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Her Maman had always told her that dreams are your heart’s way of whispering to your head what it truly wants. She’d asked why the heart would need to do that as she got tucked into bed, and her Maman had smiled, eyes twinkling with fond amusement at her little girl. She said that some heads are more stubborn than others, and sometimes needed a bit more help in figuring things out. Then she reached out to turn off Marinette’s night light and pressed a kiss on her forehead.
Marinette didn’t truly grasp what her Maman had meant until now.
In her dreams, she sees wisps of golden hair and bright green eyes. This, in of itself, isn’t surprising in the least.
No, what’s bothering her is that she isn’t sure who they belong to.
In some dreams, she feels gentle fingers run down her arms, leaving trails of warmth in their wake, and soft lips brushing her forehead. In others, she sees phantom smirks and a ghost of a laugh so alive and familiar it ignited fire in her bones.
If you were to tell her about these dreams months ago, she’d answer with complete certainty that they’re of Adrien Agreste, the boy with a smile like the summer sun, who holds her heart in the palm of his hand without even knowing it—with evergreen eyes that speak volumes of his kindness that made her weak in the knees and his soft voice that never fails to reassure her that made her insides melt.
But now… things are different. Because just as much as she sees Adrien in these dreams, she also sees the boy who lounges on her balcony with a lazy grin and a witty quip at the ready in that strangely irritating yet endearing way he’s managed to master, the boy who’d jump rooftops by her side with whoops of pure joy and freedom as he takes the plunge. The one who’d tease her relentlessly on some nights and sit quietly observing her on others, before gathering her in his arms, and burying his face into the crook of her neck just before he leaves.
Now, try as she might—and oh, did she truly, truly try—Marinette can’t help but consider the possibility that maybe… maybe she is dreaming of Chat Noir.
And, oh, did that revelation drive Marinette insane.
Because that didn’t help her one bit—her dreams come with no instruction manual, and Tikki’s interpretations prove to be less than desired, and it leaves her wondering: Who is the boy haunting her subconscious? Is it one, or the other? What is her heart trying to tell her?
And most importantly, why, oh why, does it have to be split into two?
~*~
“Mar?” Alya asks, shaking her arm gently. Marinette cracks her eye open a sliver, flinching at the bright fluorescent light of their classroom. Her head is pounding, and every creak of their wooden desk and scrape of chair legs on the floor exacerbates the pain.
“Tired,” Marinette mumbles, burying her face in her arms.
“Don’t tell me you stayed up embroidering that gown again, you know you don’t need it for another three months and it’s almost done.”
“I couldn’t sleep, I might as well have gotten something done. And hey, at least I’m not late today,” she replies, peeking up at Alya resignedly. Alya purses her lips but doesn’t argue, opting to slide her half-finished iced coffee in front of Marinette. She gives her a grateful smile before sitting up and sipping on the drink greedily, hoping for the extra boost of energy.
It isn’t a lie, per se, either—she really couldn’t sleep in fear of having more dreams of… a certain someone, whose identity remains to be seen, which have become distressingly frequent the more the two possible candidates interact with her in real life.
Chat’s clandestine balcony visits have turned into a regular weekend thing now, and Adrien has somehow made it his life’s mission to give her heart much unneeded exercise by paying extra attention to her and appearing out of nowhere.
Marinette’s gaze strays to the front of the classroom just as Nino and Adrien step into the room, and her heart leaps in her chest as his eyes lock with hers.
Speak of the devil—or in this case, angel—and he shall appear.
He pauses, eyebrows raising slightly before his lips curve into a soft smile.
“Good morning, Marinette!”
Her cheeks burn as she offers a feeble wave, conscious of Alya’s pleased grin beside her as Adrien settles in the seat in front of her, not taking his eyes off of her. His smile flickers as he scans her face, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and her disheveled pigtails.
“Are you… are you okay, Marinette?”
Marinette’s pulse skips at the soft concern in his voice, and she nods vigorously, trying to perk up so he doesn’t worry.
“Ye-yes, yep, all good, just stayed up gewing a sown—I mean! Sewing a gown, yeah,” she says, wincing at how high her voice has risen, but Adrien simply chuckles, placing a hand on top of hers that makes her squeak.
“Maybe we can get you some more coffee during lunch? My treat!” he says, beaming at her. She tries to ignore Nino’s bewildered look and Alya’s triumphant smile to muster a reply.
“S-sure! Alya, Nino, you guys are coming, too, right?” Marinette asks, whipping around to give Alya a panicked look. She realizes it might come off as rude, but she cannot be alone with Adrien right now, not when her thoughts and feelings are in shambles, and incredibly susceptible to just blurting out things she is in no way ready to share with Adrien or Chat Noir.
