
And friendly.
And stunning in the way that made your eye twitch if you looked at him too long.
But no, he was just a colleague. A very hydrated, unfairly symmetrical colleague who smelled faintly like expensive cologne and lavender detergent.
Totally platonic. Completely fine.
Though if she didn’t know Chat…
‘Come on,’ he said, holding the umbrella out a little more toward her. ‘I’ll walk you to the bus stop. Rain’s not slowing down anytime soon.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, forcing herself to relax. ‘You’re too nice. It’s almost suspicious.’
He laughed again as they started walking. ‘Just wait until you see my coffee-making skills. Then you’ll be worried.’
And despite the puddles and schedule nightmares and the wet tights slowly ruining her will to live, Marinette couldn’t help it. She laughed too.
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully.
‘You’re welcome.’
Ladybug
Never, ever underestimate the power of a pretty face.
Adrien Agreste hadn’t just rescued her from the rain with the smooth ease of a romcom lead — no, he’d gone full heroic-mode and managed to secure her a brand-new pair of pumps. Expensive ones. Designer ones. The kind that screamed I have my life together even if you were, say, sprinting into a presentation with rain-slicked hair and mild emotional damage.
It all started when he noticed her limp, glanced down, and winced like he was the one in pain. One look at her tragically cracked heel and he declared, very matter-of-factly, ‘We need to fix this’.
Before she could protest, she was being escorted, umbrella still overhead, to a nearby boutique. Not Gabriel, thank the stars, but one of its direct rivals. The kind with clean walls, scented air, and sales associates who used the word darling unironically.
And somehow, using nothing but his charm, that annoyingly perfect face, and what could generously be called ‘casual banter’, Adrien secured her a new pair of heels. Triple the price of her old ones. With a hefty discount. And a wink.
‘My father said part of my job is to keep you happy,’ he’d said with a shrug, holding out the shoes like a peace offering from Mount Olympus. ‘If that means retail therapy, so be it.’
She had questions. Many questions. But she also had fabulous shoes.
And, to her surprise, the day kept improving.
The board had loved her updated designs. Her colour adjustments had been called fresh yet timeless, which, coming from the woman who once called a lilac swatch ‘offensive’, was high praise. She got the green light to move forward, her inbox wasn’t on fire (yet), and for the first time all week, she felt like maybe she could do this.
The job. The project. The double life. All of it.
Also, her feet looked amazing.
So, yes, maybe Adrien Agreste was still technically her colleague.
But today? He was also her unexpected fairy ‘godmodel’ with an umbrella and excellent taste in stilettos.
She just wouldn’t tell Chat any of this.
Pulling the key from her purse, she stepped up to the apartment door and inserted the key. She was so ready to just cuddle up with her husband and fall asleep — after a shower of course.
The rain had left its mark on her. Its continuous downpour challenged her skirt, her hair and her tights. Even with Adrien’s umbrella, she still wasn’t completely protected from the incoming storm.
‘Kitty?’ she called, slipping her soggy shoes off.
She placed her coat on the hook and shoes in her shoe rack, before looking at the umbrella she’d left abandoned on the ground. She couldn’t just leave it there. It asked too many questions.
Opening the cupboard they hardly used, a broom fell out, swiftly followed by a useless pile of ‘bags for life’. Pushing them all back in, she placed the umbrella in the corner and expertly closed the door. The thud following gave her an awareness that the broom was once again trying to escape.
‘Bug?’
Her husband’s voice rang through the apartment, footsteps following.
‘I’m here!’ Marinette responded, placing her keys in the bowl and laptop case on the floor.
‘Marinette,’ a small voice hissed. Tikki.
The footsteps grew louder, moving through the kitchen and into the hallway.
‘Marinette!’ Tikki hissed again.
Glaring down at her bag, Marinette placed her hands on her hips. ‘What?’
‘Your face!’
Marinette frowned. ‘What about my face?’
Her hand came up to check there wasn’t any smuggled chocolate or watery mascara when her hands met…nothing!
A gasp was followed by a very awkward sweep of her coat over her face. The clumsy nature of her moves caused the coatrack to sway horribly on the spot. Before she could call on the transformation, everything toppled over — including her — into a pile of wet coats and now and even wetter Marinette.
‘What the—’
In a blast of pink and red, Marinette transformed herself under the pile as Chat’s panicked voice moved closer, quick footsteps pounding against the floor.
‘Are you okay?’
The coat rack was finally lifted from where it had wedged itself between the hallway walls like a poorly timed slapstick trap. Ladybug brushed a sleeve off her head, blinked up through the tangle of wool, and locked eyes with her partner.
‘It’s been a long day,’ she said flatly, still sitting on the floor like a child who’d emotionally face-planted.
His face softened immediately, those green eyes flickering with concern — and a flicker of amusement at her coat-covered tragedy. He extended a hand toward her like it was muscle memory, as smooth and practiced as a pas de deux. No hesitation. No fanfare. Just them.
‘How about this?’ he offered, voice warm. ‘We get you into a hot shower and then cuddle up on the window seat with M&Ms and watch the storm?’
She let out a pitiful whine as he helped her to her feet, leaning into him like she might melt on the spot. Her forehead pressed against his chest.
‘I ate them all last night,’ she confessed into his shirt, voice muffled by cotton and shame.
He chuckled, his arms sliding around her with the ease of someone who knew just how much she needed anchoring.
‘You may have,’ he said with a faux-serious nod. ‘Which is why I stopped and bought more. Based on the string of texts I got from you this afternoon, I figured chocolate would be a necessary survival tool.’
She tilted her head back, eyes wide. ‘I knew I married you for a reason.’
He laughed — really laughed — throwing his head back without a shred of modesty, completely unaware that in that moment, he had just made her entire week.
‘Anything for you, my love.’
She let out a long, grateful sigh and snuggled in closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘Thank you.’
‘Always,’ he said. ‘Now let’s get you in the shower, and then I’m putting you in one of those impossibly cozy post-shower sweaters. You know, the ones that show one shoulder.’
She laughed, already feeling lighter. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yep,’ he nodded with total conviction. ‘They’re basically the sexiest things on the planet.’
She squinted up at him. ‘I’ll remember that the next time I’m tempted to splurge on something from Ysé.’
They started toward the bathroom, fingers brushing.
‘Listen,’ he said, grinning down at her. ‘I’ll never say no to a little lace and drama, but that teasing shoulder look? It’s criminal. I see one collarbone and suddenly—’
He paused, but not before a loud, involuntary purring sound rumbled from his chest like a high-powered espresso machine.
Ladybug stopped mid-step, eyes wide. ‘Oh wow!’ she giggled, looking up at him. ‘Was that real?!’
He looked horrified.
She was already laughing. ‘Oh no, it’s happening again. You’re purring. Like—full-on domestic cat mode.’
He tried to cover it with a cough. Failed.
‘I—I don’t even know I’m doing it anymore,’ he purred into his hands.
‘That’s fine,’ she said, smugly sliding her arm around his waist again. ‘Just don’t stop. It’s weirdly hot.’
He purred louder.
Chat Noir
Embarrassment by name, embarrassment by nature, and wow, was he absolutely acing it today.
Sure, he was no stranger to purring. It happened. Sometimes when she scratched his hair just right. Sometimes when she nuzzled into him mid-movie. But this? Purring — loudly — because of a jumper slipping off her shoulder?
New low. Or possibly a new kink. Jury was still out.
He groaned internally.
What was it about those sweaters? The soft fabric, the oversized sleeves, the casual slouch that hinted at just enough skin to make his brain short-circuit? It was like someone had taken comfort and subtle seduction, sewn them together, and unleashed them upon the world specifically to destroy him.
Give him a choice between that and lacey lingerie?
He’d pick the damn jumper every time. No hesitation. Zero shame.
Okay—maybe a little shame, considering he’d just purred like a motorboat over a collarbone.
Total kryptonite.
And judging by Ladybug’s smug little smile, she knew it.
Which somehow made it worse… and so much better.
After sorting out the coat rack, he’d moved into the kitchen, cleaning the counters with enough force to get the tiny piece of mica out of the rock.
He couldn’t handle the day. His brain short circuiting from the sparks of information attempting to set fire to his brain. And all through his shoulder filled lust, he couldn’t help but wonder about her voice, her laugh. It was so similar to the girl at Gabriel. It couldn’t just be a coincidence, nothing that good ever happened for him as Adrien.
But it was all the same. The pitch. The tones. The unfiltered fun. Ladybug was the girl he met up with in the storage room. She was the one who was besotted with her husband and cried when people asked her to imagine he was cheating on her. She was the girl who shared food and stories with him — who listened to him.
Around and around, his mind twirled with the idea of knowing her. Yet, he couldn’t say a damn word. They’d agreed. If they figured it out they pretended they hadn’t. They’d just carry on like it was normal. But how could he carry on when she was there? She was right…there. Within his reach.
Blindly, he reached to the counter and tore open the yellow packet, stress eating to his heart's content. He tried to concentrate on the silence of the kitchen, but it was impossible when he could hear her in the next room — complete with audiobook. The British accent. The guy with the British accent! Dear Lord! He was jealous of himself.
