Chapter Text
There is a world she creates, she knows, a world that is all her own the moment she falls asleep, her head rested comfortably on her big kitty pillow. At her neck, she lays her hands over a charm on a chain–a little black cat to be precise–and whispers for only ghosts to hear her.
“I wish to see my fairy prince tonight.”
The words are honest, sincere words laced with longing, and that fills her heart with affection because she knows it’s true. For what if he is but a dream when he feels so real to her?
So, with her eyes closing shut, soft as a butterfly flutters, and her breath is even–in and out, out and in–slumber claims her.
Because right after the second Marinette closes her eyes, lets go of reality and falls into her own mind, the world explodes with new possibilities.
Now, it’s not a new world, she learned quickly, but the same one she travels in the day. For Paris doesn’t need to change to be magical because the city of love has magic stored in every stone. It thrives in the hearts of the hopeful and in the souls of those who dare to believe in something greater than human understanding.
And in her dream, Marinette opens her eyes, the moon shining through her windows more than enough light to find her way in the darkness. Her room is exactly the same, only bigger now though.
Well, not actually bigger, it is the same size, but that is only because she’s smaller, teeny tiny just like Tikki. However, even in her dream, her kwami sleeps as the other half of Ladybug slips quietly off the large pillow and makes her way to the edge of the bed.
And just like every dream she’s had like this, she drapes her legs over the edge and waits, pulling her sweater close to her and counts the second until the reason why dreaming became desired after all.
However, even in dreams, waiting is abysmal so she flops back on her now too huge bed and closes her eyes for a brief second, hoping that she’ll hear a familiar pair of wings soon enough.
There’s a hand at her hairline, gentle claws weaving through the loose strands as she squirms in her spot.
“C’mon now, Princess,” she hears him say. “I didn’t mean to have you wait this long.”
But Marinette doesn’t open her eyes just yet, her dream body so sleepy and his hand so soothing as it combs through her hair. “No,” she whines and curls up more.
There’s a small laugh, a slight chuckle before a sigh and the next thing she knows, she hears him grunt as he bends down to pick her up.
Marinette’s eyes snap open and she lets out a scream, but he shushes her, his green eyes glinting with panic. “Hush or someone will hear you!”
She giggles, and throws her arms around his neck as the walks them towards the edge of the bed. “Who can hear us, silly Chat Noir? This is all made up.”
He stops for a moment, and she doesn’t see the pensive look on his face. “You’re right, this is just all your dream to you.”
“Mmmhmmm,” she confirms as she rest her head on his shoulder. “But my favorite dream.”
Chat Noir laughs and sets her down, the placement of his hands always polite as she slides to stand on her own two feet. She looks up and his green eyes, green like an electric sea glimmer despite being surrounded by his black mask. She smiles up at him, big and cheeky, and grabs his two hands to hold in her own.
She’s wiggling, almost bouncing with excitement when she asks him. “Can we fly now?”
There’s a cocky smile, a smirk for a moment. “I thought you’d never ask.”
His fingers tighten around hers, a small squeeze as brilliant peridot wings flare out behind him, quick and confidant in their impressiveness with their pure black stripes scared down the length of each fore and hind wings. And it’s totally warranted, his fairy wings that are shaped just like a butterfly, the thin membranes fluttering behind him with little beats.
And from where she stands, Chat Noir looks so unreal, beautiful blond hair, greened eyed, and wearing all black from head to toe.
He looks poisonous, she thinks, but the pretty ones are always dangerous.
However, her thoughts are broken, scattering away like leaves in the wind, when he takes his palm and opens it. It glows, pure magic sitting in his hand, and he blows right over here until it sprinkles like glittering rain drops.
The golden flakes drift down until they cover the tops of her hair, shoulders, nose, every part of her body they can possibly land. They tickle, seeping into her skin, clinging to her as she starts to float higher. There is no way she can stop the biggest grin from making it’s way to her face as floats like a dandelion seed dancing in the air.
Chat Noir grins up at her before beating his powrful wings with ease and lazily drifts until he’s hovering towards her, offering his hand for her to hold.
“Faith, trust, and pixie dust, right Princess?”
Now, Marrinette has flown through Paris, has swung from ledge to ledge and jumped over rooftops at amazing speeds. She’s Ladybug, a superhero who flies without wings, but instead still somehow defies the laws of gravity. She knows what air tastes like when it hits her in the face on cold, cold nights. And she knows how weightless she feels when she free falls a story or two before grappling herself to another building to swing elsewhere.
But swinging and free falling is nothing like flying, in a perpetual state of weightlessness and freedom as she and Chat Noir fly holding hands and discovering all the secrets of Paris.
And Paris isn’t the same either, of course. For everything is enlarged and the things she thought were only pretty are now awe inspiring as she stares up old normal building she’d over look while awake.
“Who knew my parent’s bakery was so beautiful?” she says as the moon shines on it and she’s seeing it for the first time it seems.
Chat laughs and brings them up close to stare at the brick. “You can feel the love cemented in the grout.” He tells her and runs a gloved hand over a brick four times his size. “And love makes everything more beautiful.”
Marinette tugs him back, and the tip of his wing brushes her arm. “Well, I think you’re beautiful.”
“Princess,” he scolds as he turns around to face her, but she can see the blush on his cheeks. “I’m the one who is supposed to give the compliments around here.”
She taps his nose and pulls him higher until they are above a street light. There are slow cricket chirps and the sound of sleep creeping in her dream. “Dance with me?”
A smile quirks at his lips, “I’d love you.” He then bows, one arm tucked under his chest and the other thrown behind him.
When he rises, he takes her hand in his and places one at her waist. Marinette puts her free one at her shoulder, the two of them in a proper waltz now. She lets him lead, lets him carry her higher as they spin in circles on air currents and nighttime breezes.
The full moon shines down on them, highlighting their dance as they laugh and hum music for their dance. His hand slips her back and he pulls her closer, and when Marinette looks through her lashes to peer at him, all she can see is the stars in his smile, life thrumming behind his eyes.
They dance, waltz in a ballroom made with no walls as the stars and the moon as their only witness, Marinette has never felt happier or more alive.
As dreams starts, dreams must also end, Marinette knows.
Chat Noir knows too and like every time before, he guides her back to her bedroom until she is nestled and tucked away on her kitty pillow.
He sits next to her as her eyes sleepiness starts to come over her, petting her hair with a gentle touch. But she doesn’t want to be petted so she tugs him down until he’s laying down next to her, their hands connected like they should never part.
“Stay with me,” she tells him, her heart pounding her chest as she counts the gold dotted in his eyes.
He smiles, small and slightly, sad, but he presses a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m always with you though, Princess.”
She kisses his too and shakes her head. “Stay with me forever,” she amends.
He takes an intake of air and gathers her in his arms until she’s tucked under his chin. “Forever is a long time to dream, you know.”
“But you’re a good dream, Chat.”
His chest rumbles with his laughter and there is a peck at her hairline. “Well, you know what to do to see me again.”
And as her eyes grow heavy, content and warm in her fairy’s hold, her hand slides between them until it rests on her necklace.
“I just got,” she starts with a yawn, “make a wish on my little lucky charm.”
“That’s right,” he affirms, his voice sounding sleepy too. “And I’ll be there before you know it.”
But she doesn’t hear his reply, already sleeping soundly in his arms.