hi. wrote this in the realm of discord snippets recently and thought it was kinda cute and solid enough to post and so. viola
I don't actually know what buchimaru is btw
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"Ohmigosh," Ann's eyes widened, her fingers raised to her mouth as she loudly questioned. "Is that what I think it is?"
Makoto spun around on her heel after she'd removed her shoes and locked the apartment door behind herself and her own eyes grew wide - though for far different reasons, despite the shared cause, than Ann's own. She raced around the corner without a second thought and dodged past Ann's body, with a near primal instinct surging within her that saw her lunge across her bed. With speed and desperation in equal measure, Makoto quickly tried to obscure the truth and nearly made a mess of her room.
All to nudge a large, stuffed panda from her mattress.
"No." Makoto replied as she came to lay on one side, facing towards Ann with an obviously forced grin. "That was just, uh…"
"A body pillow?" Ann chuckled as she crossed her arms.
"Yes!" Makoto nodded her head, then swiftly and aggressively shook it. "I mean, no, it, er-"
"Relax," Ann continued to giggle on her way into Makoto's bedroom. "I know what it is, who it is. And honestly, I'm kinda jealous."
"Wha…" Makoto raised a brow, a twinge of red to her face and her voice softening as she spoke. "Jealous of…Buchimaru-kun?"
"Duh." Ann reached over her and retrieved the oversized plush, just to cuddle it to her chest. "Big and soft and squishy. Who wouldn't be?"
"Er…I just figured it was, you know…" Makoto adjusted her posture, until she was sat crosslegged in front of her with her eyes away. "Childish."
"Nah, not at all!" Ann cheerfully affirmed, the plush offered back to its rightful owner. "And even if it was, what's wrong with that? We've all got our interests."
"Right," Makoto almost greedily took back her Buchimaru-kun, a timid grin as she finally came to look at Ann. "Just…not something I see you guys flaunting all that much, so I just assumed it'd be..."
"Embarrassing? You kidding?" Ann rummaged through the back at her side, until she came to brandish an old styled DVD. "Like I said, we've all got our things."
Makoto perked up as she stared at a vibrant cover adorned with a grey and black suited man. "Is that…a copy of that old import show? The one about bats, or something? That's what we're watching?"
"Yup," Ann grinned confidently from behind the case as she popped it open. "And tonight. Niijima-senpai, you're gonna find out where Panther got her start."
Makoto gave a flushed smirk as she nodded Ann onward, her shoulder relaxed as Ann stood up from the bed. While Ann fiddled with the DVD player Makoto had long since smuggled away, Makoto pulled her jacket off and let herself fall back along the mattress with a relieved breath in her throat.
She'd hidden her interest in the adventures of stuffed pandas so well, for so long, none of those she'd considered a friend having caught on as far as she'd known. But, having been swept up in the discussion and planning out of this evening, a night in with Ann, she'd grown careless enough now that her secret was certainly out. Makoto stared up at the ceiling, still twinged in red - until the theme tune from Ann's DVD started.
Makoto sat up slowly and found Ann continuing to struggle with the device, now sat at the foot of the bed. She eased herself downward and slipped the master remote from Ann's grasp, a slight chuckle quiet on her lips. A few taps of a few buttons and not only did the picture look far more appropriately colored, but they'd managed to navigate the main menu.
She handed the remote back and retreated along her bed while Ann tabbed around for a time. Subtitles were turned on, audio was adjusted and soon enough the first of however many episodes had been loaded up and swiftly paused. Ann then joined Makoto at the head of the mattress, Makoto leaned timidly over until she could reach for and reclaim Buchimaru.
And as Ann settled in beside her with a cheery smile on her face, Makoto brought her plushy slowly across her lap. Then, even more gradually, she pulled Buchimaru until the oversized plush was left to rest atop them both, effectively shared between them. Makoto smiled back at Ann a far softer grin, and the two eased their heads together just as Ann pressed play.
Mere minutes ago, Adrien Agreste had been frantically looking for somewhere to hide from the similarly panicking crowd. Another day in Paris, another akuma attacking the city - despite the pouring rain and his plans to put as much distance between himself and his home as he could.
Unfortunately, he hadn't found space enough to safely transform before the beast of the week had scooped him from the ground, again endangering his life. Luckily enough, however, this one was sloppy, simple, it only took Ladybug appearing with a few furious jabs before the skyscraper sized monster was brought down.
And with it, so too did Adrien Agreste once again fall like the many uncountable times before. He'd only made it a few stories down before he was caught by the ever comforting arms of his hero, with Ladybug expertly swiping him from the air and carrying him away from the bustling crowd below, themselves returning to their more normal behavior at a record rate.
The rain quickly proved more a threat than the akuma, an uncertain grip on Adrien's ruined clothes prompting Ladybug to briefly land on a rooftop. She called out for her charm, Adrien curious as to what she might receive with the akuma already beaten. Finding himself in luck again, Ladybug was soon stood before him with a red and black spotted umbrella in her hands and a smile on her face.
"I, uh, guess this is for you, huh?" She chuckled, offering her lucky charm over.
Adrien accepted it, but leaned the umbrella over her head with a subtle grin along his lips. "Well, I think there's room enough for both of us, no?"
"I...appreciate the thought," Ladybug softly blushed, nudging his hand back. "But I kinda need to be able to swing."
"Oh, oh, uh-" Adrien flashed a brighter shade of crimson, hand at the back of his neck. "Right, yeah, er, sorry."