Alya heaves an exasperated sigh and agrees. Relieved, Marinette smiles at her friend, opting to turn a blind eye to way to Adrien's shoulders slump by a fraction.
“Hopefully I can stay awake for that long,” Marinette says, and Alya snorts.
Adrien looks at her contemplatively for a second longer before breaking out into a (familiar, her brain hisses) mischievous smirk, eyeing her like he knows something she doesn’t.
“I believe you can brew it, Marinette! Give it your best shot,” he says, preening as Nino groans at him, nudging him playfully by the shoulder.
“God, Sunshine, that was terrible,” Alya replies, but Marinette can only gape at him.
Marinette goes rigid as she stares at Adrien, who’s still waiting for her reaction. Her jaw goes slack as the image of cat ears perched on the top of his head with its ears pricked forward and a black mask with luminescent green eyes superimposes itself onto his face. Her heart shoots up her throat, her pen slipping out of her hand and clacking to the table as she chokes.
Immediately, Adrien’s expression shifts, eyes widening in alarm.
“Marinette?”
Something is ringing in her ears, and she knows her reaction is irrational at best, and extremely worrying at worst, but she can’t exactly explain why nor will she even know how to, so she takes a deep breath and forces a smile that she knows looks more like a grimace.
“S-sorry. I just remembered that my parents need some help at the bakery during lunch time, so I c-can’t come…”
Adrien’s face falls in disappointment, and she can already feel Alya’s disbelieving glare at the back of her head but Marinette’s hands are still shaking and she knows that she has no hope of pulling herself together before lunch and will end up doing something regrettable.
Like reaching out and booping Adrien’s nose if he makes another awful pun like that.
So instead, Marinette sets up her tablet, not meeting anyone else’s eye as she focuses on erasing that picture of Chat on Adrien from her head.
She doesn’t succeed.
~*~
Marinette sees a mouth curve into a smug grin, rows of pearly white teeth and soft, inviting pink lips. She reaches out, tracing them with her fingers before her thumb rests on its edge, and she tries to look up to see who it belongs to, but she can’t.
Then it moves in the shape of her name.
“Marinette?”
~*~
At the end of the day, Marinette doesn’t have the heart to make Chat Noir stay away from her.
The chaotic nature of her feelings aside, Chat Noir only has her to turn to, whether it be her civilian or hero form, and she can’t bear to take away either of them when it’s oh-so-very clear that Chat has long needed someone to be his constant.
Still, his presence doesn’t make her any less tense, even if he is sitting in a corner of her room getting comically and hopelessly tangled in yarn.
“How did you—” Marinette splutters, putting down the cloth she was embroidering as Chat sends an embarrassed grin coupled with kitten eyes her way. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.”
“Sew-rry, Princess. I didn’t mean to. Needle-less to say, I require some, ah, assistance getting this off of me.”
Marinette snorts, crossing her arms and ignoring the rapid thud of her heart against her ribcage.
“I’m considering leaving you there to suffer just for those horrible puns.”
Chat pouts harder, letting out a pitiful little whimper as he struggles against the yarn.
“Princess, don’t be so loom and doom! How can you leave this cat in his hour of need?”
“Quite easily, honestly.”
“Marinette,” he says, drawing out her name in a high-pitched whine that has her giggling. She crouches down next to him and starts undoing the yarn wrapped around his ankles.
“Oh, kitty, how do you manage to find yourself in these knots?” Marinette sighs exaggeratedly, and Chat’s eyes light up like stars, making Marinette’s stomach flutter.
“Such is the luck of a black cat, I’m afraid. I’m doomed to be like this fur-ever, it seams.” Chat declares dramatically. Marinette bursts out laughing, and Chat puffs out his chest in pride, snickering along with her.
“God, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” Marinette says through her laughter, finally loosening the string off of his ankles. Chat’s grin widens, stretching his legs as Marinette starts to work on the tangles on his arms and chest.
“I needed that laugh, though,” she adds as an afterthought, thinking nothing of it, but Chat’s demeanor changes entirely, his leather ears pressing close to his head.
“What do you mean? Are you alright?”
Marinette pauses at his tone, looking up with a frown. Her mouth dries as she realizes just how close their faces are and hopes he doesn’t notice how her breath stutters.
“Huh? It’s nothing, I just haven’t laughed like that in a while,” she replies, successfully freeing Chat’s right arm from its binds, before moving to his left. She feels his concerned gaze on her and her mouth dries at its intensity.
“Why not?”
She shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, hoping she can deflect whatever it is. Marinette didn’t think he’d read too much into it, but then again, Chat Noir had always been the more tender-hearted of the two of them as heroes, always trying to make things better and offer comfort whenever he can to victims, making time for a photo and a quick conversation with fans, always had more patience with the paparazzi that told her he’s used to dealing with them—
Marinette stops abruptly, her mind blaring warning sounds as her train of thought wades into dangerous territory.