He continued grabbing handfuls of the chocolates and throwing them into his mouth. For once in his life, Chat Noir was stumped. Speechless and unsure. Out of the hundreds of companies in Paris, she just had to work at his, so not only was this reveal going to piss off the Guardians, it was also going to violate a hell of a lot of HR policies too.
The bag in front of him was losing against his need for comfort, the quantity getting smaller and smaller as he tried to figure out what he’d done so wrong in a past life.
‘Hey Kitty, what you—’ the sultry voice of his wife stopped.
Chat Noir looked up, hand still, as his eyes skimmed over the wonderful jumper she was wearing. The red fabric was dropped at one side, a bare shoulder completely on display and showing off the collarbone he was so desperate to get his lips on. Her body was fire, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Her eyes were too — but not in a good way.
She was zoned in on the packet on the kitchen counter. His hand, still inside, caught in the middle of his treat heist.
‘Are those my M&M’s?’ she asked.
Slowly, he removed his hand, afraid of the way her eyes had grown wild. There was no way he was coming out of this one unscathed.
Ladybug moved forward, lifted her hand and slammed it down on top of the packet. Now they were both looking at it. The flattened, pathetic packet which held zero of the contents he’d promised her. In his emotional meltdown he’d eaten the entire bag.
‘I - um - I -’ He coughed. She glared. And if he wasn’t a superhero, he was quite certain he’d be running for his life, right about now. But he was a man! A brave hero! And even though his legs were trembling and knees were about to give in from the burning glare aimed his way, he was going to stand there and take it like a hero.
Chapter 15
Notes:
It's been a while since I coded text messages, so I hope this works! If it does I'll update earlier chapters at some point!
Chapter Text
Marinette
Marinette slammed her phone face down on the table with the kind of force that could register on the Richter scale.
‘Whoa!’ Alya blinked. ‘Who stole your panties?’
‘My M&Ms, actually. The entire bag, Alya!’ Marinette threw her arms up like she was reporting a crime scene. ‘I was in the shower for fifteen minutes — fifteen! — and he managed to inhale an entire share bag like it was air. Who even does that?’
Alya burst out laughing. ‘Er, your husband does? Catboy metabolism. Probably burned through them before you even rinsed out your conditioner.’
Marinette let out a dramatic groan and snatched her phone back like it had betrayed her too. Her thumbs flew across the screen, aggressively typing a string of M&M-related threats that only someone in a deeply committed marriage could send without legal consequences.
By the time she was done with her verbal rampage, she shoved the phone into her bag and forced herself to focus.
Crisis: handled. (Sort of.)
She and Alya had left the small cafe they’d met in, and were now standing dead center in the women’s department of the Gabriel flagship store, surrounded by rows of sparkles, satins, and enough high-end tailoring to bring a fashion student to tears. The displays were organised by colour, then style, then occasion. A place so pristine and precise, it practically whispered runway dreams start here.
‘So? What are we doing here? I thought you’d be wearing a MDC dress, not one of Gabriel’s gowns.’
Marinette sighed, moving to the wall covered in little black dresses. Her fingertips ran along the soft strands of satin, her thumb stopping to play with one of the glittering beads. ‘It was part of the deal. I wear Gabriel whenever the press are around to show commitment to the collaboration.’
‘Is Gabriel even going to be there?’ Alya asked, flipping through a row of cocktail dresses with mild suspicion.
Marinette shrugged, fingers grazing a sequin sleeve. ‘Honestly? No idea. I think he’s leaving all the schmoozing to Adrien’s pretty face and charming smile… apparently, that’s investor bait now.’
Alya snorted. ‘Corporate Paris: seduced by cheekbones.’
They strolled deeper into the sea of satin and silk, the hush of high-end fabric rustling around them. Marinette paused in front of a short emerald green dress. Flirty hemline, sharp neckline, the kind of piece that whispered attention, but made it classy.
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes lingered.
Chat Noir would love this.
She could already hear the dramatic gasp, the ridiculous cat pun, the way he’d definitely trip over a piece of furniture pretending not to be affected. He’d be away for most of Saturday, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a little sneak preview before then.
‘What’s Adrien like, anyway? Is he really as dreamy as the press makes him out to be?’ Alya asked, holding the green dress Marinette had been admiring and sizing it up against her with a smirk.
Marinette tried to play it cool, but her cheeks betrayed her with a little flush. ‘Honestly? I haven’t worked super closely with him yet. There was one meeting where I thought I might have to referee an emotional cage match between him and his father. Very Succession-meets-Vogue. But then yesterday, he saved me in the rain. New shoes, offered his umbrella, full prince-in-a-rainstorm moment.’
Alya raised a brow. ‘Sounds like someone’s a fan.’
‘He’s just… nice!’ Marinette insisted as she grabbed the dress and made a beeline for the changing rooms. ‘Genuinely. He’s got this energy that… ugh, he reminds me so much of Chat.’
Alya called after her through the cubicle door, ‘And looks-wise?’
‘Oh yeah, that too,’ Marinette replied breezily, pulling the dress over her head and smoothing it down. ‘Actually, he’s… he’s better than his photos. Way better. Tall, broad, really handsome. Like, ridiculously so. And the camera? Does not do that man justice.’
Alya made a strangled noise, but Marinette was too caught up in her monologue to notice.
‘You remember when we used to cut out his magazine ads and zoom in on his face looking for flaws? And we were convinced it was all airbrushing?’
Alya coughed loudly.
‘Well, it’s not. I’ve seen it up close. And let me tell you, Adrien Agreste’s face is nothing short of…’
She opened the dressing room door with a flourish.
‘…perfection.’
The word caught halfway out of her throat and died.
Standing just outside was Alya, wearing an expression somewhere between kill me now and I tried to warn you, and next to her was Adrien Agreste himself, grinning with smug satisfaction.
Marinette made a choking sound that wasn’t quite human.
Adrien, to his credit, looked delightfully entertained. ‘So… better than my photos, huh?’
She slammed the door shut so fast the hanger rattled on the hook.
From outside, Alya’s voice drifted through the silence. ‘Well. That’s one way to answer a question.’
Marinette stared at her reflection in the mirror, internally disintegrating.
‘Perfection?’ she whispered to herself, face flushed and mortified. ‘Seriously, Marinette? Why didn’t you just throw in ‘dreamy Adonis carved from starlight’ and be done with it?’
From the other side of the door came a soft knock.
‘Everything okay in there?’ Adrien’s voice was maddeningly gentle, and 100% teasing.
‘Yep!’ she chirped, voice two octaves too high. ‘Totally fine! Just… adjusting the zipper… and my life choices!’ She added in a hush.
Alya snorted.
Marinette took a deep breath, fluffed her hair, and opened the door with the composure of a woman pretending she hadn’t just delivered an accidental love monologue about someone who wasn’t her husband.
Adrien leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, doing nothing to help her calm down.
She stepped out, chin high. ‘So. Dress. Thoughts?’
He looked her up and down, taking his time, just enough to make her nerves fray. Then, with absolute, unfair sincerity, he said, ‘You look stunning.’
‘Oh.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Cool. Good. Yes. It’s… green.’
Alya blinked. ‘Wow. A full sentence. We’re doing so well today.’
Marinette cleared her throat. ‘I mean… I wear green all the time, so this is… very on brand.’
Adrien tilted his head. ‘It matches the colour of my eyes.’
She gaped. ‘I—I don’t—That’s—‘
Alya clapped her hands. ‘Okay! Let’s maybe not bring up matching colours.’
Adrien laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘Fair. I’ll behave.’
Marinette narrowed her eyes. ‘Will you?’
‘No,’ he said, grinning. ‘But I’ll try.’
She rolled her eyes and turned back toward the mirror, pretending to inspect the dress. ‘You know, not everyone gets flustered by a compliment. Some people are very composed. Professional.’
Adrien smirked. ‘Right. And some people definitely don’t monologue about my face being ‘nothing short of perfection’.’
Marinette groaned and pointed toward the exit. ‘Out. Leave the boutique. Never return.’
Alya cackled. ‘Oh no, sunshine boy’s staying. I want a front row seat for this trainwreck.’
‘Perfect,’ Marinette muttered. ‘Love that for me.’
‘Mr Agreste?’ A young, extremely attractive sales assistant came running around the corner, Marinette wondering how she wasn’t twisting her ankle on the heels she was wearing.
Adrien turned to look at her, his face seemingly confused by the interruption. ‘Mr Agreste, you forgot your suit.’
The assistant held out a sleek black garment bag that Adrien took with a smile and casually slung over his shoulder.
‘Thanks,’ he said, turning away from the woman and back to Marinette.
Of course. He would have had to come and get his outfit too. Taking his focus off Marinette, he turned to Alya.
Before Marinette could retreat into the nearest display of sequins, Alya stepped forward and extended a hand. ‘Alya Césaire. Best friend, emergency damage control, and witness to everything that just happened.’
Adrien shook her hand, amused. ‘Adrien Agreste. Victim of flattering slander.’
Marinette made a sound in her throat that could’ve been a laugh… or a whimper. She was actively debating climbing into a clothes rack and disappearing forever.
‘So…’ Alya nodded to the bag slung over his shoulder. ‘What’s in there? Designer secrets? A second identity? Haute couture bat costume?’
Adrien chuckled. ‘Just a tuxedo. For the gala.’
