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“I saw you standing there
Sandy blonde hair, the way it came tumbling down
Just like a waterfall
And if you need a light
I'll be the match to your candle
My darling, I'm ready, to burst into flames for you.”— vance joy, i’m with you.
17.
Tikki floats overhead, handing Marinette more light as she watches her holder decorate her balcony in the spirit of the Holiday season. Marinette is over joyed —she hadn’t gotten to decorate last year, what with the influx of akumas that has sprouted around the season. This year, however, luck is on her lady’s side. Or so Marinette thinks, right up until the ladder wobbles under her as she reaches to hang the lights on the highest corner of the balcony. Tikki starts to cry out her name, then goes uncharacteristically silent as Marinette braces for impact.
Impact never comes. Instead Marinette falls into strong arms that cradle her gently against a chest covered in fabric she can’t identify. Really, the only thing she’s ever felt that matches it in quality and uniqueness is her Ladybug suit, and—
Marinette looks up to find Chat Noir watching her. Of course. “Purr-fect timing, don’t you agree, mon cheri?” He gives her a winning smile. She’s close enough to see the exact moment when the dimples of his cheeks form, and when they disappear.
“Yes,” Marinette agrees as she slips out of his arms, “You always know exactly the right time to show up and annoy the shit out of me.” She smiles sweetly at him, tapping her finger against his nose and picking up her half-strung lights.
Chat Noir pouts. Marinette catches sight of the smallest pimple on his temple, almost completely obscured by his hair. In passing, she notes how Adrien has a similar one. “Y’know, every day I wake up and think of how much easier my life would be if I didn’t insist on loving you.”
Marinette raises her brows at him. “You’d be so bored without me.”
“Is this your way of saying thank you?”
“No.” Marinette reaches behind her, to the table she has set up on her balcony, and grabs a cookie, stuffing it in Chat’s mouth. “This is.”
He beams, eyes glowing underneath the Parisian winter. Marinette smiles back, handing him the lights and watching as he pins them to her roof with the ease of someone who is three inches taller than her. Her friend looks like an inky streak against the night sky, the only thing marking him as semi-human his pale skin and blond hair. Chat Noir finishes with her lights and flips off the ladder, landing gracefully in front of her before falling back into her chair most unceremoniously.
He looks around, taking in the decorations on her balcony. “This looks really great, Marinette. You popped off.”
She grins. “Thanks! I didn’t get to decorate last year, so I’m glad to do it this year.”
“Lots of akuma attacks last year.” Chat nods gravely. “I’m sorry about that.”
Marinette reaches out to wipe the grief off his face, hating the way it makes him look so small. “It’s history.” She ruffles his hair. “What’s important now is that you’re here, with me.”
“We’re inevitable, Mari. I’ll always be here.” Chat looks up at her with that gentle look he saves for only her and her alter ego, the one that she thinks could move mountains. And by God, Marinette believes him.
She says, “I know,” and means it.
…
That night, after he leaves and Marinette is left feeling cold in his absence, she realizes he’s been visiting her for almost a year. The realization shocks her. Marinette’s entire body tingles, the way one’s foot or hand does after being asleep. Chat Noir had snuck upon her so quietly, Marinette hadn’t even had to force room for him in her heart.
“Does that bother you?” Tikki asks, next to Marinette on their pillow.
“Yes.” She says. “I feel guilty for lying to him.” Then she swallows, heavy and final. “But also no. He’s my best friend, same as Alya. It has to be this way… for now.”
Tikki looks pensive. “After Hawk Moth is defeated?”
Marinette sighs. “After Hawk Moth is defeated… yeah.” She yawns. Tikki watches her fall asleep within minutes. She lays awake for a long time after, thinking. She misses Plagg.
18.
Chat Noir is waiting for Marinette when she gets home. She sees him on her balcony, staring out at the city. His hair is the longest she’s ever seen it, down to his shoulders and tied back in a ponytail. Taking a breath, Marinette steps into the bakery with her books in her arms. Her parents greet her with hugs and kisses. “How was your day?” They ask. Marinette smiles, tells them little stories. Tom plants a bag on top of her books as she finally manages to skirt past them. “He came in asking about you. We told him he could wait upstairs.”
Marinette nods, suddenly mute. “I—okay,” She manages. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom.”