A hand rests on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, and Marinette represses a shudder. She closes her eyes, afraid to look up and see another set of green eyes staring down at her with unbridled care.
“You can talk to me, you know that, right?” he continues, his voice mild, as if still gauging whether to push her or not.
“I know I can.”
Marinette returns to untangling the yarn on his left arm, and with one final pull, it unravels. In one quick, sweeping move, Chat dives forward and wraps her in a hug, his hand cradling the back of her head and the other snaking around her waist. She gasps, stunned, but he’s so warm and exuding such affection that she can’t help but melt against his embrace.
It feels new and recognizable at the same time, a memory flashing in the back of her mind, and she sees party decorations, couples holding each other, strong arms wrapped around her, and a strange mix of cologne and cheese. But most of all, Marinette feels safe. At peace.
Hugging Chat is exactly like hugging Adrien, and her heart lurches at the thought. But instead of pulling away, she holds onto him even tighter.
“If you ever need anything… anything at all, Marinette, just say the word, okay? I can’t promise that I’ll be able to give it, but you can be sure that I’ll do everything I can to.”
Marinette buries her face in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders.
She thinks she feels him shudder under her touch, but she can’t be sure, not when she’s a much bigger mess than he is right now.
“That’s a big promise, Chat.”
“After everything you’ve done for me? It’s not nearly enough.”
Marinette pulls back and breathes out slowly as she sees the black mask framing his face, his eyes still a vivid neon green of cat’s. They scan her, trying to quietly puzzle the emotions in her expression, and she can’t help but smile.
“Well, right now, a hug is fine,” she replies, and Chat smiles as she rests her chin on his shoulder.
“As the Princess wishes.”
~*~
A soft hand tugs at her wrist, guiding it to cup a cheek, leaning into her touch with a content sigh. The lips give way to a kinder, fonder smile, and Marinette’s throat closes up, the want to see to whom they belong threatening to consume her whole.
“You’re beautiful,” they say, and their achingly familiar voice makes fire shoot up Marinette’s spine, her heart stumbling at the words.
~*~
“Do they not feed you at home, blondie?” Alya asks incredulously, staring as Adrien takes another macaron from the box.
“Model diet,” he replies with a sheepish grin, swallowing his food. “I’m allowed to, but if my dietician ever sees me eating like this, he’ll definitely give me ‘The Look, you know?” Adrien answers, using his fingers as air quotes before taking another bite.
“Oh, so like, pastries are like the weed of the modelling industry,” Nino says, yelping when Alya elbows him. “What? I meant that they’re technically legal and overall a pretty good thing, but still frowned upon.”
“I don’t think—okay, yeah, maybe that is a fair comparison.”
“See? I told you that makes sense, babe.”
Alya rolls her eyes, nudging Marinette with her foot under the table to get someone on her side.
“No, keep me out of this discussion, Alya, if the boys want to make flimsy comparisons, we should let them. I remember what happened the last time and I do not want a repeat of that while I’m eating my lunch.” Marinette says, taking a bite of her sandwich.
“Hey, I made some good points and you know it!”
“Ketchup is not the weird cousin of smoothies, Lahiffe!” Alya argues.
“A tomato is a fruit, though, and smoothies are like… smooth, liquid versions of the fruit. So yeah, technically, ketchup is a smoothie,” Adrien points out teasingly as Alya glares at him.
“That’s not the principle of it! You can’t drink ketchup!”
“If you three don’t keep quiet and get us kicked out, I’m making smoothies out of all of you,” Marinette grumbles, wiping her mouth with a napkin, and gets a shocked laugh out of Adrien.
Thankfully, Nino and Alya lower the volume of their bickering enough to not spite the café manager who’s been giving them dirty looks, and Marinette sighs in relief.
Unfortunately, with the two so engrossed in their debate, she’s left staring at Adrien eating, who looks like he’s waiting for her to say something. Marinette chews on her lower lip, averting her gaze to a particularly interesting paint stain on the café window.
She reaches over for another macaron to distract from her thoughts, but she feels warm fingers graze hers and Marinette jerks back at the contact, wide eyes meeting Adrien’s.
“Sorry!” Marinette says, her voice a little too high.
“It’s fine…” Adrien looks a little apprehensive at her reaction, but holds out the macaron to her. “Would you like to share? It’s the last one.”
Marinette shakes her head, gesturing for him to have it and prays her heart stops squeezing tightly in her chest.
“No, that’s okay, you can have it. I’ll bring some again if you’d like.”
With a thankful smile, Adrien takes the macaron and stuffs it whole into his mouth, and Marinette only gapes in surprise.