Then, with a wink so smooth it should have come with a warning label, he added, ‘Gotta suit up to go with my license to kill…or with this bad boy, maybe thrill.’
Marinette blinked. Something about the way he said it — it tickled the back of her brain. Familiar, almost. But before she could grasp it, Alya let out a low whistle.
‘Bond energy. I respect it.’
Marinette, still vaguely frozen, nodded too fast. ‘Yep. Very… thrilling. Super licensed. All the adjectives.’
Adrien turned to her with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. ‘Well, I am better in person than in the photos. So I’ve heard.’
She groaned. ‘Are you ever going to let that go?’
‘Never,’ he said, already walking backward toward the exit. ‘See you at work tomorrow?’
Marinette nodded, cheeks pink.
As he disappeared through the store doors, Alya turned to her slowly. Eyes sparkling with chaos. The doors shut behind Adrien and the little bell above them jingled far too cheerily for Marinette’s emotional state, she stood rooted to the floor like a woman who’d just been hit by a designer truck.
Alya gave her a solid five seconds of respectful silence before letting out a very unhelpful, ‘Whewww! Girl. I am living.’
Marinette peeled her hands from her face and groaned. ‘Please tell me that didn’t actually happen.’
‘Oh, it happened. You monologued. About his face. While he was two meters away. Then he winked and said the words ‘license to thrill’ like he was on the cover of GQ: Secret Agent Edition — and you still haven’t died from shame. Honestly, I’m impressed.’
Marinette turned toward the mirror, staring at herself like she might find dignity somewhere in her reflection. Spoiler: she did not.
‘That line though,’ she murmured, brushing imaginary lint off the dress. ‘License to thrill…’
Alya raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me you liked it.’
‘No — well, yes. I mean — it was smooth, obviously, but…’ Marinette squinted at her reflection, distracted. ‘There was something about the way he said it. I don’t know. It felt… familiar?’
Alya tilted her head. ‘You think you’ve heard it before?’
She was almost certain she had, but not from Adrien Agreste.
Marinette hesitated, lips parted, like the answer was just out of reach, but then she shook her head. ‘It’s probably nothing. Just his way of being charming. Or annoying. Or both.’
Alya smirked. ‘Something like your husband would say?’
Marinette glanced out the door. Adrien nowhere in sight. Could it be that the familiarities just make her think of her husband? That Chat and Adrien were more alike than she’d like to think. Yikes, just the thought was enough to make her shiver.
‘They’re just so similar, Al, it’s actually eerie,’ Marinette hissed, grabbing her things like she was making a tactical retreat. ‘He’s just… nice. And decent. And, yes, alarmingly attractive, but that’s not a crime. And I shouldn’t be comparing him to Chat Noir. I know he’s not my husband… he just can’t be.’
‘Maybe not, but just imagine...’ Her eyes were sparkling like she’d just gotten the biggest scoop of the century. But she couldn’t be right with this one. There was just no way!
Marinette rolled her eyes, already heading back into the changing room. ‘Whatever. We’ve got a gala to dress for. And I have a very handsome cat to impress.’
‘Interesting how that sentence includes two separate men.’
Marinette exited the changing room, ears edged with pink.
‘Shut up.’
Alya just grinned and linked her arm through Marinette’s as they headed toward the checkout. ‘Oh, I’m shutting up. Just as soon as I recover from secondhand embarrassment… sometime next year.’
Chat Noir
The earlier run-in with Marinette and her friend Alya had sparked an idea — one Adrien was fairly confident would get him back into his Lady’s good graces.
Because judging by her texts, he was dangerously close to sleeping on the metaphorical (and possibly literal) couch. Who knew a handful of words could carry so much menace?
Note to self: never, ever eat your wife’s M&Ms. Ever.
In his defense, it hadn’t been intentional. One moment he was standing there, thinking about the familiarity of the way she laughed, the sound of her voice, and the next thing he knew, the bag was empty and he was staring into the abyss of his snack-related betrayal.
He hadn’t even enjoyed the last few. Okay, he had. But still.
Stress eating was a completely valid coping mechanism. Even for superheroes. Sure, he had a well-toned stomach, a nutritionist-approved eating plan, and the metabolism of a golden retriever on espresso, but he was still human. And sweet, chocolate-coated treats? Kryptonite.
But that was the past.
Now, he had a mission: operation Wow My Wife So She Forgets I Betrayed Her With Chocolate.
And thanks to some offhand comments during the boutique disaster, he had a plan. One that involved a tuxedo, a touch of charm, and maybe — just maybe — a replacement share bag of M&Ms… or three.
He just hoped she hadn’t hidden the Nerf guns again.
‘What’s the plan Batman?’ Plagg floated around him, hovering just beside his head as he made his way into the bedroom, hanging the suit bag on the wardrobe before starting to strip out of his clothes.
‘It’s not Batman tonight, Plagg. The name’s Bond… James Bond!’
Ladybug
Coming home had never felt so good. This week had been one chaotic mess after another, and honestly, Marinette was amazed she’d made it through with only minimal public embarrassment. She stepped into the apartment with a dramatic sigh and dropped her transformation before powering down completely — emotionally, mentally, physically. Done.
Moving on autopilot, she slung her bag onto the nearest hook, kicked off her shoes with a bit more flair than necessary, and trudged toward the bedroom.
Which is probably why she missed a few... key details.
Like the fact that all the lights were off.
And the very obvious trail of candles leading down the hallway… straight toward their bedroom.
Marinette followed them, her brows inching higher with every step.
‘Okay… I’m either about to be romantically propositioned, or murdered,’ she muttered, turning the corner into the bedroom —
— and promptly stopped dead in her tracks.
There he was.
Chat Noir.
Wearing a tuxedo. A real one — black bow tie, shiny shoes, the whole ‘license to swoon’ package. He was standing beside the bed with one arm resting casually on a wine bottle chilling in an ice bucket that looked suspiciously like it had been borrowed from the neighbour’s recycling bin.
He raised an eyebrow. Slowly. Dramatically.
‘M’Lady,’ he said in a voice two octaves lower than usual, ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
She blinked. ‘Are you — are you doing Bond right now?’
He turned to her fully, eyes glinting with the kind of exaggerated confidence only he could pull off. ‘The name’s Noir. Chat… Noir.’
‘What’s with the accent? Did you learn it from a BBC drama and a thesaurus?’
Chat gasped, feigning offence. ‘I’ll have you know this accent is very well-researched. I watched five whole episodes of Downtown Abbey.’
‘Impressive,’ she deadpanned, kicking a stray rose petal. ‘Did they mention how utterly punchable it sounds when you use it to flirt?’
He smirked, undeterred. ‘And yet, here you are… still walking toward me.’
‘Only because you’ve clearly lost your mind, and someone has to save you from yourself.’
She crawled onto the bed, Chat Noir flopping down beside her with a groan.
‘Seriously,’ she said, burying her face in his shoulder, ‘where did you even get this many roses?’
She picked a clump up and scattered them over his head.
‘I have my ways,’ he murmured smugly, grabbing a couple of petals and throwing them back at her. ‘And a gentleman never reveals his secrets.’
‘Then a wife never admits she likes it.’ She stretched up and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.
‘Too late,’ he whispered, cupping her cheek and holding her still. ‘Already did.’ Slowly, he pressed his lips to hers, her whole body melting into the feeling of him against her.
Her head spun as he pulled away, the bed dipping as he moved around. He turned back, extending a glass of something bubbly like a sacred offering.
‘So, what is all this about? Apart from a lame attempt at an apology for eating my M&Ms.’
‘Well… that… plus after a hard week, you deserve your full audiobook spy fantasy. The brooding agent. The tux. The accent. The —’ he gestured to himself with a little smirk. ‘— questionably handsome man with a mysterious past.’
‘Questionably?’ She raised an eyebrow at him.
‘I’m being modest,’ he whispered dramatically, kneeling on the bed beside her like she was royalty. ‘But if that's what you want tonight, M’Lady… I am more than willing to deliver.’
She shook her head, biting back a grin. ‘You’re impossible.’
He leaned in closer, voice low, accent intact. ‘I’m also available for narration. Chapter one: the alluring yet exhausted heroine returns home, only to discover her dangerously attractive husband waiting with M&Ms… and danger.’
Ladybug burst out laughing again and gently placed her own glass down before moving back and taking his.
‘Alright, Bond. Just don’t burn the apartment down this time.’
‘No promises,’ he whispered, grabbing hold of her waist and pulling her down on top of him.
Chat Noir
The rain rolled in like a whisper, soft and steady against the tall windows of their little Paris apartment. Streetlights glowed gold through the mist, casting the city in a hazy shimmer, as if Paris herself had decided to exhale and slow down just for them.
Chat Noir rested his chin lightly on Ladybug’s shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around her middle like he was afraid she might drift away with the rain if he let go. She was wrapped in his shirt, her back warm against his chest.
His shirt.
Chat Noir could hardly believe it. The girl he’d risked everything for, fought beside, stumbled through plans with, now sat curled in his arms — his ring on her finger. An impenetrable bond. And a possible face to fit a mask.
He’d never felt more content in all his life.
Her fingers dipped into the bowl resting in her lap, fishing out an M&M, turning it over as if it held secrets. Then she looked up, her voice quiet. ‘Open.’
