This ended up more Adrinette than Marichat but still. Wow. I'm done. I can’t believe I actually finished a thing. Amazing.
I still need prompts/ideas for Alyanette April!
Rating: G
Words: 1280
Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | AO3
Marinette’s positive she ruined everything. She’d lied to her best friend, her partner, the boy she loved, and she’d ruined everything.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chat doesn’t show up on her balcony for two full weeks. Marinette can’t decide if the lack of Akuma in that time span is lucky or not. She’s not sure at all how she could look her partner in the face, after she’d so dramatically revealed herself.
He’s probably angry, and she can’t blame him. She’d let him think she was two separate people all summer, had continued to shut down his flirtations as Ladybug, then turned around and kissed him as Marinette.
After that Akuma fight (an aggravated construction worker calling himself Boa Constructor) she’d run. She’d turned away from Chat Noir as he picked himself off the floor, and she’d run. She more than half expected to hear him behind her as she zipped as fast as she could for home, as she dropped heavily onto her balcony just as her transformation dissolved. But when she turned around there was no sign of him.
Now, two Saturdays later, she’s positive she ruined everything. She’d lied to her best friend, her partner, the boy she loved, and she’d ruined everything. She doesn’t check her balcony anymore, she’d stopped leaving out cookies when they only attracted pigeons.
After being reduced to tears when a design just wouldn’t cooperate with her, she ends up taking out her frustration on computer-controlled opponents on MechaStrike III. She’s turned the volume up as high as she can without disturbing her parents, and she’s completely blind to the world around her when Tikki suddenly zooms up in her face.
Marinette yelps, arms locking out straight against her desk and knocking her chair over backwards. “Tikki, was that really necessary?” she asks from the floor, one leg caught over the tipped over seat. There’s a dull blooping noise as the computer takes advantage of her robot’s sudden lethargy and smashes it to pieces. “Look, you made me lose.”
Tikki wrings her tiny hands, looking unsure, and Marinette immediately feels bad for her outburst. “I know it must be important, so—“
Her Kwami’s eyes flicker up towards the trapdoor above her loft, and Marinette’s mouth goes dry. “Thanks, Tikki,” she breathes, rolling to her feet and pounding up the ladder.
She flings the door open with more force than really necessary, getting herself a face-full of late summer rain, and spills out onto her balcony as she trips over her own feet. Strong arms catch her, apparently more instinctive than anything else, then he lets go as if burned. She steps back hurriedly, avoiding looking at him as she curls protectively into herself. “Hey, Chaton.”
He lets out a brittle laugh. “Hello, my Lady.”
She flinches at the nickname, looks up at him, and gasps. “Chaton, how long have you been out here?” He’s soaked, hair plastered to his head and his tail trailing miserably in a puddle.
She doesn’t think, just reaches for him with one hand and for her door with the other. “Come inside, you’re going to make yourself sick!”
He obeys without resistance, carefully avoiding her bed as he drops down into her room. She turns away, heading for the ladder and her bathroom, and freezes when a hand lands on her shoulder.
“Wait.” He almost whispers it, and she breaks. She turns around with a gasp and launches herself at him, catching him tight around his middle and sending both of them staggering backwards. His arms come up around her and she ignores the cold water dripping down the side of her neck because he’s wonderfully solid against her, breath sobbing in his chest and hot over her hair.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I should have, I was just…scared.”
He squeezes her tighter, forcing a squeak from her throat. “I-I think I understand,” he murmurs.
Completely unexpectedly she feels a familiar tingling running up her front, from where her thighs are pressed against his up to her hands clench tight between his shoulder blades, and only then does she realize what’s happening. She clamps her eyes shut. “Kitty, wait—“
His nervous chuckle shakes against her chest, and he leans back a bit. “I should’ve told you too but I—Marinette?”
She further scrunches up her face, pulling him back in to bury her nose in the hollow of his throat. “Chaton, you don’t have too—I showed you because I was ready. You don’t owe me.”
His arms go slack around her shoulders, and unexpectedly he laughs. Laughs full and hard and long and strangely familiar.
She resists the urge to nip the skin against her lips. “What’s so funny?”
“You—you didn’t—I had this whole scene planned out and you wouldn’t look at me.” He pushes against her shoulders, forcing her away from his jumping pulse, and cups her cheeks in his hands (was his skin this soft before? She can’t remember). “Marinette, I want you to see.”