They smile at her. She cements this moment to memory and climbs upstairs, putting her books down and picking up the bag as she ascends the steps to the balcony. His ears twitch as she steps out, still watching the city from her vantage point. “Hey, Mari.” He says. “Your parents said I could wait for you up here.”
“You came in through the front door.” Marinette bumps shoulders with him. “It must be serious, then.” Chat throws her a kind smile.
“I’m always serious about you.” He entwines their arms. “You haven’t noticed by now?”
“What I’ve noticed,” Marinette says, pulling them away from the balcony, “Is that you flirt when you’re feeling vulnerable.”
“You’re saying I always feel vulnerable?”
Marinette feigns shock, gasping. “He’s becoming self aware.”
This gets a genuine laugh out of him. Marinette pulls him into her room and away from prying eyes. It’s early spring, and people love to talk. Textbooks line her desk, floor, and bed, competing for space between her designs. In the far corner, video games are stacked, sadly collecting dust —finals season has left little time for fun. Marinette motions towards her bed. Chat collapses onto the ground and rests his back against the frame of it, attempting to pull her down with him. She shakes free, handing him the bag she’d managed to keep hold of and moving to get them both water. “What ails you, Chat?”
“Who says something ails me?” Chat challenges. “Maybe I just missed my homegirl.”
She hands him a bottle of water and squats so they’re eye level. He has a pastry in his left hand and is looking anywhere but her. Marinette flexes her right hand and reaches out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just me, Chat.” She doesn’t add the you can trust me. He already knows.
It’s like a dam breaks. Chat meets her eyes and everything pours out —the argument he’s had with his father, the sickening feeling that there is something sinister going on at home that he doesn’t know about, the push for Chat to take the next step of his life in exactly the direction his family wants. It’s what’s best is a phrase what Marinette has heard Chat quote numerous of times, and now Chat wields it like it draws blood. He’s stress eating, too, downing pastry after pastry. Soon his water is gone, and Marinette hands him hers. He takes it without even realizing he’s done so.
In these moments, Marinette can hardly keep her resolve to not tell him who she is to him, in every aspect. He’s lovely here, in spite of the sorrow he wears like a jacket, sharp edges softened by the pastel lights of her room, his soul laid bare for her to examine. Every time she does, Marinette finds radiance. Her best friend might represent destruction, but he brings new life in its wake. One cannot exist without the other.
As he nears the end of his rant, Chat begins to play with the end of his ponytail, a nervous habit he’s picked up as of late. Marinette takes a breath and has to stop the large part of her personality that is so clearly a fixer. Once she wrestles it down, she says, “Do you want advice, or do you just want to sit here for a bit?”
It was Luka who taught her the difference, and how each was crucial in its own right. Now, as Chat stills at the question, Marinette sends one of a thousand past and future thank yous to the young man the world doesn’t deserve. “I… already know what I have to do.” Chat eventually says. Every part of his body holds a tragic sort of finality, but his voice is even. “So if you could just be with me, that would be really, really great.”
Marinette nudges his shoulder, whipping her phone out to watch TikToks with him and pass the time. “You should know by now, you don’t need to ask me to be with you.” It isn’t until later that she registers the double meaning to her words. Right now, there is just Chat, looking at her like she grows stars.
He says, “I did miss you, y’know. I always do.”
Marinette smiles. She knows.
19.
Life changes quickly. Marinette’s always known this, but the last year has cemented that in a way that’s hard to ignore. Half her friends have moved away, the other half dispersed across the city in a manner that makes it near impossible to see them. Her own schedule is so packed that she rarely sees her parents and only sees Alya because they live together. University, a part time job, and hero-work are not for those who value their free time. This is another thing that the last year has cemented into her, and she feels the constant fatigue deep in the back of her eyelids.
Another thing the year has cemented into her is the constant of Chat Noir. Tonight is one of those reminders of just how present he is, how dear and dangerously necessary Marinette finds him. She’s just placed her bag on the desk in her room, Tikki making a bee line for the bed, when she looks out the window. If Marinette wasn’t used to spotting him, she’d have mistaken Chat Noir for a shadow in the night. The muscles along his back ripple as he flexes his shoulders, his suit flexing with him like the second skin it is. Throughout the years, it’s gotten a little more breathable, but it still hugs his body in all the right places.