He did. Of course he did. She fed him the chocolate, fingers brushing his lips, and his heart almost combust in his chest.
‘You spoil me, Bug,’ he said, smirking through the sweetness.
She rolled her eyes, but he caught the curve of a smile tugging at her lips. ‘One chocolate doesn’t make me a saint.’
’No,’ he murmured, brushing his nose along the slope of her bare neck, ‘but it makes you a fantasy.’
She relaxed into him with a little laugh, burying her face into the collar of his shirt. His shirt. That single detail made his thoughts spiral again.
Should he tell her he thinks he’s figured her out? That he knows who she is and that the whole point of the accent tonight was for her to also put two and two together?
Or should he just be content with this? That this version of her, that she trusted enough to show him when the city was asleep and no one else was looking, was enough.
She tilted her head, voice barely more than a whisper. ‘How do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Make me feel like this. Like the world’s quiet. Like I could actually have everything I ever wanted.’
He tightened his arms around her just a little, feeling her heartbeat through his palm.
‘Because you can, Bug.’
She froze. He felt it. The subtle tension that passed through her shoulders. And he knew why — he knew exactly why.
They didn’t know each other. Not really.
But somehow… they did.
Her voice broke the silence again. ‘Do you ever think about what comes next? For us?’
The question landed in his chest like a match in a dark room.
He didn’t even hesitate.
‘Every night.’
She turned, eyes meeting his, and he didn’t look away. He knew the truth wasn’t an option, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t plant a seed.
‘I think about finding you one day,’ he said quietly. ‘Really finding you, when this is all over and we retire from saving the world. No suits. No secrets. Just… waking up and seeing your face in the morning light and knowing I get to keep it.’
She didn’t speak right away, just studied him like she didn’t know what to do with the weight of that answer.
‘Do you want kids?’
The question startled a laugh out of him — soft and honest.
‘With you? Yeah. Loud, messy, probably too many. Blond chaos and blue-eyed brilliance.’
‘That sounds… terrifying.’
‘It does,’ he agreed, grinning. ‘But also kind of perfect.’
She looked away then, toward the window. ‘Would you still want that if you knew who I was?’
His heart cracked a little at the quiet fear in her voice.
‘I already want it,’ he said. ‘Who you are behind the mask doesn’t scare me. If anything…’ His throat felt tight. ‘I think I’m more in love with her than anything else. She’s you and that’s all that matters.’
And that was the truth. No secret identity could change it.
She twisted to face him more fully, tucking herself even tighter into his hold, his shirt falling slightly off one shoulder. ‘I used to think I’d never get to have any of it. Not really. Not with everything going on.’
His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye. ‘You do now,’ he said gently. ‘You have me. You’ll have whatever future you want.’
She leaned in slowly and kissed him - soft, unhurried and tasting of chocolate.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
Inside, he held the girl he loved, still not knowing her name — but knowing her better than anyone else in the world.
And for now… that was enough.
Chapter Text
Adrien
Thinking rationally had never been one of Adrien’s strongest attributes.
Actually, thinking at all had never been one of Adrien’s strongest attributes—at least not when feelings were involved. Which was probably why Plagg was currently hovering mid-air, staring at him like he’d just proposed marrying a cheese wheel.
To be fair, given the situation, insanity wasn’t entirely off the table.
‘Are you okay?’ Plagg finally asked, blinking slowly. ‘Like… brain-functioning, oxygen-reaching-the-top-floor okay?’
Adrien, mid-pacing and very much in the middle of a dramatic monologue (to no one but himself), froze. ‘Define okay.’
Plagg crossed his little arms. ‘Not planning anything that will lead to emotional implosion or public embarrassment. That kind of okay.’
Adrien blinked. ‘…Define public.’
Plagg groaned.
Adrien had officially reached a new level of ridiculous.
He was loitering — lurking, really — outside a supply closet like a teenage spy in a low-budget sitcom. Leaning against the wall with all the grace of someone trying way too hard to look casual. He checked his phone for the third time in a minute and glanced down the hallway.
Nothing.
The cupboard door remained shut, quiet, nondescript… yet practically humming with mystery. Because inside that ordinary little space was where he’d spent the last few weeks bumping into her — the girl with the quick wit, sharp tongue and laugh that made his knees feel like they were made of mashed potatoes.
He knew it now. He was sure of it.
The girl he’d been talking to — joking with, bonding with, occasionally sharing emergency snacks with — was Ladybug.
He just hadn’t seen her yet. Not fully. Not unmasked.
Just one look. That was all he needed to know.
‘Honestly,’ he muttered to himself, shifting from one foot to the other, ‘this is the most unhinged thing I’ve ever done. And I once tried to fight an akuma with a baguette.’
Behind him, footsteps echoed.
He froze.
The cupboard door creaked open.
Adrien held his breath, every nerve in his body going still. This was it. The moment. The big reveal. All he needed was one clear look—one glance at the girl who had somehow wrapped herself around his heart without ever showing her face.
He tilted forward slightly, eyes locked, heart hammering.
Then —
‘Adrien,’ came Plagg’s voice, far too loud and right beside his ear, ‘you cannot wear that cologne if you’re trying to go incognito. You smell like a walking advert for heartbreak.’
Adrien jolted like he’d been electrocuted, arms flailing as he swatted at the kwami. ‘Plagg!’
The cupboard door clicked shut again.
‘No no no no—no!’ Adrien hissed, spinning back toward it just in time to catch a shadow slipping out of sight down the hallway. Whoever had entered — or exited — was already gone.
‘Plagg,’ he growled, rubbing a hand down his face. ‘You ruined it.’
‘I saved you,’ Plagg countered, unimpressed. ‘From doing something stupid. Like ambushing someone outside a storage closet and shouting, ‘A-ha! You’re Ladybug!’ in the middle of a hallway.’
‘I wouldn’t have—’
‘You absolutely would have.’
Adrien groaned, sliding dramatically down the wall like a man in the final act of a romcom, minus the background music.
‘I was this close,’ he mumbled, pinching his fingers together.
Plagg floated beside him, arms crossed, unimpressed. ‘Yeah? And what then? If you had seen her, what were you going to do? Declare your undying love with a janitor cart rolling by?’
Adrien sighed, then muttered under his breath, ‘Maybe.’
Plagg rolled his eyes. ‘You’re a danger to yourself and probably to Paris.’
Standing up, Adrien looked once more at the closed door, wondering what might have been. He was close. So close. Just a breath away from the answer that had been tugging at his heart for days.
But Plagg was right.
As much as it pained him to admit it, he hadn’t really thought it through. What would he have done if he’d seen her? Gasped dramatically? Declared his undying love in the middle of a hallway with a fluorescent light flickering overhead?
No. Worse. He might have smiled. That goofy, too-wide, heart-eyed grin he reserved exclusively for her. And that would’ve given everything away.
This wasn’t just about curiosity — or even his feelings. Their masks didn’t just protect them; they protected everyone. Their friends. Their families. All of Paris.
So he sighed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and gave the door one last wistful look.
‘Next time,’ he murmured to himself.
Plagg floated beside him, nibbling the corner of a cheese wrapper. ‘Or, you know, never. That’s also a safe option.’
Adrien smirked, the weight in his chest lightening just a little. ‘Not helpful, Plagg.’
‘Helpful is keeping you from blowing your love life and our cover in one swoop.’
Adrien rolled his eyes and turned down the corridor, walking away from the cupboard — and maybe, just maybe — toward a smarter choice.
And a serious talk with his impulse control.
Marinette
As always, she was late.
Not fashionably late. Not chic-Parisian, air-kiss kind of late. No. She was full-blown, sprinting-in-heels, clutching-her-phone-between-her-teeth kind of late. The kind of late that made you question every life choice, starting with why you ever agreed to design a capsule collection in the first place and ending with why heels were still a thing in 2025.
But at least she looked incredible.
The emerald silk dress hugged her like it had been poured onto her body, its thin straps skimming her shoulder with delicate ease, while the high slit up one leg made her feel like a Bond girl who’d traded gadgets for seam rippers. Sophisticated, sexy, and — according to Chat Noir — lethal. He had all but choked on his words when she’d modelled it for him during a late-night fitting. His actual review: ‘Are you trying to kill me? Because it’s working.’
Hair — glossy, pinned up in soft waves. Makeup — flawless, thanks to a panicked last-minute appointment and a very enthusiastic aesthetician named Brigitte. She looked like the woman she always pretended to be in interviews: confident, cool, collected.
Shame the inner chaos was doing cartwheels in stilettos.
Clutching her invite like a weapon and weaving through the crowd outside the venue, Marinette could already hear the low hum of champagne chatter and elegant orchestral music drifting from inside. The air buzzed with money, perfume, and expectation.
She paused at the base of the grand staircase, one hand on the rail, the other smoothing a non-existent wrinkle in her emerald silk dress. For a heartbeat, she let herself breathe.
Tonight was her night.
And she was going to enjoy every second of it.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Designer. Superhero. Woman in a knockout dress and heels that could kill a man — literally and emotionally. No one inside that ballroom had a clue what was about to hit them.
She smiled to herself, straightened her spine, and took the first step up.
Let the show begin.
Marinette navigated her way through the glittering crowd, smiling politely and exchanging small talk, her designer instincts cataloguing every outfit in the room. She was just admiring someone’s bold-but-misguided tulle choice when she spotted a familiar flash of red hair.