She bites her lip, trying to ground on the pain, stop the trembling that shakes her to the core.
“I don’t feel forced. I’ve wanted to tell you. Please?”
Hesitantly she squints open one eye—and yelps. “You’ve—I—Adrien?”
He ducks his head, smiles sheepishly. “Hi.”
She stares at him for long moments, gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips to his drenched hair, and suddenly breaks into hysterics.
“Princess?”
He sounds so concerned as she folds over, unsure herself whether she’s laughing or crying. “Marinette, what—“
“We…are…so…stupid,” she gasps out, tipping slowly over until she’s curled on her side on her bed, tears leaking between her lashes. “I was feeling so guilty for betraying Adrien, even though I couldn’t get a coherent sentence out around him—you—“
He stays quiet, apparently unsure what to do, and finally she recovers, muscles slowly slackening until she’s lying limp, staring into space. “I can’t believe how stupid we’ve been.”
He crouches down in front of her, and she’s struck by how simultaneously similar and different his personas are. Adrien moves with significantly more control than Chat, contained and subtle, but the pose itself is so very Chat-like. He reaches out hesitantly, and she laces her fingers through his. “Plagg has been telling me that for the past two weeks. He actually volunteered to transform to come see you tonight.”
“Only because I couldn’t take any more pining,” the same little voice from before complains, and Marinette jumps. Craning her head, she can see the little black sprite perched on the head of her cat pillow, the flash of tiny teeth as he yawns. “Boring. Ladybug, do you have any cheese?”
She breaks into giggles as Adrien hisses, “Plagg not now. You’re the worst.”
Plagg makes a disgruntled sound and zooms off under the loft to find Tikki, and Marinette stuffs her fingers in her mouth to muffle her laughter.
Adrien’s gaze moves from her face to their intertwined hands, then he suddenly tips forward to push his head against her fingers. “Missed you.”
Her heart jumps at the achingly familiar gesture. She frees herself from his grasp to bury her fingers in his hair. “Come here, Chaton.”
She suddenly has a lap-full of teenage boy, arms tight around her chest, face pressed into her neck, and she sighs contentedly. Then a distinct vibration rumbles into life beneath her hands, and she looks down at him in surprise.
He seems oblivious, snuggling closer, and she laughs delightedly. “I can’t believe you still purr!”
The noise sputters to a stop and his head jolts up, expression mortified, and she takes advantage to lean forward for a kiss. He meets her halfway, a feline noise of contentment lost between their lips, and Marinette smiles.
*quietly sliiides 'identity reveal' tag onto my fic*
Rating: G
Words: 713
Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | AO3 | Day 7
Even superheroes need help sometimes.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chat Noir hadn’t ever given much thought to how he might die. His father hadn’t managed to instill enough paranoia to overwhelm the adolescent assurance in his own immortality. Maybe it had occurred to him that getting between every fresh Akuma and his Lady wasn’t exactly a recipe for longevity, but he brushed it off. Between him and Ladybug nothing that bad could ever happen, right? They were superheroes after all, and everyone knows superheroes will always win.
So he was not at all expecting to have to seriously contemplate his own fragility as his vision fades in and out and his bones creak protest against the pressure crushing him from all sides.
It was his own stupid, impulsive fault, of course. He’d charged straight at the Akuma without waiting for backup. He’d made himself a target, dancing just out of its reach, taunting, joking, distracting. He hadn’t expected the speed of the naga’s muscular tail, or the force it could exert.
So now here he is, dangling limply three feet above the floor, snapped halves of his baton somewhere underneath the massive scaly coils of the snake, making silent mental promises to something, anything that might be listening. If he just gets out of this alive he’ll tell Ladybug and Marinette everything, he’ll be a better friend, a better partner, he’ll even listen to every rule his father lays down for him, please—
The Akuma hisses, loosening its grip just enough that he can take in small sips of air. “Tomcat jumped in to save his pretty girlfriend. What a silly cat. Now his Miraculous is mine.”
He tries to lift his head, tries to smirk, tries to respond because seriously who talks like that? and just gives a small whistling exhale. Because it’s right, he’d spotted Marinette in harm’s way, shoving Alya away from danger, and he’d charged in without a second’s thought.