Marinette doesn’t mind. As she’s gotten older, she’s realized life is too fleeting to deny herself simple pleasures. She runs her gaze along the expanse of his back as she slides the window open, breathing in the night air she’d just escaped. It smells lighter with him around. “I haven’t seen you in months,” Marinette says, by way of greeting. She means to sound chastising, but instead she just sounds happy to see him. And this is, of course, a lie —Marinette sees him every week for patrols and every time there’s an akuma attack. But the relationship is different in those instances. More and less intimate all at once. She climbs out of her window and onto the roof, pressing herself against his side for warmth.
He raises a displeased brow at her. “You didn’t give me your new address.” Chat Noir retorts, but he wraps an arm around her anyway.
“I knew you’d find me.” She smiles up at him. He looks serious for one hairsbreadth of a moment, before a soft smile shines upon her, the full moon and its surrounding stars to her otherwise dreary night.
He rolls his eyes, “Oh, yeah? You think I’m that obsessed with you, do you? That I’ll do anything to track you down?”
Marinette shrugs airily. “We’re inseparable, you and I.”
“Just a little inevitable.” Chat Noir agrees, and Marinette isn’t sure if he’s humoring her or serious.
“I told my parents to give you my new address as soon as you came asking.” Marinette says, pointedly not looking at him. “So either you swung by and got it and didn’t visit me til now, or you just now went to get it from them.” There is a silent question in the air, tied to a string that Chat Noir picks up and follows all the way to her.
“You have a funny way of getting the truth from me,” Chat admits. Marinette has noticed. It’s one of the reasons she’s never asked him to tell her who he is. “I knew as soon as I saw you I’d crack, and I wasn’t ready.” She waits, because Marinette gets the sense he is ready now. “Do you remember all those months ago, when I told you I knew what I had to do when it came to my family?” His arms tighten around her. She nods into him. “Yeah. I handled that. I cut ties with my old man and moved out a couple weeks ago. I just got a new job, too.”
“Ah.” Marinette nods again. “If you want to talk…” He hums, but doesn’t respond, staring across the street. There is a billboard of Adrien Agreste, smoldering and devastatingly handsome. She hasn’t seen her friend in months. He’s one of the ones who’s schedule just didn’t mesh with hers anymore. Suddenly feeling heavy, Marinette scrambles for a subject change. “Where’s Ladybug tonight?” She cranes her neck to see his face.
Chat Noir blinks out into the darkness, his face changing expressions too quickly for her to catch, seeing things she won’t ever be able to make out. “Resting, I hope. She deserves it.”
Marinette shakes her head. “You deserve it, too.”
And then he smiles at her again, gentle and reverent. “I couldn’t rest until I saw you.” She scoffs. Chat shrugs, too tired to be nothing but honest. “I missed my homegirl. Am I not allowed to miss my homegirl?”
“You are, and you should. I’m awesome.” She winks and gets to her feet. “Come inside. It’s cold out here.”
And so he does. They lose themselves in shitty television and snacks, in easy conversation and familiarity. In the midst of it all, They fall asleep on her bed; when Marinette wakes up, he’s gone, and all that’s left is a thank you note with a black cat doodled on it.
20.
Two weeks after Marinette’s 20th birthday, Chat calls Ladybug for a meeting in the late hours of the night. Their meeting point is very close to Marinette’s apartment —in fact, Chat sits facing it, as if her empty room is comfort to him. Ladybug ignores the fact that only she, out of the two of them, knows it’s empty. She watches him fiddle with the collar of his neck. The bell that used to hang around it is gone, replaced by green thread that curls in the shape of his old accessory and then disappears down his rib cage. She knows him well by now, and she knows the way he holds himself, too rigid, too perfect, is a sign she should be alarmed. “What’s wrong?” Ladybug asks, settling next to him.
He doesn’t deny that something is wrong, just continues staring in the direction of her home. He nods towards her apartment. “I have a friend who lives over there.” He says. “I’ve known her since we were sixteen. Almost as long as I’ve known you.” Chat smiles. Ladybug pretends she doesn’t feel the way her body goes dizzy at the way his tone drips with adoration when mentioning her. “I have three really close friends, you know that?” He glances at her. “She’s one of them.” His look turns teasing, “Even gives you a run for your money sometimes.”
Ladybug scoffs. “I have competition, do I?”
