Marichat May is rounding the corner again!!
How have you all been enjoying season 6? We couldn't help wondering if anything from recent episodes has inspired Marichat within you all... This year, we're bringing some season 6 prompts!
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After a failed akumatization, Marinette and Chat Noir are emotionally shattered.
Both are hiding more pain than they let on, but it only takes a moment for them to support each other, trying to pull themselves together and clinging to the one thing that hasn’t been broken yet
I wrote this for @marichatmay 2026
Day one: Heartfixer
Everything felt unreal.
As if what had happened just a few hours ago didn’t belong to her. As if it hadn’t been her. It was a strange, almost alien sensation, like watching from the outside a story that had already ended… a love story that had fallen apart before it even had a chance to exist.
Her memories were broken fragments.
In one, she saw Sublime and Adrien holding hands, announcing their new status as a couple to the world.
In the next… only darkness.
And then, suddenly, Adrien’s lips on hers.
Nothing else.
According to what he had told her later, she had been akumatized. Barely, by sheer miracle, had Adrien managed to restrain her, to hold on to her as he fought against the distorted version she had become. Heartfixer.
She could still see the traces of tears on his face, the silent evidence that he had been holding her, resisting, preventing her from hurting innocents… people she might have known her whole life.
But Marinette didn’t remember that.
She didn’t remember anything.
Only the emptiness.
A heavy, suffocating emptiness that pressed down on her chest and froze her soul. A loneliness so deep it hurt, spreading like ice beneath her skin.
And if she concentrated hard enough, she could feel it…
Traces of that energy coursing through her veins. Dark. Powerful. Even seductive.
A power that rivaled that of her own Miraculous… but infinitely more dangerous.
As Ladybug, that was unforgivable.
If she had hurt someone…
God , if she had hurt Adrien—
She wouldn’t hesitate. She would give up her Miraculous without a second thought.
She couldn’t believe this was already the second time.
The first time… had been different.
She had been saved by a miracle shrouded in black, by her faithful companion: Chat Noir.
That time, during a date that got out of hand, he had stopped her.
That night, without knowing it, Chat Noir had saved Paris from one of the worst possible catastrophes.
Today… it had been Adrien.
But Adrien didn’t have an indestructible suit.
He didn’t have magic to protect him.
He had only had courage.
Things could have gone terribly wrong.
Too wrong.
And part of Marinette—a part she hated to admit—wished it hadn’t been him.
She wished that, instead of a civilian… instead of her boyfriend…
It would have been Chat Noir, who would have been there.
Who would have stopped her.
Who would have saved her.
Tears began to blur her vision before she could stop them. The lump in her throat became unbearable, cutting off her breath, shattering any attempt to stay strong.
And then she fell.
Her knees hit the floor of her room, and her body collapsed with them, as if she finally had nothing left to hold her up.
.
.
.
Breathing in the cool night air always helped him calm down. Ever since he had been chosen as Chat Noir, it had become almost a necessity.
He moved across the rooftops of Paris with light, silent steps, barely a shadow gliding over the sleeping city. No one saw him. No one heard him. And that was how it should be. People rested peacefully inside their homes, oblivious to everything. He hoped it could stay that way for a long, long time.
Lately, those nighttime walks had become his refuge. He’d go out with no particular destination, just to clear his mind, to breathe. The icy air filling his lungs anchored him to reality; the cold biting his cheeks, the tip of his nose numb… they were simple proofs, but enough: he was still there, he was still himself, he still had something to fight for.
Because the doubts… the doubts were always there. Waiting. Lurking in any crack to slip into his mind and fill it with thoughts he couldn’t control. They whispered things to him: that he wasn’t worthy of wielding a power as destructive as the one his ring possessed, that a weapon of destruction like that should never be in his hands, that he didn’t deserve to be loved, that if anyone said they loved him… it was probably just pity. And worst of all: that he had no right to be happy, not after his father’s death.
He could ignore them most of the time. He could. Marinette’s love—her warmth, the way she looked at him, the way she held him even when he didn’t realize he needed it—was enough to silence those voices for days on end. But there were moments… moments when it didn’t matter how hard he tried. Days like this.
The images came back without permission, repeating over and over like a loop impossible to break: Marinette kissing his best friend. He knew it wasn’t real. He knew it had been a trick, a cheap manipulation by the new bullies at school to drive them apart. He knew it… and yet it still hurt. Because it wasn’t just the deception; it was the intention behind it.
Paris’s new enemy wasn’t looking to confront them directly. He didn’t need brute force or spectacular battles. His weapon was something else: breaking them apart. Wearing them down little by little, attacking where they were most vulnerable, playing on the one truth shared by all heroes beneath the mask: they were human. And, without knowing it, this villain had come dangerously close to discovering who one of them was—who Chat Noir really was beneath his mask.