The naga brings its captive up closer to its scaly face, comically small human arms reaching for his ring. It’s so intent that it doesn’t hear the light footsteps creeping up behind it, doesn’t turn when a shattered piece of brick crumbles beneath her slight weight.
But Chat hears everything. He looks the Akuma straight in the eye, refusing to let his gaze flicker to his rescuer and give her away—and with the last of his strength sinks his claws into the scaly flesh of its hand.
The thing gives a shuddering, hissing screech, rearing back, and that’s just the opportunity she needs. Chat lets his head fall forward, black dots dancing in his vision, unable even to cry out as the snake coils tighter—tighter—and suddenly releases him.
Luckily he was being held right side up so he hits the ground legs first, before collapsing limply, chest heaving as he fights to re-expand his lungs. But now he has a full view of the fight, of the frail string looped around the Akuma’s neck, of the determined expression on Marinette’s face as she savagely yanks her tiny purse strap tighter.
No. No no no no she’s supposed to be far away, not overlapping with this part of his life—
The Akuma thrashes, and her little bag finally breaks. She leaps away from its writhing body with surprising agility, sprinting to his side. Frantic hand pat at his face, his chest, his neck, checking for signs of life, and he finally forces in an inhale under her touch.
Her own breath escapes sharply, and he can’t tell if it’s relief or annoyance. “Minou, you’re okay,” she breathes, and he forces a lopsided smile, lips still numb and cold from oxygen deprivation.
Behind her the Akuma has freed itself from the tattered remains of her bag, and his eyes widen. She reacts faster than he could have hoped, but she doesn’t run. Instead she whips around, crouches protectively, ferally over his prone body, and snarls at the Akuma.
“Don’t you dare touch him again!”
He tries to protest, a croaking noise dying in his battered throat, and she places a calming hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Chaton,” she mutters, not looking down at him again. In fact, she seems to be avoiding his gaze, and he has a split second to wonder why before—
I'm only two weeks late, don't rush me don't rush me! Seriously though, I apologize for the delay, but there was some seriously massive life upheaval that's still kinda going on, so it really couldn't be helped.
I want to note that I did write this before Princess Fragrance happened, and I mean, honestly, 99% of people's singing sounds like awful screeching noise to me (autism sound sensitivities yay). But I seriously almost died at his singing in that so I'm going to keep to my headcanon that Adrien is a terrible, awful, horrible singer.
Rating: T
Words: 1377
Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | AO3 | Day 6 | Day 7
In which Adrien is not actually a Disney prince.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Princess, please let me in?” Chat’s breath mists on the glass of her trapdoor, and he leans back to let it clear. Below him, sprawled out on her bed, scribbling in her sketchbook, Marinette shows no sign of having heard him at all.
He taps the glass, scratches at the frame, and tries again. “Princess, I said I was sorry.”
He can see the way her legs tense, even under her loose capris, and he presses his luck. “Please let me in? I have something for you. Please?” he whines, and scratches again.
She finally looks up, if only to glare at him, and he perks up instantly. “Princess?”
She rolls her eyes and goes back to her drawing, lips thin. He droops, does his best to look as contrite as possible. Ears down, eyes wide, tail literally and metaphorically tucked between his legs. “Marinette, please? I miss you.”
She huffs, and he claws at the wood again. “I want to come in!”
He flops over dramatically onto his side, paws pathetically at the unmoving latch. If only there was a bit of rain, so he could look a bit wet and bedraggled, then she’d open up. But no such luck tonight, there isn’t a cloud in the sky.
He pouts, bats halfheartedly at the latch again. All dramatics aside, he really is lonely tonight. He hadn’t realized just how much so until he’d tried to sleep in his empty bed, without the sound of her breath and the pulse of her heart. A purr rumbles in his chest, symptom of stress and self-comfort in one, and he settles to wait as long as necessary.
That ends up being not long at all, as the door under him shifts minutely, and he scrambles to his paws. “Princess?”
The way she’s looking at him is less-than-promising, but she is looking at him. He grins, reaches for her, and her eyes narrow.
“You left me this morning.”
He can feel the way his ears flatten, and does nothing to hide his shame.
“You ditched me and I had to explain to Alya why I was straddling le Chat Noir with my shorts half pulled off!”
He knows he goes red, and splutters, “Wait, your shorts? I didn’t—I mean—I—“
She jabs a finger at him, and he recoils instinctively. “You did. When you jumped me, and I don’t know how you didn’t notice and I didn’t notice but Alya did and—gah!”