He makes a little delighted hum as his cheeks puff up when he chews, and she can only watch him as she’s bombarded with memories of a certain boy stuffing himself with cookies with crumbs all over his face and lap as she gives him a fond, exasperated sigh, his leather tail lashing out of excitement.
“Ish shomething wrong?” Adrien asks with his mouth full, and oh, the little curious head tilt he does makes her stomach lurch in several directions and she has to stifle a loud gasp at how eerie the similarity is.
“Huh?”
Adrien swallows, and Marinette copies the action, her throat dry as a desert.
“Is something wrong? You were staring at me…” he repeats, sounding more unsure.
Marinette shakes her head, her eyes finding smidgens of biscuit stuck to his face and fumbles out an excuse.
“No, nothing, you just have a little something on your face…”
“Really?” Adrien’s tongue darts out to lick his lips clean, and Marinette grabs her iced tea and takes a sip before she blurts out something that she’d only say to Chat Noir. She’s being silly—in her head, she knows she is—but her heart is seemingly not getting the message as she forcefully wills away the image of Chat licking crumbs off of his face with a shameless smirk.
“Is it gone now?”
Marinette shakes her head, and reflexively, reaches over the table and swipes the bits off his cheek with her thumb like she’d done a hundred times with Chat.
What, what, what is she doing?! This is Adrien, not Chat Noir!
Goddamnit, Marinette, get a grip!
Adrien’s mouth forms into a surprised ‘o’, and even Alya and Nino pause in their heated discussion to gawk at her. Her face steadily gets hotter when Adrien’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, his lips curling into a cheeky grin that makes her knees wobble.
This is not Chat Noir, not Chat Noir, Marinette!
“T-there. All good now,” she mumbles, sinking into her seat and hoping that the floor opens up and swallows her whole.
She refuses to acknowledge anything, even as Alya starts to make subtle jabs at her all the way back to school—completely missing the tender smile Adrien has watching her that would’ve surely made her melt on the spot.
~*~
They let her hand drop from their face, and instead, they reach out and tuck a stray strand of her behind her ear, before tracing the line of her jaw with a touch so light Marinette can’t help but sigh. Even without seeing them fully, she can feel their smile widening at her reaction, and a strange thrill shoots up Marinette’s spine—it’s such a simple gesture, and yet she’s putty in their hands, and they seem to know it.
~*~
As much as the relationships between Adrien and Marinette and Chat and Marinette have changed, Ladybug and Chat Noir’s relationship has been a refreshingly steady ride, which is somewhat of a relief for her.
In fact, she can even go as far as to say that it’s only gotten stronger once she’d gotten to know her partner a little bit more. As Ladybug, it’d given her a little more empathy for him, knowing how rough he has it, and she cuts him a little slack when it comes to making jokes and goofing off as long as it doesn’t compromise them during akuma battles.
Which, of course, is what led her here.
The akuma fight was, at the very least, exhausting. It wasn’t a particularly difficult akuma, but it’d been raining cats and dogs (or, as Chat affectionately said, raining bugs and cats) all day, and Ladybug is soaked, tired, and all she wanted to do was go back home, take a warm shower and bury herself under her covers for a good few hours before Chat visited her again.
Ladybug throws the Lucky Charm up in the air, uttering the words for her Cure, and magical ladybugs sweep through the wet streets of Paris, fixing any and all damage inflicted during the fight. The victim squeals as the rain pours harder before taking shelter in an alleyway, and she and Chat hide a smile behind their palms (she ignores the blush burning on her cheeks as their shoulders brush) before following suit.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright in this weather? I can give you a lift home,” Chat asks him, and the victim—a boy their age—gapes at him with a starstruck look on his face before shaking his head.
“No! No! It’s fine! I’ve caused you enough trouble today,” he replies, waving his hands frantically, but Chat only raises an eyebrow.
“It’s no trouble at all… er…” Chat trails off, blanking on the name.
“Aaron! And no, really! It’s okay… I like walking home in the rain. I only live down the block.”
Chat hums in contemplation, before his face brightens with an idea. He takes out his baton and presses a button to reveal an umbrella.
“If that’s so, then maybe I can walk you home? M’lady, you don’t mind, do you?”
Ladybug shakes her head, smiling fondly.
“Of course not. It’s the least one of us can do to help—” she’s interrupted by her earrings beeping a warning, and she sighs. “I wish I could come with you, but my time’s almost up.”
“It’s alright. Thank you for saving me today,” Aaron says, giving her a shy grin before turning to Chat Noir.
“The Chat Noir taxi, at your service.” Chat says, bowing low as Aaron blushes.
(Ladybug doesn’t blame him one bit, Chat Noir can be quite the charmer when he wants to be.)