‘Sabrina!’ Marinette beamed, weaving through a cluster of Champagne flutes and sequins.
‘Marinette, you look stunning,’ Sabrina said, pulling her into a quick and careful hug. ‘That dress is incredible.’
Giggling, Marinette moved in a slow twirl around, showing the low back and thigh high slit.
‘I still can’t believe you’re doing this collaboration,’ Sabrina said, her eyes wide with admiration. ‘Gabriel’s never partnered this closely with an outside label.’
They both glanced around the room, taking in the thousands of pounds worth of designs and creations.
‘Well, the key is to bring them heels and croissants and very little ego,’ Marinette said with a wink. ‘That, and survive a meeting with Gabriel without spontaneously combusting.’
‘I believe that’s now a required module in the fashion syllabus,’ Sabrina deadpanned.
Before Marinette could respond, a voice — high, sweet and just slightly condescending - cut through the air.
‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng!’ Chloé Bourgeois appeared in a storm of gold lamé and designer indignation. ‘Darling, you look…shockingly decent. I almost didn’t recognise you.’
‘Chloé,’ Marinette said with a cordial smile that cost her a year of emotional energy. ‘You’re glowing. Is that bronzer or just expensive self-confidence?’
Chloé grinned like she hadn’t heard the jab. ‘Both, obviously. But I have been thinking… I might need a new custom gown. Something dramatic. Regal. With a detachable train and maybe… a built-in spotlight?’
‘I’ll keep my design team on stand-by,’ Marinette said sweetly.
Before Chloé could launch into a monologue about lighting angles, a tall figure slid between them, casually stepping in like he’d rehearsed it.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Adrien said smoothly, offering Marinette a polite smile. ‘Mind if I borrow you for a moment? A couple of investors are asking to meet the genius behind the collaboration.’
Marinette blinked, surprised, but nodded. ‘Of course.’
As they walked a few steps away, her curiosity got the better of her. ‘So… which investors?’
Adrien leaned down slightly, his voice low and conspiratorial. ‘None in particular. You just looked like you were seconds away from being dragged into a ten-minute monologue on gold thread and entitlement.’
Marinette snorted. ‘So this was a rescue mission?’
‘Call it tactical extraction,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’m trained in these kinds of operations.’
‘Well, Agent Agreste,’ she said, playfully bumping his arm, ‘next time bring snacks.’
He smirked. ‘Noted. Emergency macaron stash, got it.’
They exchanged a look — friendly, warm, charged with something she couldn’t quite name.
They strolled together through the glittering crowd, weaving past clinking glasses and bursts of designer perfume.
‘You really did save me,’ Marinette said, her lips curving into a smile. ‘Another five minutes and Chloé would’ve had me agreeing to a dress that requires hydraulics.’
Adrien chuckled. ‘She does have a… persuasive charm.’
‘If by charm you mean thinly veiled threats and weaponised lip gloss, then sure,’ Marinette said, arching a brow.
‘I think she keeps her lawyers on speed dial,’ he said, faux-whispering. ‘And names her dresses after Greek goddesses.’
Marinette feigned scandal. ‘Hey, I like Greek goddesses. Just… maybe not the ones who throw tantrums if the hemline isn't draped with divine precision.’
They both laughed, their pace slowing as the energy of the gala buzzed around them.
Adrien tilted his head, eyes glinting. ‘So. Are you enjoying the evening? You are the woman of the hour.’
‘I mean, I haven’t tripped, spilled wine, or told anyone their face is perfect yet, so yeah — we’re tracking above average,’ she said.
‘Impressive. I’ve already eaten two hors d'oeuvres I’m mildly allergic to and mispronounced champignons in front of a Michelin-starred chef.’
‘You’re a menace,’ she teased.
He gave a mock bow. ‘A charming menace with a perfect face.’
Just then, a small group of well-dressed men and women approached, one of them clearly spotting Adrien.
‘Excuse me,’ Adrien said, straightening up. ‘Duty calls.’
Marinette nodded. ‘Don’t let them talk you into crypto. Or microgreens.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ He smiled and turned toward the group, slipping into perfect English as he greeted them.
Perfect Queen’s English, like he’d binge watched Downton Abbey. Like…
And that’s when it happened.
Marinette’s entire body went still.
The laugh. The warmth. That effortless, velvet-smooth voice sliding through vowels like melted chocolate over strawberries. Her brain didn’t even process the words, just the sound. That voice.
That voice.
It wasn’t just Adrien Agreste, heir to a fashion empire. It wasn’t even the guy who just saved her from death-by-Chloé.
It was him. The man from the storage closet. The one who’d spoken to her in the dark like they were the only two people in the world. The one who’d made her laugh until her sides hurt.
The voice of someone who’d serenaded her mere nights ago in a tuxedo, with moonlight catching the gold of his hair and a smile in his voice. The one who wore a costume and fought crime with her.
Adrien.
Adrien was him.
Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.
She blinked, heart racing, stomach flipping. Her hands trembled as ice spread slowly through her veins.
‘Excuse me,’ she mumbled, backing away before anyone could see the panic in her eyes.
She fled toward the drinks table, wrapping her fingers around the first glass of champagne she could find, and took a long, bracing sip. Her heart pounded in her ears.
This couldn’t be happening.
Could it?
Six champagnes down, and she still couldn’t stop staring at him.
Adrien moved through the crowd with effortless poise, flashing that signature smile that seemed to make people lean in just to bask in it. He laughed at the right moments, nodded thoughtfully at others. It was like watching Chat Noir in a tux — debonair, magnetic, the golden boy of both night patrols and fashion galas.
So at ease. So charming. So undeniably… him.
The sixth glass became a seventh, as if by osmosis.
She took a sip. Another. Then, with a little too much flair, she placed her glass onto the tray of a passing waiter — only to hit the edge too hard, sending the tray into a teetering wobble.
‘Whoa—sorry!’ Marinette lunged, steadying the tray with hands that betrayed her cool exterior by shaking far too much. Her eyes, however, remained locked on Adrien. Her husband, she reminded herself for the thousandth time. Her mystery storage-closet sharer. Oh, she was confused!
Adrien laughed at something an investor said, the sound rippling through the air like a caress. Her stomach somersaulted.
‘I think you’ve had enough,’ said a voice to her right.
British. Polished. The kind of voice that probably belonged to a man who drove a black Jaguar and negotiated million-euro deals over single-malt scotch.
Marinette turned her head slowly, bracing herself. Yep. Sleek hair. Sharp jaw. Designer suit probably worth more than her entire wardrobe.
Cool, controlled concern flickered in his gaze — like he’d seen this scene play out before and knew it ended with someone singing Lady Marmalade into a hairbrush by dessert.
She blinked, cleared her throat, and said, ‘I’m fine.’
‘Of course you are,’ he said with a polite smile. ‘Just be careful. It’d be a shame to ruin those heels.’
She glanced down, as if remembering her feet existed. Right. Heels. Gorgeous, emerald-green, too-expensive, absolutely blister-inducing heels.
She offered him a tight-lipped smile and turned away, only to find her eyes drifting right back to Adrien.
And just like that, she was drowning again.
She didn’t respond right away. Mostly because she was afraid if she opened her mouth, something deeply unflattering would fall out — like a confession or another hiccup.
The man beside her sighed. ‘You know,’ he said, sipping from a glass of something far too expensive for the open bar, ‘for someone who’s supposedly a genius, you’re remarkably dense.’
Marinette blinked. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know how either of you manage to get dressed in the morning, let alone save Paris on a weekly basis.’
Her head shot to the side, her eyes set on someone who was remarkably like Adrien in looks, yet emitted a coldness all around him.
‘Who are you?’
He gave her a lazy smile, lifting his glass in salute. No name mentioned. ‘Took you long enough. Thought the seven champagnes might’ve short-circuited your brain entirely.’
She exhaled through her nose. ‘Did you know it’s not polite to sneak up on people? And make crazy allegations?’
‘Do you ever not sabotage yourself?’ he shot back, raising a perfectly groomed brow. ‘Because if you’re trying to punish Adrien for... what, being charming and wearing a tuxedo? You’re doing a fabulous job. Bravo.’
Marinette looked away again — toward Adrien, who was still working the room, making everyone around him look dimmer by comparison. Her throat tightened.
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘It is, actually,’ the stranger said, stepping closer, lowering his voice. ‘You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?’
Marinette’s heart thundered in her chest. ‘Seriously, who are you?’
He offered a hand out, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Félix Fathom. Your cousin-in-law.’
Her heart thundered wildly as she took in this all knowing person beside her. Her jaw tensed, her back teeth clenching with enough pressure to crack.
‘Mm,’ Félix hummed thoughtfully. ‘Well, you’re here now. You’ve got legs, heels, and a dress that looks illegal in seventeen countries. So go make a dramatic entrance, why don’t you?’
She stared at him.
He sipped his drink again. ‘What? You want me to push you?’
Marinette let out a breathy laugh and rolled her eyes, but her pulse had kicked up a notch.
‘We’re not meant to know… the Guardians…’
Félix rolled his eyes. ‘The Guardians who left it until now to give you an ultimatum. Screw the Guardians. You two are different. You’re not like past holders.’