She growls, and he leans forward again tentatively. “I really didn’t mean to, and I really am sorry.”
She harrumphs and looks away. He reaches to the side, retrieves his gift he’d left forgotten when faced with a locked door. “I brought you chocolate?”
Her eyes flicker rapidly between the treat and his face, before she apparently reaches a decision. Much faster than he expects, her hand flashes out to grab the candy, and she disappears back into her room, door slamming shut behind her.
And we’re back to square one.
He tips over again. “Princess, please? I’ll make it up to you. Please?”
She looks up at him through the glass, eyes narrowed. He mushes his face against the window, giving her the full force of his kitten eyes. “I’m really, really sorry.”
He can see the exact moment she makes up her mind, the way her mouth sets and eyes focus, and he rolls out of the way as she reaches for the door. She opens it a mistrustful two inches, eyeing him suspiciously. “How exactly do you plan to make it up to me, kitty.”
He offers her a hand up. “Do you trust me?”
She lets out a snort, covers her mouth and collapses down onto her bed. He catches the door and cocks his head in confusion as she folds up, panting through her nose as she tries to regain control of herself. “What?”
She closes her eyes, turns her face into her bedspread, takes several deep breaths. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, kitty, but we’re not in a Disney movie, and you’re more of an street cat than a prince.”
It takes him a long minute to make the connection she had, and he grins. “Princess,” he croons, leaning forward through the open trap door. “I could be a prince for you.”
She blinks at him, unsuspecting, and he takes a deep breath.
“I can show you the world—“
He can sing, when he so chooses, but not with any volume or force, or he loses control of the tune.
“Shining, shimmering, splendid—“
But now he does not so choose, and he belts out the song with as much enthusiasm and tremulous bad notes as possible.
“Tell me Princess, now when did you last let your heart deciiiide—“
She’s staring up at him in amused disbelief, and at that line finally shushes him. “Chaton, they’re going to think a cat’s dying up here.”
He pushes the trapdoor further open, free hand pressed to his heart as he continues.
“I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder! Over, sideways and—mmph!”
Her (surprisingly strong) arms circle around his chest and she tips backwards, hauling him down to land with a massive thump on the bed. The door slams shut inches behind his trailing feet, and he yelps, trying to scramble off her. She won’t let him go, arms tightening around his back as she shakes her head, rubbing her nose against his chest.
“You are the most ridiculous, awful, annoying tomcat. And I love you.”
He stops squirming sharply, slowly adjusting so his elbows press to the bed on either side of her head. He doesn’t dare ask, because what if he’d heard wrong? What if she hadn’t really meant it? That’s what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? Someone to love him in the same bright blinding pure way he loves Marinette and Ladybug?
She goes still underneath him, probably feeling the way he tenses. (Of course she does, he’s currently squashing her into her sweet-smelling sheets.) “Chat?”
It’s the hesitance in her voice that spurs him out of his thoughts. He raises himself up on his elbows, looking down into wide blue eyes.
“Sorry, Chaton, I should’ve—“
“I love you,” he interrupts, eyes searching her face for a reaction. “I love you I love you I love you I—“
Her eyes light up, her smile widens, and she lets out a giddy laugh, cutting him off with a hand over his mouth. “Chaton, Chaton, breathe.”
He does, then ducks his head to tuck it against the side of her neck, purr rumbling loud in his chest as her fingers card through his hair. “I love you, Chaton.”
He doesn’t have words, but he pushes closer and purrs harder, hoping she understands everything he’s choking on. She seems to, continuing to lazily comb her fingers through his hair, and slowly he realizes that he’s shaking. Her other hand comes up to his back, rubbing soothing circles against his tremors.
“If I’d known how much of a reaction that would get, I wouldn’t have said it at midnight,” she says lightly, and he huffs a weak laugh against her throat.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…fall apart.” She doesn’t know, doesn’t know just how much she means to him, how very empty his life is outside of school and being Chat Noir, she can’t know how long it’s been since he’s heard those words. He moves, nudging his nose into the hair behind her ear, where the vanilla scent is strongest.
She giggles, making no move to stop him. “Cute as you are, Chaton, you still owe me.”
“Hmm.” He’s limp with relief and bliss, and he’ll agree to anything she asks right now.
“Do you know what Alya did?”