Then he holds out the baton umbrella, and something shifts.
Lightning flashes behind Ladybug’s eyes and she can only stare at wide eyes as the memory of a boy handing her an umbrella sends her head spinning, with a kind smile that sent her heart down a one-way path to falling head over heels in love with him. The victim looks starstruck as Chat holds the black umbrella over him, and she’s sure she doesn’t look any different, her blood roaring in her ears.
Ladybug opens her mouth, desperate to say anything to make sense of what she’s seen, but her earrings beep another shrill warning and she flinches at the sound.
Chat turns to her, an understanding smile on his lips.
“I got this, m’lady. Stay safe, okay?”
Ladybug nods dumbly, before having the sense to throw her yo-yo and swing away, her mind and heart in complete shambles.
Hours later when he visits, Chat was kind enough not to point out Marinette’s flustered ramblings and permanently rosy cheeks when he talks to her.
~*~
They move closer and Marinette’s eyes fall shut, as they press their bodies together, and they bury their face in the crook of her neck, their warm, contented sigh sending goosebumps all over her body. They nuzzle their face into their shoulder, arms snaking around her waist with a firm grip that screamed ‘mine’.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” they say, and the affection in their voice cracks a dam of emotions in Marinette.
~*~
“Do I… want to know?” Marinette asks slowly, eyeing Adrien crouched behind a tree trunk in the park.
“It’s a long story,” he says sheepishly, hand flitting to rub the back of his neck, and Marinette’s breath catches in her throat yet again at the familiar gesture. She shakes it off, copying Adrien’s stance and following his gaze.
“I’ve got time. Are we escaping The Gorilla again? Because you know how well that went last time, and I do not have a spare helmet for you, buddy, you’re on your own.”
Adrien’s grin widens, delighted at her teasing. He laughs, shaking his head before jolting up and pressing her back against the tree and putting a finger on her lips.
Any semblance of composure Marinette had before this completely evaporates at the touch, and she lets out a tiny squeak of surprise, the tips of her ears burning hot.
Adrien shushes her, pressing closer as an attempt to hide himself behind the tree.
“I’m… hiding from Chloe, okay?”
Marinette blinks once, twice before raising an eyebrow questioningly, still not trusting her words but taken aback enough to be curious.
Sure enough, Chloe saunters by, looking around with her hands on her hips.
“I… may or may not have been zoned out when she was talking to me this morning,” Adrien winces guiltily, and Marinette holds back a snort, “and accidentally agreed to go shopping with her. I tried to take it back but then she sort of… talked over me, and now here we are. She’s been looking for me for fifteen minutes all over school.”
“I’d feel sympathy for you but I feel like the lesson you should learn is never say yes to anything Chloe says.”
Adrien chews on his lower lip, still peeking over the tree trunk as Chloe’s eyes rove around scanning for him before huffing and walking away, still fuming. Adrien slumps in relief, and Marinette only watches quietly as his expression shifts to thinly veiled guilt.
“I feel bad, though. Look, I love Chloe but she can be…”
“Aggravating?” Marinette supplies, and Adrien shrugs.
“I grew up with her, you know? Even if… even if I don’t like the person she is now, that history just doesn’t go away but… her behavior… I don’t know, Marinette.”
Marinette sits beside him, crossing her legs as he runs a hand through his hair.
She gasps quietly as strands of his once-neatly styled hair fall onto his face, reminding her of a certain needy someone whose hair she cards her hands through when he’s sad.
Before she can think things through, Marinette moves in closer and laces her fingers into his tresses. He stiffens, looking at her with wide eyes before essentially melting into her touch, leaning on her shoulder.
“It’s a difficult position to be in.” Marinette says, and Adrien hums in agreement. She hopes he doesn’t feel the slight tremble in her fingers as she massages them across his scalp.
“Any advice for me?”
“Honestly? Being someone’s friend doesn’t mean you have to tolerate their behavior. If her actions hurt someone, including you, you have no obligation to spare her feelings.”
“It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
Marinette nods, murmuring, “No, it really isn’t.”
They both sit in silence, mulling over the strangely heavy implications of their conversation.
Adrien picks at the grass, sinking deeper and deeper into his guilt that Marinette can’t stand it any longer. She stands up abruptly, dusting her pants off, and Adrien looks up at her.
“Well, I have a batch of chocolate chip cookies and a game of Ultimate Mecha Strike III waiting for me at home,” she says, and Adrien droops. “Though it’d definitely be fun if I had someone to wipe the floor with.”
He immediately perks up with a sly smile, but the hint of hopefulness in his eyes makes her chest ache.
“What do you say, Agreste? Are you a chicken or what?” she goads, inwardly cheering as Adrien’s eyes light up with challenge.
“Chicken? Please,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and puffing his chest out. “Maybe you are.”
“Weak comeback,” Marinette teases, and holds a hand out for him to take. He scrambles to stand up before bolting in the direction of the bakery.
“Last one to your house doesn’t get any cookies!” he shouts over his shoulder with a whoop.
“Hey! It’s my house, you cheater!” Marinette cries indignantly, taking off after him.
The glint of mischief in his eye is a familiar one; one that makes her stomach drop and soar all at once, but it’s far better than the dejected look he had on his face a while ago.
~*~
Marinette feels hot tears run down her cheeks, and she shudders. The person gasps, concern radiating off them in waves as they pull back to look at her.
“Marinette,” they say softly, and it only makes her cry harder, “what’s wrong?”
She shakes her head vigorously, and she feels them lean back in, inhaling sharply as they brush their lips against the wet tracks, realizing with a start that they’re kissing her tears away.
Marinette shuts her eyes even tighter, her arms wrapping themselves around her torso as they pull her in closer, and she feels the swift beating of their heart as their chest presses against hers.
“Why are you crying, Marinette?”
“I—I can’t do this anymore,” Marinette whispers with a shaky voice, but their arms around her only tighten, holding her steady, and she doesn’t know whether to be thankful or fight to pull away.
“What can’t you do?”
“This keeps happening. Every night, I see you, and I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re doing this…” Marinette inhales, forcing her voice to sound steady despite her throat closing up.
“And…?” they urge patiently, squeezing her waist in encouragement.
“Who are you?”
~*~
It’s a case of her being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Marinette’s pulse rings in her ears as another explosion rocks the street, sending her stumbling onto the pavement, the sentimonster wreaking havoc in its trail. Screams come from all directions, and Marinette tries to pry herself off the concrete, her bare hands nursing scrapes from the fall.
“My, my, my, what do we have here?” a raspy voice asks from behind her, and her blood turns to ice to find the akuma simpering, eyes flashing with sinister delight.
Shit, shit, shit—
“Wouldn’t you be a lovely piece for my collection?” he says, brandishing his weapon, a silver paintbrush, and Marinette’s brain screams at her to move, but all she can manage is a pathetic lurch backwards, panic freezing her in place.
“Don’t worry, my sweet girl. You will be my Mona Lisa.”
The akuma whips his paintbrush forward, white light forming at the tip, and Marinette thrusts her arms out to shield herself.
She waits for the blow, but it never comes.
Instead, she feels her stomach dip as a warm body hits hers, sweeping her into his arms before bounding away over rooftops with a cursing akuma left in the dust.
Marinette instantly recognizes the leather of her partner’s suit, and senses the tension rolling off him in the stiffness of his shoulders. Still, she wraps her arms around his neck and tries to steady her breathing from the close call.
After what feels like an eternity and a few seconds all at once, they stop abruptly on a rooftop, far away from the wreckage, and Chat gently places Marinette down.
Her legs give out from under her, and she frantically clamps down on his shoulders to steady herself, giving away just how terrified she is.
For a few moments, they stay like that, just holding the other for support, until Chat breaks the silence with an unsteady pant.
“Marinette…” Chat says, hands tightening their hold on her shoulders. She’s never seen him so distressed before, pinpricks of tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
“Chat, I don’t—”
“Promise me you’ll stay safe. I—I can’t—” he says, his voice cracking.
Marinette takes his shaking hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. She places his thumb on the inside of her wrist, ignoring the rapid beat of her pulse as he draws patterns on her skin in an attempt to soothe her and himself.
“I’m okay, kitty. Feel that? That’s my heartbeat, right there.”
“Technically, that’s your pulse,” he quips back half-heartedly, and Marinette feels the pressure in her chest ease a bit. She snorts.
“Same difference.”
“It’s really not.”
“Let’s agree to disagree, Chat.”
“You can’t agree to disagree about biology, Princess,” he says, finally gaining some semblance of composure. He heaves a shaky breath before he stares at her with a look that makes her gut clench—fear, relief, joy, anger all roiling beneath the surface of his green eyes. She shrinks back at the intense gaze, and immediately he pulls her into his embrace, his palm flat against her chest. She feels his tail wrap around her leg, as if every part of him couldn’t bear to not touch her.
“This is your heartbeat,” he breathes into her hair, voice breaking as he feels the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart. He swallows.
“God, I could’ve lost you today.”
“You saved me, Chat. You always do.”
His grip on her tightens, and any space between them vanishes as he holds her like his only lifeline.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done to that akuma if you’d gotten hurt, Marinette,” he says darkly, and Marinette starts trailing her hands on his back, desperate to offer him some comfort. “I saw him corner you, and something in me just snapped, I just… I saw red and thought that if I didn’t make it in time… I would’ve…” he trails off, leaving her to fill in the blanks.
“I’m safe, kitty. That’s all that matters.”
Another explosion sounds in the distance and his leather ears press flat against his head, a growl emitting from his throat.
“You… you have to go.” Marinette tells him, sounding as reluctantly frustrated as he looks.
His expression shows the conflict he feels but Marinette gives him a tiny nod and he gives in with a resigned sigh.
The way his eyes flit over her face, softening as he drinks in all of her features ring alarm bells in her head—comparing it to the way Adrien looks at her when he rains compliments on her, desperately trying to make her believe it.
But that train of thought dissipates from her mind when Chat swoops in and plants a tender kiss on her forehead.
“I’ll come back for you, okay, Princess? Just… stay here.”
He unsheathes and extends his baton, giving her one last pained smile before launching off the side of the rooftop.
Marinette stares at the ledge, red-faced and dumbfounded, for a good minute, until Tikki pinches her and tells her to transform.
Ladybug couldn’t look Chat in the eye the entire battle, and frankly, neither could Marinette after he came back for her.
~*~
“Please, tell me who you are,” Marinette breathes against his collarbone, eyes still stinging from her shed tears. “I can’t bear not knowing any longer.”
For a tense second, they don’t reply, and Marinette’s lungs threaten to cave in on her chest from anxiety. But then they laugh softly, and pull back. She feels soft hands cup her face once more, guiding them to look up at their face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Marinette’s breath hitches, her heartbeat ringing in her ears as they lean in and press butterfly kisses on her eyelids before moving back.
“Look at me, Marinette.”
Everything is going to change, and a shock akin to white hot fear and exhilaration floods Marinette’s entire being.
She’s finally going to know.
Adrien?
Chat Noir?
Adrien.
Chat Noir.
Slowly, Marinette opens her eyes, and sees them for the first time.
He has Adrien’s eyes.
He has Chat’s smile.
He looks at her with the warmest gaze she’d ever seen from him, brimming with adoration and reverence as he leans in and presses his lips against hers.
And suddenly, everything clicks.
~*~
Marinette bolts up, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and tears streaking her face. Her fingers unconsciously travel to her lips, still feeling a whisper of the softness of his.
With her heart thudding against her chest and her blood roaring in her ears, Marinette finally, finally understands what her dreams were trying to tell her all along.
She’s not choosing.
Or rather, she’ll never be able to bring herself to choose.
Because what her heart wants is crystal clear.
Marinette wants Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir to be one and the same, because her heart yearns for them in equal, overwhelming measures.
And nothing will make or break it more than finding out the truth behind the mask.
~*~
She can’t go on like this.
It’s been weeks since she had the revelation, and if anything, it makes her get even more on edge than she already is around them.
She sees pieces of Adrien in Chat and Chat in Adrien everywhere she looks.
Every time Adrien makes a joke or Chat gives her a soft smile, her body physically rejects and reveres it all once; her hairs stand on ends, her stomach can’t decide between whether or not it wants to flutter or squeeze or turn itself inside out, her heart does somersaults in her chest, and her face stays a permanent shade of bright pink with the occasional deep red flush.
Marinette is in hell.
Worst of all, her reactions only seem to spur the boys on more. Their eyes would light up at the sight of it, and somehow make things infinitely worse. Adrien would lean in closer to her until the tips of their noses brush before winking, Chat would tug her into his lap and bury his face into her hair and breathe in her scent; Adrien would grab her knuckles and press a chaste kiss on them before waving goodbye, and Chat Noir would rub the tip of her nose with his before giving her a fond smile before he leaves for the night.
And Marinette thought she would be able to handle it, but with every touch and smile she loses more and more of her composure.
It also doesn’t help that since that eye-opening night, Marinette has felt guilt mounting in her gut, threatening to crush her with every tender interaction—these are two wonderful, caring, devoted boys and here she is, with a torn heart, hoping that they’re one and the same to make things easier for her. It isn’t fair, for either of them, to be set up like that—not for the boy behind Chat’s mask as she sets herself up to be disappointed if it didn’t turn out to be Adrien Agreste, or even Adrien who’s only just beginning to act more freely around them, only to be tempered by Marinette’s expectations of him to act like her superhero partner.
It’s so greedy of her to want them both.
And just for that, Marinette knows she doesn’t deserve either of them.
Which is just as well, too, she supposes bitterly, because even if they were the same person, why in the world would they love her?
Plain, old, clumsy Marinette, who stammers so bad around the boys she’s in love with she can hardly hold a conversation with them, who lets jealousy cloud her judgment and guide her actions towards people who don’t deserve it but can’t bring herself to choose between two boys, who makes problems even worse than before when she tries to fix them, who ruins everything she touches.