Her eyes travelled down his tuxedo, lingering on the brooch placed delicately on his lapel.
Marinette’s focus turned to Félix. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Love never is.’ He turned to look at where Adrien was talking with a beautiful woman in red and gold, her hair perfectly styled around her face and a hand placed far too familiar on his arm.
Her feet were already moving before she realised it — cutting through the crowd, champagne haze replaced by something else entirely.
Determination. Panic. Love.
Possibly all three.
And behind her, she heard Félix’s muttered words. ‘Finally.’
She spotted him near the edge of the dance floor, laughing with a small cluster of high-powered suits. He looked relaxed, golden under the warm lights, champagne in hand, the tuxedo tailored within an inch of its life.
And then she saw her.
The woman with sharp cheekbones and a gown that screamed old money, still casually resting a hand on Adrien’s arm. The touch wasn’t possessive exactly… but it was enough to make her worry. Intimate in that effortless, quiet way.
Something in Marinette snapped.
Maybe it was the seven champagnes. Maybe it was Félix’s voice echoing in her head. Maybe it was the god-tier jawline that had been haunting her dreams in a tuxedo.
But she marched right up to Adrien, eyes laser-focused, and without giving herself the chance to think — because thinking always got her into trouble — she rose up on tiptoe, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and kissed him.
Right there, in front of the suits. In front of the woman with the perfect posture. In front of Paris, probably.
‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ she murmured against his lips, a little breathless, a little smug.
Adrien looked stunned. Delightfully, gloriously stunned.
The other woman said something sharp in a clipped accent, but Marinette didn’t hear it. Her whole body buzzed like she’d just stuck a fork in an outlet — because this close, there was no mistaking it.
The voice. The laugh. The way he curled slightly to meet her height.
This was him. Her partner. Her husband. Her Chat Noir.
She stepped back, heat blooming across her cheeks, heart thundering loud enough to drown out the music.
He was looking at her, confused and, slightly, breathless.
And she smiled, soft and secretive. His wide eyes, almost funny.
She wasn’t going to tell him. She couldn’t… not yet at least.
Chat Noir
If Adrien thought he moved fast when transformed, it was nothing compared to how quickly he’d sprinted home after kissing a woman who wasn’t his wife.
He was the worst. A walking disaster. A human croissant of guilt and confusion.
The second he stepped into the apartment, he powered down his transformation and started pacing like a man on trial. Back and forth. Back and—
He caught his reflection in the mirror and froze.
His cheeks were flushed.
His lips? Smudged with lipstick.
And his eyes — mon dieu — wide and wild, pupils practically eclipsing his irises.
He looked like a man possessed. Which… wasn’t not accurate.
Sure, Marinette had come at him like a woman on a mission, lips pursed with one target in mind. But it wasn’t just her.
He’d kissed her back.
Not reflexively. Not out of politeness. Not in a whoops, I tripped and fell mouth-first kind of way.
He. Kissed. Her. Back.
Her blue eyes had betrayed him. Tricked him into thinking she was someone else. Someone he’d been aching for. But the feel of her lips — soft, warm, familiar — had shattered him.
And now?
Now he was falling apart.
‘No. Nope. Absolutely not,’ he muttered, scrubbing both hands down his face like it might erase the memory. ‘This is insane. I’m losing it.’
But it made sense, didn’t it?
Marinette.
The girl in the storage cupboard.
Ladybug.
The dress — black under transformation but his eye colour when worn by Marinette. How had he missed it?
And her eyes. Those ridiculously perfect, traitorous blue eyes. She made his whole body hum. She always had. Everything he felt for the mysterious girl from the chats… for Ladybug… for his wife... it was starting to form a terrifying, glittery triangle of Oh-no-I-might’ve-been-in-love-with-the-same-woman-three-times-over.
He resumed pacing, dragging his fingers through his hair with the energy of a caffeinated tornado.
‘Marinette. Closet. Ladybug,’ he chanted, like a demented mantra. ‘Marinette. Closet. Ladybug.’
Finally, he dropped to a crouch, pressing his fists against his eyes like he could just smush the truth into something less horrifying. His brain was scrambled eggs. His moral compass had flown the coop.
Then— BANG.
A sharp knock at the door jolted him upright.
Ladybug.
His stomach sank as he shuffled his position in the living room to let her in, careful not to catch sight of anything he really shouldn’t see.
Like, say, Marinette in a mask.
He groaned, head tipping back to stare at the ceiling, the freshly painted ceiling Ladybug had focused on while sitting on his shoulders last week before they…
Nope.
Nope nope nope.
He smacked the side of his head with the heel of his palm, a last-ditch effort to knock these dangerous thoughts straight to the moon.
The knock had barely echoed through the apartment when the door flew open and in tumbled Ladybug, giggling like she’d just heard the funniest joke on Earth.
Adrien blinked.
Tikki, riding the wave of panic only a Kwami could muster, zipped out of her spot with a shriek.
‘Chat Noir! Close your eyes!’
He turned his head and slapped a hand over his face like a medieval maiden shielding her virtue. But the damage was already done.
He’d heard her. Staggering into the lounge like a wrecking ball. With zero warning, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. His hands found the small of her back and the smooth material of her dress.
The dress which, though a different colour transformed, was the exact same style as the one Ladybug had modelled for him. How did he not realise earlier?
‘I missed you,’ she slurred, the words muffled by his shirt. ‘Also, you smell incredible.’
‘T-thanks?’ he replied, hands moving over her back. ‘Bugaboo, maybe we power down, hmm?’
He called on her transformation with a whisper, and (thank the miracle box) as he powered down, her suit vanished in a shimmer of light, revealing his wife underneath.
Marinette.
No, not Marinette. Ladybug. Not yet. He needed more time to process.
If he wasn’t holding her up, he’d hit himself in the head once more for good measure.
She blinked up at him, eyes dreamy and half-lidded, and gave him the most adoring grin he’d ever seen. ‘You're so handsome,’ she murmured, before promptly going limp in his arms.
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ he muttered, catching her before she could slide to the floor like a melting snowman. He scooped her up bridal-style and started toward the bedroom. ‘You’re lucky you’re cute.’
‘So lucky,’ she giggled against his shoulder, her words getting sleepier with every step. ‘I married Paris’ sexiest male, you know. A sexy superhero model who smells like bergamot.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ he chuckled.
By the time he laid her on the bed, her eyes had slipped shut. He tucked a pillow under her head and started to turn away—
Snort.
He paused mid-step, eyebrows lifting. The most inelegant little pig-snort had just escaped his very beautiful, very tipsy wife.
‘Oh, that’s going in the memory vault,’ he whispered.
He knelt beside the bed and gently unstrapped her heels, slipping them off one by one and dropping them to the floor. She didn’t stir. He found the blanket, pulled it up over her, and smoothed it across her chest.
Then, just before turning off the light, he leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to her forehead.
‘Sleep well, Bug,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll talk in the morning... after, like, a lot of water.’
He padded off, the weight of the evening settling somewhere between his shoulders and his heart.
And still, somewhere deep down, his chest purred.
Back in the doorway, Adrien leaned against the frame and watched her sleep.
The soft rise and fall of her chest. The way her hand had curled into the pillow, lips slightly parted, hair fanned like silk across the sheets. Even like this, makeup smudged, one strap of her dress slipping off her shoulder, she was impossibly beautiful.
And suddenly it was all too much.
Her laugh in the storage closet. The way her eyes sparkled, as Ladybug, when she teased him. The quiet moments. The chaos. The snorts. The way she moved like the city was hers and the weight of the world belonged on her shoulders.
Marinette.
Ladybug.
Maybe.
He didn’t know. Not for sure. Not yet. But God, he wanted to. And not just because it might connect every tangled thread in his life, not even because it would make the puzzle pieces of his heart finally fit. No. He wanted to know her. Truly know her.
The girl in the closet. The woman he married. The superhero at his side.
They’d fallen in love through masks. Then again, through glances. And maybe now, maybe, through something real.
He slid his phone from his pocket and opened a new message. His thumbs hovered, hesitated, then typed.
He hit send.
A few seconds later, a curt but expected reply:
Adrien looked back at Ladybug once more, now snuggled deeper under the covers, her hair falling into her face. He smiled gently and whispered to the sleeping woman who had, without question, upended every part of his carefully managed life:
‘Time to get to know you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’
And with that, he flicked off the light and closed the door behind him.
Chapter 17
Notes:
Hi everyone, I know the posting schedule is erratic, but works just started back up after the summer holidays...and honestly, it's hard to keep motivated writing in this fandom anymore.
I currently have two more chapters complete and hope to finish the story...but I need the motivation. I'll try and keep posting, but can't make any promises.
Chapter Text
Marinette
Whoever thought the crazy frog was the most annoying noise out there, obviously had never suffered from a self-inflicted, eight glasses of champagne hangover. The only thing going for Marinette at the moment was that she hadn’t been sick, and her sunglasses were absolutely epic.
‘Does she need the scarf too?’ Sabrina came to stand beside her, fresh as a daisy and clipboard in hand.
Marinette, on the other hand, was nursing the wonderfully prepared, highly caffeinated, coffee her husband had so thoughtfully left for her this morning. Extra espresso shots and a dollop of whipped cream.