“Hmm.” He shakes his head, relaxing into her even more.
“Chaton, she tried to give me the sex talk.”
“Hmm—what?!” He lurches up and away, scandalized. “We don’t—she knows we haven’t, we—“
She giggles, leans up to kiss him quiet. “That’s what I told her, but it still took an hour to get her to drop it.”
He winces in sympathy. “I’ll bring you chocolate every day for a month.”
Marichat Week ended the other day, but I’m still kind of reeling from it. Since it’s my first time to do a fandom day/week/month, I wanted to add a bookend to the whole thing.
My big takeaway for this whole experience is the reminder that I can, in fact, create a new thing every day. To be honest, it’s been a long time since I’d challenged myself like this, and it was wonderful. The fact that we had to create something everyday for seven days on a single pairing was both difficult and easy. It’s helpful stay in one frame of mind for a week, but it’s a test of creativity to make sure to not repeat things.
Thank you to everyone who encouraged me, enabled me, and got me out of being stuck. Thank you, too, @marichatweek, for setting this up!
The sketch there is for all of you. It’s set in “Enough For Now”, my first entry to Marichat Week. When I wrote it, I wasn’t so sure that other people would like it. I posted it, anyway, since I liked it. I was astonished at how well it was received in the first twenty-four hours and until now. I absolutely did not expect it. Thank you so much.
To wrap things up, here are my entries for Marichat Week again:
Secret Dating: Enough For Now,a ficlet
Cat Costume: I’ll wear your colors my dear, a sketch
Sin: One Thing Always Leads to Another, a 100-word drabble
Kittens: “You make a paw-sitively adorable kitten, Marinette!”, a sketch
Trust Me: Trust the Kitty, a drabble which will have a follow-up soon
Don’t Touch Him/Her: Sage Advice on Love and Rock and Roll, a drabble
Purring: Marinette Uses Purr! It’s Super Effective!, a sketch
Also, here are my other pre-reveal Marichat stuff. Please enjoy!
Summary: To think out of all people to discover her little secret, it would be him.
Chat stood a rooftop away from a certain classmate’s balcony, contemplating whether or not he should visit her. It was a holiday week and he was extremely bored! There wasn’t much he could do talking to Plagg or refreshing the Ladyblog every two minutes. Was it bad to say that he wished there was an akuma attack so he could see his lady?
His ears perked up at the groan coming from Marinette’s room. With curiosity, he landed on her balcony and knocked on her trap door.
“Chat?” A mumble leaked out of the door. He opened it and looked down at the curled form of Marinette.
“Heyoo, princess.” Chat greeted. “How are you- are you okay?”
She had one arm clenching the bottom of her stomach while the other was curled on the fabric of her pillow. He jumped down and landed at her side, careful of his shoes on her mattress. “Do you have a stomachache?”
“I’m on my period, idiot.” Marinette snapped. Chat blinked.
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s it?” Chat took a step back, surprised at the weird mood swing. Marinette glanced at him and sighed. “Sorry, chaton. My period cramps make me irritated.”
“Oh um…” Chat’s eyes darted everywhere except her direction. Then he remembered a conversation between two female models during the break of one of his photoshoots. “Would you like some chocolate?”
Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate?”
Chat nodded. “I heard it does wonders, and that when girls have um – it – they need chocolate or something just as sweet.”
“Well,” Marinette smiled, and then grimaced as another cramp clenched, “I could use some chocolate right now.”
“I’ll be back!” Chat said happily, eager to help his classmate. A second later, he had exited her room and headed home.
“Grab some cheese while you’re at it.”
“Plagg, shh!” Adrien looked left and right before ducking inside the kitchen. He cut through the room and towards the cold store room, opening the thick door with a grunt. Grinning, he shifted through frozen meat and opened a box, grabbing a fistful of his secret stash of Amedei’s Chaou.
Heading back, he paused and his eyes fell on the dessert freezer. If he was going to be giving her sweets, why not add a little extra?
“You forgot the cheese.”
Chat landed once more on his classmate’s balcony, an ice box in his arms. “Princess?”
“Come in.” Was her muffled reply.
Opening the trapdoor, he climbed inside, box in his hand as he flopped down beside her. She had sat up, her laptop on in front of her. He tilted his head at the screen. “Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood?”