No, she thinks bitterly, they wouldn’t love her, and she couldn’t even blame them.
But that doesn’t stop her from wanting them to.
She’s sure this will drive her well and truly insane.
Which is why she isn’t at all surprised that when Chat Noir visits one night and makes a romantic quip with a side-eye, suddenly, everything is all too much and she breaks.
Marinette bursts into tears on-the-spot, the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster and tension from her heart’s conflict finally catching up to her, and she cries, and cries, and cries, covering her face and crumpling to her bedroom floor, curling into a ball as she heaves heart-wrenching sobs.
She feels vile, selfish and disgusting in every possible way.
“Princess, what’s wrong?!” he asks, and in the back of her mind, she notes how panicked he sounds, and it only makes her tears flow faster, her chest shaking as she tries and fails to gasp for breath.
In an instant, Chat sweeps her into his arms and cradles her, burying her face into his chest as he desperately tries to soothe her.
“I’m sorry, Chat, ‘m so sorry—” she hiccups, clutching onto his shoulders, nails digging into the leather of his suit. She feels his panic oozing out of him, but her thoughts are clouded with self-loathing.
“Princess, you did nothing wrong, why are you—"
“Yes, I-I did! I’m se-selfish, and dis-disgusting, and I’m going to hurt you—”
“Princess, you are not—”
“And it’s so unfair of me to ask this of you but I just—” Marinette’s statement is cut off with another pitiful sob, and Chat only looks more alarmed, running his hand through her hair.
“What is it, Marinette? Tell me what I can do, I’ll do it, okay? Please, Princess.”
“Chat. I can’t take it anymore…” she whispers into his collarbone, and he only holds her tighter, waiting for her to finish. Marinette swallows, her voice still garbled with tears as she chokes out her next words.
“Chat, please tell me you’re Adrien Agreste.”
Chat Noir stiffens instantly, and Marinette hears a sharp intake of breath from him. Her heart aches as he pulls away, staring at her with shocked eyes. Looking away, Marinette wipes her face with the back of her hand as he splutters a reply.
“W-why—” he starts, voice high with panic. “Why do you want me to tell you I’m Adrien?”
“Because,” she whispers, dripping with shame, “I’m in love with both of you, and there’s nothing I want more than you two to be the same person.”
There’s a stunned silence that coats the room with that declaration, and Marinette can practically see the gears turning in Chat’s head as he tries to process it, jaw dropped and eyes wide.
Guilt-ridden, Marinette pries Chat’s hold on her, not wanting to see his hurt or disappointment in her. She simply couldn’t bear it. Instead, she sits on her bed, letting her stew in her own shame.
“You should probably g-go—” Marinette says quietly, not looking at him, and that seemingly snaps Chat out of the stupor he’s in. “I know that was way over the line, I understand if you don’t want to come back—”
“Princess.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you and I know—”
“Marinette…”
“—you don’t feel the same way, and it’s unfair to put that pressure on you—”
“Marinette!”
Marinette bolts up, eyes finding his, but instead of the dispirited and disgusted look she anticipated, he looks at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky.
Treacherous hope coils in her chest, her heart stuttering at his smile.
Chat takes a deep breath, and Marinette distinctly knows that whatever he’ll say next will change their relationship for good.
“Princess… Marinette… My name is Adrien Agreste, and I’m in love with you, too.”
Her face crumples, but before he can say anything, Marinette launches herself into his arms, holding onto him like a precious treasure. Her heart is soaring, and she knows nothing, nothing, will ever compare to the joy she’s feeling now.
He laughs breathily, pulling her flush against him, and Marinette peppers his face with kisses, tears and laughter mixing together. Then his lips are pressed against hers as a bright green light flashes in the room, and she feels his warm skin on hers, sending electric sparks in her veins, his heart erratic in his chest as he deepens the kiss, caressing her arms, her waist, her back, her face with soft, loving touches that make her melt. He inhales her scent, and she gets drunk on his, off of cologne, leather and spring rain.
Then they pull apart for air, he looks at her like he never wants to look at anything else again.
“How did you know?”
Marinette feels her face flush, and she gives him a shy smile.
“I… I’ve had dreams about you… both of you. I’ve never felt as safe and loved as I did in them, but I could… I could never tell which of you was it… until I realized I loved you both. I kept seeing Chat in Adrien, and Adrien in Chat. I wanted you to be the same person so badly, to have both of you…”
Adrien smiles softly down at her, and she doesn’t think there’s a more beautiful sight.
“You have me, Marinette,” he says, cupping her face tenderly. Marinette sighs contentedly, eyes fluttering closed. He pulls her in his arms, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, and whispers.
“And you have no idea how badly I’ve dreamed of this, too.”