Chat ruffles her hair. “Mar—” He stops, corrects himself. “My homegirl doesn’t compete. Neither do you.” He tears his gaze away from her. “I think of her a lot when I think about why I still put this suit on. She deserves a good city, the opportunity to pursue life without fear of an evil dipshit ruining that. She’s put up with me for so long. She deserves that bare minimum.” Chat swallows. Ladybug stops herself from watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. “I’m going to tell you something. Two somethings, actually. You won’t believe the first one, but you will once I tell you the second one.” Chat places a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to promise not to freak out.”
Ladybug doesn’t hesitate. She can’t, not after everything he’s said about her. Her head is still spinning. “I promise.”
He tilts his head, deliberating. Finally, his shoulders sag. The words tumble out and are snatched by the wind, coaxing its way into her lungs and settling into her blood heavily. “Gabriel Agreste is Hawk Moth.” Ladybug stifles her reaction, tamping it down like she promised. Inside, though, she feels like she’s on fire —Adrien’s father, the supervillain she’s been fighting for four years? No, no one related to Adrien could be so cruel. She might not speak to her old friend and first love anymore, but she knows that much. His son is good. Gabriel couldn’t be any different. “I know he is, because I’ve been watching him for the last two and a half years. I’ve noticed how the akumas disappear when he’s out of the city. They reappear across the globe when he’s also mysteriously there, too. There’s a reason he’s got the tightest security in Europe. It’s even tighter than the Queen of England’s or the Louvre’s.” Chat puts his other hand on Ladybug’s other shoulder and shakes her gently. “Why, Ladybug? Have you ever wondered why?”
“I…” Ladybug shakes her head, blinking rapidly. “He’s paranoid? He lost his wife, he probably didn’t want to lose his son too.”
Chat releases her, looking bitter. “Yeah. I always thought the same thing. Misplaced love for his son. Nah, though. I don’t think he ever really gave a shit about his son. Just his wife.”
“How are you so sure?” Ladybug asks, careful to keep her tone neutral. “Just because akuma attacks coincide with his visits, it could be just that —coincidence.”
Chat spends another second considering her. He looks up at the dim stars and seems to utter a prayer. “I’m his son.”
Her world stands still. Disbelief floods her nervous system, but her lungs are full of heavy understanding. Of course the man she came to love is the same boy who she spent years trying to claim. It would be her luck. She squints, staring at him through the mask, and Ladybug can’t deny it now. She sees it, behind the all-green eyes. Chat and Adrien had grown their hair out around the same time, and now, they both have it cut short and tight. They had the same pimples at the same time, shared the same dimples, and one appeared as soon as the other disappeared. And their smile. Always kind, always a little cocky. “Of course you are.” Ladybug says, sounding less breathless than she actually is. “This makes sense.” She can’t even find it in herself to be angry at him for dumping his identity onto her.
“I know I just broke Rule Number One.” Adrien looks so remorseful that Ladybug can only feel sad. “But I had to. I knew it was the only way you’d believe me. And it’s the only way we’re going to win this fight against Hawk Moth.”
Resignation settles in Ladybug’s bones, deep and heavy. She pushes away the shock she feels, allowing it to wait for when she’s in her room. She silences the urge to tell him who she is in return, the way her body sways towards him like sunflowers in the sun now that she knows she has loved every form of him twice over. “… Okay, Chat.” She smiles, reassuring. “Okay, Adrien. Tell me your plan.”
And so he does. Ladybug ignores the way he looks at her apartment every few minutes, with the same look on his face she used to give him when they were kids.
…
Marinette has just crawled into bed when Chat knocks on her window. He’s painted by dawn, a pretty snapshot she could’ve dreamed up. She isn’t surprised to see him. Marinette gets out of bed and pushes the window open, pulling him inside. “We’re going to bed.” She says. They’re tired. He doesn’t know it, but she doesn’t want to be alone, either.
“Are we?” He asks, his tone teasing despite how stressed she knows he is.
Marinette nods. She locks her door and draws the curtains, pulling her sleeping mask over her face after she crawls into bed. “You can de-transform.”
He draws a breath sharply. “Mari, I do—”
“You don’t what?” Marinette doesn’t move, her tone gentle with sleep and understanding. “It’s just me, Chat.”
A beat passes. He releases Plagg with a soft whisper, Plagg disappearing to where Tikki sleeps when Chat comes to visit. Marinette always thought she’d feel like all the butterflies in the world had settled in her belly if Adrien ever held her, but instead all she feels is the overwhelming sensation of peace. In retrospect, she’d always felt this way when she was with Chat. She was talking to the unfiltered version of Adrien, after all. She knew him inside and out, and he, her. It made perfect sense. They were a pretty type of inevitability.