Marinette shook her head. ‘No. The scarf will cover the asymmetric neckline and that’s the main feature we’re trying to sell.’
Tapping around on her tablet, Marinette could feel her eyes constantly toing and forcing from her. Studying her with such an intensity, she felt more anxious than she did when she swapped Miraculous’ with her husband.
Adrien.
Without meaning to, her eyes scanned the room, searching for the human sunshine. She wasn’t entirely sure if he would be here today. He wasn’t exactly front and centre when it came to the photoshoots and designs. But he was in charge whilst his father was away, and if Marinette knew anything it was that he would have to check in at some point.
‘Who you looking for?’ Sabrina’s voice was hushed, but all knowing. Teasing in a way Marinette only really heard from Alya.
‘No one,’ she said, shrugging, tearing her eyes away from the doorway with a ridiculous amount of effort.
Whipping her sunglasses off, she glanced at Sabrina. Her cheeks had heated in a way which was a little too revealing for her liking. The last thing she needed was for anybody to think something was going on between her and the boss’ son. She’d gotten this off her own merit, not because she was slipping with the silk and satin heir.
‘Are you going to help me or not?’ The curt voice sliced through the air like a blade. Standing in front of them, Lila Rossi — Gabriel’s Next Top Model, self-declared international philanthropist, and full-time enigma — looked like a Roman goddess reincarnated. Her gold, off-the-shoulder gown shimmered with every subtle movement, practically daring the light to ignore her.
Marinette had heard plenty about Lila Rossi over the years — the woman’s résumé was practically mythological. Rescued endangered dolphins in Nice. Translated for the UN at seventeen. Saved Jagged Stone’s kitten from a burning boat. But being a hero herself, Marinette had learned to take things at face value. Especially since she knew Jagged Stone personally. The man could barely take care of himself, let alone a kitten. The main problem with the story? He didn’t even own one.
‘Sorry,’ Sabrina mumbled beside her, fumbling with the tablet in her hands as she tried to pull up the model lineup for the shoot.
Lila gave a sweet — if somewhat strained — smile and turned on a heel that probably cost more than Marinette’s monthly rent. ‘No worries,’ she said, tone sharp beneath the sugar. ‘I know you’re all probably still reeling from that little moment last night.’
Marinette blinked, trying to clear the alcohol induced fog clouding her thoughts. ‘Sorry… what moment?’
Lila’s smile widened. ‘Oh, you haven’t seen?’ She tilted her phone screen toward Marinette, tapping a video open. The screen filled with footage from the gala — shaky, zoomed in, but unmistakably clear. The kiss. Adrien Agreste and Marinette. Tangled in a crowd, holding each other like no one else existed. Lips locked.
It had gone viral.
Marinette’s heart dropped into her heels.
‘I mean,’ Lila continued, breezily, ‘I suppose some people don’t need a media team to create buzz. It’s very… raw. A little reckless. But sure, romantic.’ She reached forward, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her dress. ‘The press are loving it. Your PR team must be thrilled.’
Marinette blinked again, forcing her jaw to stay where it belonged. ‘Right. Thrilled.’
‘Just be careful,’ Lila added with a saccharine smile, glancing at Marinette’s dress before turning. ‘Those kinds of fireworks tend to fizzle out fast.’
As she sauntered away, Sabrina leaned in. ‘Do we hate her?’
Marinette exhaled. ‘Only a little.’
But even as she tried to laugh it off, the heat of the kiss burned at the back of her mind — not just because it had been passionate or public, but because it hadn’t been acted. Not on her part. And maybe, just maybe, not on his either.
‘Show me that photo again.’
Sabrina fumbled with the tablet in her hands, finding the news sites which had published articles from the gala. And there it was! Her lips pressed firmly against Adrien’s looking like they did this often. Not the tentative first kiss. Not the drunk kiss. But a full on, tongues in each other’s mouths, going to take you home with me kiss.
‘Did you know about this?’ Marinette hissed, turning her back to the shoot.
‘I… err… I…’
‘You did! Why didn’t you tell me?’
Sabrina glanced over her shoulder before whispering, ‘I thought you knew.’
Marinette glared at her. ‘Does this face look like someone who knew? There’s pictures of me kissing Adrien all over the internet. Oh my goodness… this whole thing is going to look planned. I’m going to be hated!’
‘By who?’ Sabrina asked, perplexed by the whole conversation.
‘Everyone!’ Marinette declared a little too loudly.
A cough sounded behind them, and instead of turning around and facing the newcomer with something similar to professionalism, Marinette squealed, threw the tablet at Sabrina and elbowed the person behind her rather aggressively in the stomach. As her elbow made impact with the unsuspecting victim, she was overwhelmed by a smell. A certain smell she was all too familiar with. A smell that had soaked into their pillows and bed. A smell that belonged to Chat Noir.
Slowly, Marinette turned around. Adrien was crouched down, arms wrapped around his stomach and instantly, she knew she’d once again messed up.
Adrien
Nothing said good morning from the possible love of your life like a hard elbow to the gut.
Adrien remained doubled over as he tried to somewhat breathe or else he was going to pass out. He hadn’t been this winded since Félix thought it would be a good idea to dive off the high board into the swimming pool in a not-so-elegant belly flop.
When he’d entered the studio he was a man on a mission. The essence of cool and calm, set on finding Marinette and starting his interrogation. Instead, he was now trying to remember how to breathe?
In through the nose and out through the mouth.
‘I am so sorry!’ Her apologetic voice was like music to his ears, and he just wanted to absorb himself in her…if he didn’t die from respiratory problems beforehand that was.
‘It’s…it…’ The words wouldn’t come. He just couldn’t gather enough air to push them out, and he was quite certain he’d never been so embarrassed in all his life. Adrien held up one hand, turned away and stumbled like Quasimodo to the other side of the room.
He flopped down on the sofa and attempted to straighten himself up. This was swiftly followed by a wheeze and a rather impressive coughing fit.
The sofa beside him dipped. ‘Oh, Adrien. What have you done this time?’
Every inch of him curled in on itself. He knew the owner of this voice. She moved closer, her sickeningly sweet scent settling uneasily in his stomach. Lila Rossi. He still couldn’t get his breathing to regulate enough to speak. The silence encouraged her to move closer, scooting next to him and lowering her face to his ear.
Fear crept all over him. Terrified for what she might do next. Her warm breath had his tail stand on end.
‘If you need CPR, just let me know. I’m very well skilled at mouth to mouth.’
With a yelp, Adrien was on his feet, striding forward to the woman he needed. Adrien grabbed Marinette’s arm, dragging her away from whenever conversation she was having with her assistant and into the corridor. Unsure what to do, Adrien pulled open the closed door and pushed Marinette inside. Without thinking too much about where they were, Adrien followed her in and slammed the door closed behind them, locking them both into the dark closet.
‘I don’t know if you’ve brought me in here to kill me or chastise me.’
Adrien glanced up, trying to find Marinette in the dark. Pointless.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Lila was coming onto me and I panicked.’
The sounds in the room were broken by a rather cute-yet-piglet-like snort. ‘And that’s a problem because…’ she trailed off, leaving him to answer.
So, why was it a problem? Could it be that he was married? Could it be that his wife was right there? Or could it be that Lila Rossi shrivelled up his delicates so much, he was unsure if they’d ever come back down again?
But none of those choices were an option. Not without giving away many, many things he had to contain in a locked box. Which meant he needed to come up with a good reason and quickly.
‘Because you kissed me.’ The words came out without any thought, and he wished he could make them disappear. He could feel Plagg’s eyes roll in his pocket.
He continued to stare towards where he thought she was standing. His eyes were sharp just in case he caught a glimpse of her.
Then she said, ‘turn the lights on.’
Fumbling around on the wall next to him, Adrien attempted to find the switch — anything to get some kind of light in the room. Nothing.
‘I’m not sure there is a light,’ Adrien said.
‘That’s just dandy, isn’t it!’
‘Dandy?’ Adrien laughed. ‘What are you? From the 50s?’
‘Are you making fun of me?’
Adrien shook his head, unfazed by the fact she couldn’t see him. ‘Not at all. Just pointing out the origin of dandy.’
Marinette huffed. ‘I’m almost certain that is not the origin of dandy.’
Hearing her voice in the dark was an unexplainable feeling, especially now he knew who she was, what she looked like and how she tasted …
‘Why did you kiss me?’ The words came out before he could stop them, fired like a rogue thought that had been simmering too long in the pan.
She didn’t respond at first. He thought maybe she hadn’t heard him, until she shifted and knocked something off a shelf with a loud thunk.
‘You had a hand on your arm,’ she muttered eventually. ‘I panicked.’
‘Oh, so it was a panic kiss. That’s comforting.’
‘It worked, didn’t it?’
It had. Far too well.
He rubbed the back of his neck, grateful for the darkness. ‘I just— I wasn’t expecting it. And then I… kissed you back.’
‘Yeah, I noticed,’ she said dryly. ‘We were both there.’
He huffed a laugh. ‘You always do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Derail me.”
The silence returned, but this time it crackled with something else. Adrien swallowed, shifting slightly so that his shoulder pressed against a shelf. He was definitely standing too close, but he didn’t want to move.
‘Do you think,’ he said slowly, ‘we’d still talk like this if we weren’t in the dark?’