Chat Noir clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if Prim hadn’t recorded that video, if that evidence hadn’t existed, that tiny thread of reality to cling to. If his instincts—honed by the cat’s power—hadn’t warned him that something was wrong, that he had to go back, that he had to find her.
He remembered the moment all too clearly: the walk back, the strange silence in the air, the voices… and then, seeing them. The trio of bullies, chatting calmly with the new butterfly owner. It hadn’t been a coincidence. It never was. It had all been a plan, one meticulously crafted to break the only person in his class who hadn’t fallen yet: Marinette.
But he was late. Too late.
When he appeared, when his feet touched the ground… he saw something none of his nightmares had prepared him for. Marinette was gone. In her place stood Heartfixer: her eyes distorted by pain, her voice broken and alien, saying that since he no longer loved her, she would fix his heart… repair what she had broken, so they could be together again.
And he tried to get his girl back.
From the very beginning, he knew it wouldn’t be Chat Noir who would have to fix that disaster. Not his mask, not his power… but him. Adrien. A mere civilian. Even so, he threw himself into it. He clung to her with everything he had, with a desperation that burned in his chest. And, somehow… he managed it. By sheer luck—or perhaps something more—Heartfixer wasn’t listening to the voice whispering to him from some dark corner of Paris. She was listening to him.
He knew that Marinette could see his tears, that she could hear his voice breaking as he begged her, over and over, to forgive him. That if either of them was broken… they could rebuild themselves together. And then, as if luck itself had decided to smile on him again, as if he’d been blessed by that capricious gem that ruled his destiny… Marinette came back. She returned to his arms.
That moment hadn’t stopped replaying in his mind ever since.
He also remembered how, hours later, she’d pretended to be fine. How she had smiled at him, saying she’d be home, that she’d see him the next day to start a new morning together. And he responded with the same enthusiasm, with the same ease with which he’d learned to lie in front of a camera. He let that perfect smile—rehearsed, flawless—form on his face. That smile he didn’t feel.
He knew Marinette could tell the difference. It wasn’t a smile. It was a grimace. Maybe that’s why she didn’t say anything. Maybe she decided to let it slide. And he… couldn’t be more grateful. They’d talk about it later. They had time. Right?
His footsteps guided him without him noticing, as if his body knew the way before his mind did. They led him to the place where he had been happiest: the bakery. Dark, silent, closed. Of course… it was one in the morning. It would be strange for any shop to be open at that hour.
Even so, he didn’t hesitate. He landed softly on the roof, right above Marinette’s room. Everything seemed calm. Maybe she was already asleep. It would be a miracle, considering the whirlwind that his girl was. But something didn’t feel right. Something in his chest tightened. He needed to know. To know if she was truly resting… or if, like him, she was fighting against thoughts that wouldn’t leave her alone.
Then he heard it.
A sob. Low. Stifled. Broken.
And that was enough. On pure instinct, Chat Noir slipped through the skylight, landing silently inside the room. And there he saw her. In the center of the room, hugging her knees, completely curled up into a ball… crying silently, trying not to make a sound, as if even her pain had to be small so as not to wake her parents sleeping downstairs.
Instinctively, and with his heart breaking into pieces, Chat approached Marinette and wrapped his arms around her.
She tensed at first, startled by the sudden touch. She looked up for just a second… and saw it. Those feline pupils, usually bright, now looked dull, lifeless, filled with something he could barely contain. Sadness. Pain. Guilt. As if Chat were about to break as well.
And he was.
It all happened in an instant.
Because as soon as she recognized him, Marinette said nothing. She didn’t ask. She didn’t hesitate. She simply took refuge in him, burying her face against his chest, as if his suit could muffle the sound of her voice as it broke. But it didn’t work. The crying came out just the same, louder, rawer, more real.
Chat felt her clinging to him, with a strength that went beyond what had happened that afternoon.
Deep down, he knew. It wasn’t just that.
There was more. Much more.
Things that hadn’t been said yet, that weighed between them, that trembled with every ragged breath Marinette took. But he… he couldn’t ask for them. Not now. Not when Chat could barely hold her without breaking himself in the process.
So he stayed.
Gently sliding his hand down her back, tracing slow, steady circles, as if he could calm her with that simple gesture. He whispered to her that everything would be okay, that she was safe, that nothing was wrong… even though he didn’t quite believe it himself.
His voice gave him away. It sounded fake. Fragile. Choked.
He didn’t realize when he started crying too.
He only knew that suddenly he was holding her tighter, as if he feared she would disappear if he let go. That he had buried his face in Marinette’s neck, breathing in her scent, clinging to her as if she were one of the few people left to him, giving him the oxygen to keep on living.
And so they spent a while like that, listening to each other, feeling each other, breaking apart and putting themselves back together.