“I knew you were obsessed with me.” Marinette teases. He groans into her, pulling her closer to him.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you we’re inevitable before you believe me.” His voice tickles her neck, shooting down her body and then up again, reminding Marinette she’s always been absolutely fucking whipped when it came to him.
When Marinette falls asleep, Adrien is holding her to his chest, his lips curled against her hair and his breathing in time with hers.
They sleep well.
3 Weeks Later.
In the end, the defeat of Hawk Moth is startlingly anticlimactic. They use Gabriel Agreste’s love of control against him. Adrien hasn’t spoken to his father since he moved out and cut ties with the man, over a year ago. So of course, when Adrien reaches out to “make amends,” Gabriel wants the night to go perfect. Everything is planned meticulously, a spreadsheet a mile long serving as Paris’ Protectors’ guide for how to perfectly fuck up everything.
Marinette gets hired as a maid a week before Adrien reaches out to his father, and the night the dinner is scheduled, she never leaves after her shift. She has yet to tell Adrien who she is, and so she hides herself from him after he makes it into his father's house. Rena Rouge comes out of retirement, ensuring security reports back that everything is perfectly normal. Ladybug takes out the entire staff in one breath, silencing them to secrecy and watching them flee the Agreste house as fast as they can. Then, she calls on her lucky charm, surprised to find two sets of handcuffs.
Through the doors that lead to the dining room, Ladybug hears a clatter and then Adrien’s shout. “I’m so sorry, Father!” She smiles. “I’m so clumsy, God. I can’t believe I spilled my soup all over you on our first dinner together in… ever.”
“I… It’s okay.” Gabriel’s voice rings clear. “Natalie, go get me another outfit ready, please.” His assistance’s response is short and clipped. Natalie’s barely made it through the doors before Ladybug has her handcuffed and a rag is stuffed in her mouth.
“What is that?” She hears Adrien ask. “I didn’t know you wore brooches. They look cool. Can I see them?”
“No!” Gabriel’s voice thunders. “Absolutely not.”
“Whoa. Don’t talk to me like that.” Adrien’s voice is just as thunderous. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to see them. What are they?”
Gabriel struggles to answer. She hears the clatter of silverware. “Your mother gave them to me.”
Ladybug flinches. Peaking through the kitchen doors, she notes the way Adrien doesn’t bother to conceal his cold rage and desperately prays that one day he will be able to find out if that was another lie or not. Now, though, she slices the moment clean in half, walking through the doors of the kitchen and cleanly snapping the handcuffs around Gabriel’s wrists, just in time for the police to come knocking on the front doors of the mansion. He stares up at Ladybug with a look of pure, clean, unadultured shock. She resists the urge to punch him.
Adrien doesn’t. He punches his father clean across the right cheek, Gabriel’s entire face snapping in the direction of the movement and the sagging, face red and angry. Marinette recognizes at once that his nose has broken. She doesn’t ever think she’ll forget the look on both of the Agresete men’s faces as Adrien calmly removes the brooches from his father’s chest, cleaning them on his jeans. Marinette can see clearly now that Adrien is definitely related to Gabriel —they wear the same look of heartbreak and betrayal on their faces.
…
Marinette is still Ladybug when Adrien crashes into her apartment, the city awash in crackling energy from the news that the world-renowned fashion designer Gabriel Agreste has been revealed to be Hawk Moth. “Mari, have you seen the news?” He asks, catching his breath. It would seem he ran to her as soon as she and he had finished their interviews for the news. This makes sense; Ladybug had left Chat without so much as a goodbye. She had to beat him here.
“No.” Marinette responds, just as Chat looks up and stumbles backwards in open surprise. “But I was there, so I have a pretty good idea of what happened.”
“LB!” Chat struggles to compose himself. “What are you doing here? Where’s Marinette?” He looks around, as if Marinette could be hiding in the walls.
Marinette fixes Chat with an even stare. “C’mon, Kitty. You’re smarter than that.”
Realization dawns on Adrien’s face, looking much like the sun rising over their city. Slowly, he remembers how to form words. “You’ve… got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Now you know how I felt.” Marinette smirks. She releases her transformation in one smooth breath, Adrien following her lead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was better to keep the risks to a minimum until after your -er, I mean, until after Hawk Moth’s arrest. I understand if you’re angry.”
Adrien shakes his head, looking at her in a fashion she can only describe as smitten. “LB, I found out my father’s secret identity is the supervillain we’ve been fighting since we were sixteen. Sure, I’m a little salty I had to wait so long to find out, but… Finding out that my partner and the girl I fell in love with are the same person is definitely a good thing in comparison.” He reaches out a hand, hesitant at first, but then Adrien rushes forward, both arms coming up to cup her cheeks. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, a sigh of relief tumbling out of him. “This is real.” He says, more to himself than to her.
“Alya already gave me the Fox Miraculous back, so, yes.” Marinette attempts a joke, but her voice is too quiet. “It was always gonna be us, huh?”
“We’re inevitable.” He says. He’s said it so many times before, but now Marinette has the bravery to admit he was right the whole time. Marinette takes his right hand away from her cheek and kisses his knuckles.
“I love you too.” She says.
A pretty blush blooms across his cheeks, matching hers. She watches Adrien smirk slowly. Marinette is irritated by how attractive she finds the expression. “Yeah, the last four years of pining looks and totally platonic cuddling definitely didn’t give it away.”
“I take it back.” Marinette cries out. “I hate you.”
Adrien kisses her, long and sweet and so full of tranquility Marinette finds breathing is secondary compared to her devotion to him. “That would be a shame,” He whispers when they break apart, “Because I just found out I really like kissing you.”
Silence blankets her room, somewhere between holy and human. They’re leaning in for another kiss when Plagg’s voice breaks it, Tikki shushing him even as he speaks.
“Disgusting,” He says, Tikki attempting to slap a paw over his mouth. “Get a room!”
21.
The breeze is strong up here, chilling right down to her marrow and causing a slow type of hunger to pool at her belly, spreading from her scalp to the tips of her toenails. Here, the air is thin and she can see her life spread before her, the expanse of it wrapped in the type of beauty only a fleeting human life can accomplish. Here, she can see every light in Paris and they flicker like stars, glued to the earth in begrudging respect.
Her yo-yo, which she’d engineered into a hammock (she’s a genius), whistles with the wind, but the string has earned her trust long ago –she doesn’t even flinch at the vibrations that run through it. Instead her focus runs from her city below to the pad and pencil in front of her, quickly becoming filled with sketches and designs that were not there half an hour ago. Inspiration is not hard to come by for Marinette, but the all encompassing, soul wrenching level of muse she finds from watching Paris from the very top of the eiffel tower sure is. She’s only ever felt this moved by a muse one other time in her life.
He comes to her like he knows he’s on her mind. Marinette senses him before she sees him, not even fighting the smile that works its way onto her face as she cranes her neck up to see Chat dangling from the wrought-iron. He settles himself gingerly on her hammock with one hand, the other hand holding a bag full of sandwiches and a thermos. “Well, hey there.” Marinette says, her smile unhindered and beatific against the cold breeze and rising sun. “Nice of you to drop in.” He looks beautiful, bathed in the light of the sunrise, his hair freshly cut and his cheeks red from the wind.
Adrien’s eyes soften impossibly so, the way they always do when he looks at her –like after all these years, he still can’t believe she’s real. Then he slides forward, too far, too fast, right into her personal space. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, but he’s laughing. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I bet you’re the partner my kwami told me about. I’m Ladybug. And you are?” She raises an eyebrow at him, challenging his memory.
Adrien falls on top of her lap, catching her notepad with one hand to keep it from falling. “I’m madly clumsy,” he laments, quoting their first meeting perfectly. The line stands in stark contrast to how easily he caught her notepad. He reaches up and caresses her left cheek. “I brought dinner.” He grins, motioning to the bag of sandwiches and the thermos that are squished between them.
“I see that.” Marinette runs her fingers through his hair. “But right now, I’m more interested in this meal than the one you brought.”
She swoops down and kisses him languidly. Time passes slowly between the two of them, the sun finally breaking through to their side of the earth by the time they part. When she opens her eyes to gaze at him, she finds her own ardent adoration staring back at her in large green ones.
Inevitability, Marinette knows, will never be sweeter than it is with him.
“This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes
Silence in the ears, darkness of the mind.”— frank ocean, godspeed.