He hoped she'd caught the underlying meaning.
Another pause. Then: ‘I don’t know.’
He hesitated, then added, ‘Do you ever feel like… I don’t know who you are? Not really. Like there’s this whole part of you I keep trying to see, but it’s just out of reach?’
The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Honest.
And then she said, soft as a breath, ‘You’re not the only one.’
That did something to him. Twisted his insides in a way he wasn’t ready to admit.
He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes — not that it made any difference.
But every time they ended up in this stupid cupboard, he got a little closer. As Adrien and Marinette, without knowing and he wanted more.
God help him, he wanted all of her.
Ladybug
The day had been … unexpected to say the least.
Entering the apartment, she was tempted to forget the transformation and just wander around as herself because without a doubt, they both knew. They both knew too much and there was more at risk than she could get her head around.
If the guardians found out — if someone had caught on — they would be done. The Miraculous would be taken and they would lose everything they’d worked so hard for. They had to keep this a secret, and the only way was to pretend.
When they came out of the closet, there were too many surprised faces to take it all in. And being the semi-mature adults they were, they’d managed to avoid any conversation about the publicised kiss, or the fact they were found falling out of a cupboard looking slightly dishevelled. An unfortunate accident including Adrien catching her as her heel caught in a bucket.
Moving into the kitchen, she lazily called on her transformation, powering down and reaching for the fridge. She opened the door knowing full well she was in no mood to cook. Her brain was barely functioning properly as she pieced together everything from his accent to the kiss.
Who would ever have thought, Adrien Agreste, Paris’ sweetheart, moonlit as Chat Noir — punny superhero with a flair for sacrificing themselves. Unbelievable.
Forgoing any idea of cooking them a proper dinner, she searched for her phone, praying that UberEats had some sort of discount at the moment.
Lost in thoughts of eating Thai noodles with Chat Noir, she completely missed the door opening and closing and the call of her name. It wasn’t until strong arms wrapped around her waist, and a chin rested on her shoulder that she realised her husband was home … and unfortunately, so did her elbow — straight into his gut… again.
With hands over her eyes, she turned around, unable to take them from her face and see Adrien bent down on the floor below. But it wouldn’t be Adrien. Not this time. Instead it would be Chat Noir… her partner, her husband. Goodness, she was married to Paris’ number one and number two favourite bachelor.
‘I’m so sorry, Kitty.’
Slowly, she removed her hands from her eyes. The vision of her husband on his knees in front of her wasn’t as delightful as it usually was.
He held up one hand, his head bent down and showing her the top of his golden mane.
‘I’m just a destruction zone today.’
‘I think…’ he breathed in heavily, gasping to fill his lungs, ‘… that’s me.’
Without hesitating, she grabbed hold of his arm and slung it over her shoulders, lifting it up and carrying him over to the sofa. She hadn’t realised until this moment that she’d retained her super strength. Definitely something she wanted to look into at a later time.
‘Here,’ she said, sitting beside him and rubbing his back.
A rumble pulsed through his body, the unconscious purr vibrating around the room.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
The purring increased. The intense sound caused her to giggle. He laughed. Then she laughed more until they were both unable to control themselves. Ladybug didn’t know if it was laughter from the intensity of the situation or from the pent up tension that has been lingering since the gala.
‘So, what did you want for dinner?’
Chat’s face lit up, his eyes wide and a sparkle in them that sent a thrill down her spine. He was most certainly hungry…but not for food.
Chat Noir
By the time they’d pulled the blankets over them, Chat Noir was exhausted in every delicious sense of the word. After far too long in bed, they’d eaten far too late — checking out the latest episodes of Love Island before finally calling it a night.
The only problem was Ladybug had fallen asleep whilst he was in the bathroom, meaning he had to try and climb in without getting battered by his erratic wife’s sleep behaviour. She’d already moved across half the bed and ended up on his side — starfished and drooling — yet she still looked like the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.
Seeing her…Marinette…today was like a fantasy come true. He might not have the definitive proof yet, but he was certain he was right. His Lady without her mask and right in front of him. She was now literally within his grasps and yet she could never know.
After the photoshoot he couldn’t help but think about how they could possibly make it happen. Make it so that they could be together. Maybe as Chat he could offer her a more open relationship, tell her to find someone and proposition them? He could play it smart and guide her in the direction of the British guy she’d been speaking to, after all, he was certain the guy would say yes… but he was also certain Ladybug — Marinette — would say no.
He relaxed back onto his pillow and studied the ceiling. This was a nightmare. All he wanted to do was be with her without masks. It was such a cruel joke that less than a month after they were married he found out her identity…and a tiny piece of him hoped she’d worked it out too.
‘Lucky charm!’ The sudden announcement from his wife’s mouth was met with a punch to his shoulder and a pillow dropping on his face. This was the third time this week she’d summoned a lucky charm in her sleep. Usually they would be some kind of bed related item…though the time a lamp fell onto his head (whilst he was asleep) was not a laughing matter the next morning — neither was the black eye.
Grabbing the pillow, Chat threw it onto the floor before rolling his Lady over to face the opposite direction. He’d never known anyone could talk so much in their sleep. She could give away all her deep dark secrets without knowing.
‘Idiot,’ she mumbled and he tried not to take too much offence.
‘Back at ya, babe!’ he grumbled, turning over to face the opposite side.
Ladybug continued to mumble a little, ramblings of fabric choices and costs. Apparently the synthetic fabric was a fair more luxurious choice — something he knew Marinette would never ever say.
Chat rolled over, placing one hand under his pillow as he stared at the back of her head, or at least what he thought was the back of her head, it was hard to see in the dark.
‘No, you don’t want to do that Bug.’ He spoke softly, not wanting her to wake up. ‘You mentioned the other day about Duchesse Satin. I think that would be a wonderful idea.’ He stretched a hand up and stroked the side of her head, running his fingers softly through her hair. ‘You told Nathalie you needed something with a heavy flow for draping - smooth, high sheen.’
‘Duchesse…expensive.’
Chat Noir smiled. ‘It is. But if we change the design quantity from ten different styles to seven, we can save the money and up the material.’
‘Mikado,’ she muttered.
‘We spoke about that love. You said it was too heavy and structured. That it’s more for bridal wear.’
She sighed, a soft hum escaping from her lips. ‘You’re right.’
Oh, how he wished he’d recorded that? The admission he’d been waiting years to hear.
‘I am. Don’t worry about it, Bug. We’ll work through it together, with or without the masks.’
He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before rolling back and placing one arm behind his head. He would keep quiet about it, keep it to himself, because she was his everything and he wouldn’t survive if he ever lost her.
Pages Navigation
Djwriterkp on Chapter 1 Thu 12 Jun 2025 11:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 05:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
Chris_BG on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 02:24AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 05:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
chai_ki on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 02:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 05:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
Lay_D_B (BeccaD) on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 03:17AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 05:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
Shootingstarssel on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 04:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 05:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
Lory282010 on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 04:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 05:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Lory282010 on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 08:22AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Sat 14 Jun 2025 06:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
KaSi86 on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 05:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 13 Jun 2025 07:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
InconsistentlyHere on Chapter 1 Sat 14 Jun 2025 05:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Sat 14 Jun 2025 06:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
Amarilke on Chapter 1 Sat 21 Jun 2025 01:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Mon 23 Jun 2025 07:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
bohemianrhapsody711 on Chapter 1 Mon 07 Jul 2025 02:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Sun 13 Jul 2025 07:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
AnakinMousestalker on Chapter 1 Mon 18 Aug 2025 05:42PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 1 Fri 22 Aug 2025 09:10PM UTC
Comment Actions
FlosLuna on Chapter 2 Tue 01 Jul 2025 09:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 2 Thu 03 Jul 2025 04:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
Shootingstarssel on Chapter 2 Tue 01 Jul 2025 11:55PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 01 Jul 2025 11:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 2 Thu 03 Jul 2025 04:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
Shootingstarssel on Chapter 2 Mon 07 Jul 2025 02:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
BijiOnASunday on Chapter 2 Wed 02 Jul 2025 04:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 2 Thu 03 Jul 2025 04:57PM UTC
Comment Actions
sparklehannah on Chapter 2 Wed 02 Jul 2025 11:46AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 2 Thu 03 Jul 2025 04:57PM UTC
Comment Actions
QuagsirePaladin on Chapter 2 Fri 04 Jul 2025 06:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 2 Fri 04 Jul 2025 08:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
bohemianrhapsody711 on Chapter 2 Mon 07 Jul 2025 03:46AM UTC
Comment Actions
bohemianrhapsody711 on Chapter 2 Mon 07 Jul 2025 04:05AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 2 Sun 13 Jul 2025 07:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
chai_ki on Chapter 2 Mon 18 Aug 2025 01:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 2 Fri 22 Aug 2025 09:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
FlosLuna on Chapter 3 Sun 06 Jul 2025 08:46PM UTC
Comment Actions
QuagsirePaladin on Chapter 3 Mon 07 Jul 2025 12:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 3 Sun 13 Jul 2025 07:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 3 Sun 13 Jul 2025 07:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
Shootingstarssel on Chapter 3 Mon 07 Jul 2025 02:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aurea_Rose on Chapter 3 Sun 13 Jul 2025 07:48PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation