Work Text:
Adrien’s favorite color had always been blue.
Sky blue, the color of his scarf that his father, she, had knitted.
He never though it could have been pink.
Pink, the color of her cheeks whenever he tells her how much he loves her, pink, the color of her lips that draws him towards her, pink, the color that represents her entirely, and he can’t help but fall in love with pink, reminding him of her.
One day, Adrien searches up the meaning of pink. Pink, symbolizing innocence, playfulness, romance, sweetness, and cuteness, and Adrien is reminded of why he fell in love with her all over again.
Pink, the sweet, romantic color representing Marinette, and he emits a lovesick sigh as Plagg scoffs at him, muttering about cheese.
.——.——.——.——.
She lets him cry on his shoulder when he’s had a tough day with photoshoot after photoshoots, Lila touching him, his father cancelling plans on him again, not even letting him meet his friends, forcing Adrien to go as Chat to Marinette’s balcony with tears stinging in his eyes.
Adrien’s been used to not express his emotions. What did it ever accomplish? Whenever he used to, his father would tell him to stop overreacting on such trivial issues, and that he has a reputation to uphold.
Marinette, though, lets him.
She lets him cry, yell, sob whatever issues he has. She listens with her whole heart, devoting her attention to him and only him. She comforts him and touches him only when he wants to be, and murmurs sweet things to him, telling how much she loves him.
And she stays with him.
.——.——.——.——.
He loves going to the Dupain-Cheng’s.
He feels loved, when Mr. Dupain—who he insists calling Tom—welcomes him with open arms, ruffling his hair with hearty laughs and calling him son, when Sabine smiles and hugs him, while pushing a plate full of pastries and food, telling him to eat, that he’s so skinny and needs to be fed, and Marinette smiling at him while grabbing his hand and taking him up to her room, with walls covered with pictures of Adrien, Chat, and their friends, the Miracle Box, with all the kwamis greeting and nuzzling him, making him feel like he’s home.
Home, with her, her beautiful soul and rose-colored cheeks.
.——.——.——.——.
When he can’t make it to patrol, Marinette swings by as Ladybug, and knocks on his window, as he turns around in his desk chair, tripping and fumbling while running towards her with a red hue on his cheeks as he helps her inside.
He wonders sometimes if she comes as Ladybug to fluster him, making him awkward and clumsy while she’s confident and sassy and Ladybug.
When it’s him as Adrien and her as Ladybug, it ends with heavy, mingled breaths as she straddles him, with lips swollen and chapped and bruised, shared gasps and pants with Adrien’s cheeks as red as her suit. His hair is messed up and he’s utterly destroyed, as she goes back in, biting his lower lip and trailing kisses down his neck as he whimpers and holds her tightly.
Pink is good and all, but sometimes, Adrien likes the red, symbolizing passion and desire and Ladybug, and her oh-so-good lips on him, claiming him to be hers.
.——.——.——.——.
He loves being the only one to bring out that rosy blush on Marinette’s cheeks. Whenever he grabs her hand to kiss it, or pulling her flush against him for a chaste kiss, or any sort of physical contact, he’s rewarded with pink blooming on her cheeks while she mumbles incoherent words, her mouth agape, with a dazed look in her dreamy bluebell eyes, while playing with his lucky charm on her wrist that he made, as she does the same.
Plagg told him he was wrapped around her finger and was madly in love with her.
But to be honest? Adrien thought. He didn’t really care.
.——.——.——.——.
She’s currently on top of him, sleepy and tired after long akuma battles back to back, not to mention exhausted from crying.
She’d knocked the air out of him when they landed inside her room, transformations barely dropping, with angry tears on his neck and shirt, with her fisted hands punching his chest as he pulled her against him. He knew she hated seeing him sacrifice himself for her. He knew he would get yelled at if he did it.
But he did. And she knew he would.
When she asks him why, he tells her because he needs to. Because she’s more important than him. That Paris can survive without Cat Noir, but not without Ladybug. That no one would need him even if he’s gone.
She tells him she does. She tells him he means the world to her. That there’s no Ladybug without Cat Noir, and she hates seeing him gone and reassuring herself that he’s here, and he’s okay. She asks him to promise not to sacrifice himself.
He tells her that he promises to protect her, and gently kisses her forehead.
He’s falling into sleep, dimly aware that she’s playing with their Kwagatamas, Yin and Yang, two pieces of a whole, that hang around their necks.
She whispers an I love you to him.
.——.——.——.——.
His highlight of the day is when she comes to his photoshoots.
Especially when it’s with Lila.
He looks up and sees her short, plaid, baby pink summer dress swinging around her knees with her hair pulled back and a box filled with passion-fruit macarons and a smirk on her pink lips as she raises an eyebrow at how uncomfortable he is.
Lila tenses at his side, and tightens her hold on his arm with a fake smile at Marinette, pressing herself at him, with him slowly pulling away.
Vincent notices Adrien’s attention at Marinette, as he sighs and allows him to take a break, and Adrien doesn’t need to be told twice, as he runs towards her, causally ignoring Lila, grabbing her arm and going to a secluded corner, where he’ll then kiss her, as she grabs his shirt’s collar, bracing herself, while kissing his cheeks before pulling away to let him eat.
(Later he’ll wipe off the pink lipstick of his cheeks as she smiles, before pushing him to finish the shoot, so they’ll have a little more time together.)
.——.——.——.——.
Adrien always thought nobody ever really loved him.
Sure his dad maybe did, but he barely had any time to spend with him.
And his friends did too, but not like she did.
Marinette’s different.
She treats like he’s wanted, like he’s needed, and tells him he’s worth it.
And whenever he feels like he isn’t, she presses her lips, hard, against him, silencing him and his thoughts.
He tells her this one time, after a study date gone wrong with her on his lap in her room, their pants and breaths shared with erratic pulses and pink blushes.
He tells her he wouldn’t mind spending an eternity with her, wax lips against wax lips, marble to marble, molded together in the plaster of destiny.
She shuts him up with a kiss.