“You like anime, don’t you?” Marinette said. Chat stared at her, surprised that she had noticed. “I searched and it said that this was one of the best.”
“It’s the best!” Chat grinned. He opened the box, cold steam creeping out. Marinette peered inside. He pulled out the chocolate squares. Marinette accepted them and bit into the rich chocolate goodness. She shivered in delight.
“This is really good. These must’ve been expensive!”
Chat shrugged. “I usually eat these after patrols, but you can have them. I have more at home.”
“Thank you, kitty.” Marinette said gratefully.
“Anything fur you, princess.” She rolled her eyes but then perked up as he reached inside and pulled out a huge box of dark chocolate peppermint ice cream. Her eyes widened. “Häagen-Dazs?!”
“Well, since you’re a princess, you should have the best.” Chat said with a smile. She opened the lid and sniffed at the aroma that wafted out.
“Wait here.” Marinette said as she climbed out of the bed and headed downstairs. Chat settled in the sheets and waited. A minute later, she had come back with two silver spoons in her hands. She tossed one at him and he caught it with ease.
She snuggled in her blanket and settled back on her pillow. She glanced at the frozen cat. “Are you going to stare at me the whole day or are you going to come and cuddle in with me? I can’t finish this ice cream on my own.”
Chat brightened up and he nestled in with her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. She pressed play and FMA:Brotherhood began to play. They sank back, eating the ice cream directly out of the box.
And then it happened.
There was a vibration, much like the starting of an engine. Chat frowned as he touched his throat. He wasn’t the one making the sound so who…
He looked at Marinette.
She had her eyes closed, eating the ice cream, a low purr emitting from deep within her.
“Did you just…purr?” Chat asked in awe.
Marinette’s eyes snapped open and stared at him in horror. “N-No!”
“You purr when you’re content.” Chat said.
“I-I don’t!”
He grinned at her. “And you said I was the cat here."
“S-Shut up! I don’t purr!”
Chat shrugged. “Whatever you say, purrincess.”
Her protest was drowned out by his laughter, anime and ice cream temporarily forgotten.
Days on end, he would think back at the moment and have a snicker to himself. This was a simple fact filed away. A bubble of a secret between them.
this was gonna be part 3 to Circles but i didn’t get it done on time so i did this instead
Day 1: Secret Dating (aka Circles Part 1), Day 2: Cat Costume, Day 3: Sin, Day 4: Kittens, Day 5: Trust Me (aka Circles Part 2), Day 6: Don’t Touch Her!
Summary: in which Adrien/Chat is a dork and actively tries to act more like a cat
Words: 762
Just because he looked like a cat doesn’t mean he has to act like one.
He did it because he wanted to.
Adrien thought it would be hilarious if not only did he tell cat puns, but if he played with balls of yarn(it was actually really fun) or if he chased the reflections shiny objects made on walls (again, very fun). It helped that his ears and tail moved with him to complete the image.
His ultimate goal, however, was to learn how to purr. Human vocal cords were not made to make that specific sound, but they could get very close. He figured out how to actually make the noise first (it took him a few hours but he got it) and eventually, he was able to hold the noise for longer periods of time. He was now up to 47 seconds, which doesn’t seem like a lot but when you’re making that noise it feels like an eternity.
Overall Adrien was proud of himself. He had mastered almost everything that a cat would do (he didn’t try to knock things off of tables and ledges, that’s just immature and would cause questions more than anything), including holding his purr for almost a minute.
So you can imagine his delight when he started hanging out with Marinette as Chat Noir. He didn’t get much downtime with his lady to show off his cat skills, since he would never dare let his cat-act interfere with an akuma fight. At least not when it’s serious. (Adrien couldn’t help but sniff at his lady inside the bakery, okay? She was there and the opportunity presented itself—)
Anyway. At first Marinette had rolled her eyes at him when he did something particularly cat-like, and he had learned early on to never touch her yarn, even if it did look fun… but over time her reaction changed from annoyance to a cute little smile, or a fond shake of her head, or something of the like. Chat was proud of himself for getting her to see how adorable he was when he acted like a cat.
Yes, he is adorable. He owns being adorable. On second thought, his princess could give him a run for his money… but she doesn’t need to know that.
Chat was particularly happy when one day Marinette was petting his hair while his head was in her lap. This was it, the moment where all his hard work paid off. It was time to see if his purr was authentic enough, and to see if his princess liked it.
He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of her fingers in his hair. He focused his energy on his throat, starting up a low purr and trying so hard not to mess it up.
Marinette’s hand stilled. His breath stopped, pausing his purr before he could get to 6 seconds. Chat opened his eyes to see her staring down at him with a surprise written over her pretty face.
“Did you just purr?” she asked incredulously.
Chat slowly nodded, suddenly unsure. “Yeah… I like your fingers in my hair so…”
“Oh my god,” she breathed before laughing. “That is the best thing I’ve ever heard!”
He stared up at her, totally bewildered. He had no idea what was going on. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Marinette said, slowly letting her laughs stop, “that I didn’t think you were actually a cat, but this basically confirms it.”
“So…” he started to ask, needing to be sure, “you liked it?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” She smiled brightly down at him as her hand starting petting his hair again, and that was all the confirmation he needed.
He smiled back at her before closing his eyes and starting up the purr again, this time getting to 52 seconds (new record yes) before he had to stop. He slowly opened his eyes, having found the situation terribly relaxing, and looked up at Marinette again to find her own eyes had closed and her head leaned back against the chair. She had the cute little smile on her face, and that was when his new mission in life became to purr for her whenever he could just so he could see her this relaxed and happy as many times as possible.
He closed his eyes again and purred some more, determined to go for longer this time. He had always been proud of his purr, but seeing that his princess liked it as well made his efforts all the more worthwhile.
MariChat Week is over! ;O; It’s been a blast writing for my first love in this ridiculous square. Thank y’all for reading. *salutes* Also, have I mentioned I’m dying for a Christmas episode? MariChat Week Day 7: Purring.
~
He came to her in the early morning hours, after the mass and the dinner had wrapped up and the Parisians who weren’t going to party until dawn had gone to bed. Though the night was pitch black and overcast, the streets below were illuminated. He found Marinette staring dreamily out her window at the colorful tree in front of Notre Dame.
“Shame on you, Marinette. How is Père Noël expected to bring you anything if you don’t go to sleep?”
Marinette looked up at Chat, who had perched on her bed and grinned down at her from the loft. “He brought me you, didn’t he?”
Chat clasped both hands to his chest as if he’d been shot by an arrow. “Was that romance? From my princess?” He fell backwards dramatically. “All my heroic feats must have put me at the top of the nice list this year--oh, I like what you’ve done with the place.”
He referred to the strings of lights she’d hung up around her bed. The loft had a soft, warm glow that matched that of the decorated streets. Marinette climbed the ladder and dove onto the bed beside Chat. “How was your night?” she asked.
Chat turned his head towards her. “Not as fun as Christmas ought to be, but I suppose I can’t get everything I want.”
Marinette frowned and crawled up to her pillow. She knew Chat had a troubled home life, but for it to extend to the holidays? He really was unlucky, wasn’t he? “Here, minou,” she said, patting her lap.
Chat flipped onto his hands and knees, grinned, wiggled his backside and pounced. Marinette fought a yelp on her way down, but all thoughts of protest were lost as his arms slipped around her back and he buried his face in her neck with a contented sigh. She giggled, threading her hands into his hair. “This is nice,” he murmured.
“Mmhmm.” Her nails lightly scraped his scalp and she was surprised to feel a vibration against her chest. She thought it was her imagination, but when she repeated the action, she heard the rumble clearly in the silence of the room. “Are you purring, chaton?”
“Yes,” he said, placing a lazy kiss on her neck.
Marinette blushed. “Well, that’s new.” Her fingers trailed down his back. “I like it.”
Chat lifted his head and gazed deep into her eyes, the green of his softened even further by the loft’s intimate lighting. Marinette laid a hand on his cheek and he turned his nose into her palm, his eyes drifting shut. “Marinette...”
Her heart lurched in her chest. “Hmm?”
“I love you.”
She thanked her lucky stars that she was lying down, otherwise she was sure her legs would have given out. It wasn’t like Chat had ever concealed this fact from her, but hearing it spoken out loud... she found herself too tongue-tied by a rush of affection to respond. So she pulled him down, nuzzled his nose, and sank into her pillow as their lips met in a slow and tender kiss.
His purr rumbled on long after they’d separated, stopping only when he fell asleep in her arms. It was then, in the happy haze between passionate kisses and Christmas slumber, that Marinette found the courage to respond.