"It's alright." Ladybug giggled, fist over her mouth. "You, uh, ready to go?"
With a nod and a bashful look, Adrien found himself in her arms again. One around his back, the other lacing along the underside of his thighs as she effortlessly picked him up. His own grip tight on the umbrella and his palm along her shoulder blade, Adrien did his best to guard the both of them as she swung them through the city. He didn't question where she was going, this sort of situation commonplace enough now that he already knew her intentions.
And after a rapidly passing few blocks and some skillful umbrella management, Adrien's eyes fixated on the mansion they rapidly approached. The lights dim, the halls as empty as ever. So much had happened to him now that, though it was his home, Adrien almost found more comfort in a moment like this - drenched by the downpour of rain and carried tight against Ladybug's body.
Yet his feet found the ground again all the same, coming to rest on the doorstep to what had become his mansion. Adrien got his bearings and balance back, then started to open the door without much consideration, lost in the grey clouds within his mind until the umbrella he still clung to nudged against the oversized doorway.
"Ah, uh," Adrien swallowed, offering the charm back to her with a timid smile. "Sorry, but I think this is yours."
"Of course." Ladybug smirked back, giving a nod that tapered off as she noticed his expression and came instead to question him. "Uh, are you...okay, Adrien?"
"Hm? Yeah, of course." Adrien answered, his back to her and his head slightly tilted over his shoulder. "Er, thanks again, for the save."
The pattering of the rain intensified, clashing against the cold concrete and metal that made up the Agreste mansion. Adrien didn't move at first, his head dipping forward as he almost reluctantly reached for the doorknob. His hand was intercepted, however, a tug at his wrist pulling him back and a firm palm against his own getting him to turn back around.
Before him stood a Ladybug wearing a look of understanding or, at least, of care. She gripped him tightly, rainwater squeezing out from between their hands. Confusion on his brow, Adrien's lips gaped slightly and that twinge of red along his face darkened. Crimson flared as Ladybug then, without a word, leaned towards him.
Ladybug pressed a kiss to his cheek, her lips firm to his chilled flesh. She wrapped her fingers around his, holding onto Adrien's hand with a warm, comforting grip while she slowly pried herself just inches away. Once her lips pulled free, a brief stain of her lipstick was left behind, itself washed away by the rain as it drained down his cheek.
Adrien stood, wide eyed and speechless save a quieted gasp. Whatever dour feelings he'd had were overwhelmed with the warmth of her lips, the heat of her breath. He'd find no clarity in this storm, however, with Ladybug slipping away just as easily as she'd pulled him in, replacing her grasp with the umbrella he'd returned, his fingers wrapping around the magical metal on instinct.
Ladybug smiled at him, despite the rain, with a loving mutter on her tongue.
"Anytime, Adrien."
With a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder, she was gone. A rapidly fading speck that swung through the distance. Adrien followed her until he simply couldn't make her out over the cloudy Paris skyline any further, that depressed expression his face shifting once she'd fully disappeared. There, in the pouring rain, in front of the empty home that had caged him for so long and the dull life that awaited him, Adrien trailed a finger along his cheek and came to smile with warmth.
hey what if Strikeback part 2 went a little differently? anyway-
"Why..." Ladybug shivered, glancing towards her partner with her head still firmly in her hands. "Why don't you just...give up on me?"
Disaster had struck, Shadow Moth had effectively won. Through some heinous scheme with who she'd since learned was actually Félix, he'd obtained the miracle box right from under her nose. Now an image of his face had appeared over the city she'd failed, taunting the heroine who'd failed it.
Yet by her side, despite near total defeat and the pouring rain, still stood Chat Noir. Her partner through all of this, who she'd tried to push away out of a misplaced sense of safety and security. He remained motionless beside her, glaring at the image of Shadow Moth that further clouded the Parisian sky.
"I lost all of the miraculous, I'm the worst guardian ever!" Ladybug sniffled and trembled through her words.
Chat subtly flinched, but kept his eyes forward and his head up. It was impossible for Ladybug, despite her distress and anxiety, not to grow confused. He didn't extend a hand, didn't interrupt her sobbed rambling, instead allowing her a space to let how she felt in this moment out - and she took full advantage of it, her head tilting towards the rooftop beneath them as she balled herself up and continued.
"And you..." Ladybug cradled her head between her hands. "I lied to you, I kept you at a distance. Every time you offered to help, I...I never took it!
At his side, Chat Noir's fingers twitched. His teeth flashed behind his lips, almost as if to growl at the maniacal laughter that boomed across Paris. Ladybug again peeked at him past her fingers, her heart racing as she stared at her partner. At the one who'd not yet left her side, who'd been there all this time. This defeat stung, however, and it felt all she could do was let out a withheld gasp, tears rolling down her cheeks in the rain.
"I'm...a failure, Chat Noir," Ladybug cried into the spandex on her hands. "I ruined everything."
Her heart pounded in her chest as it all truly sank in. Desolation burned in her mind, a darkness enveloping her thoughts that she might have drowned in, if not for the hand that reached towards her. It took her a moment to notice, to process the leather that offered her respite from despair. Her fingers trembled, her eyes puffy and red beneath her mask.
"My lady," Chat spoke, a crack of lightning around them as he urged her to take his hand with a smile somehow on his face. "Please."
Ladybug's fingers curled slowly around his palm, squeezing him tight once she had a gasp despite the confusion on her brow. Crimson lit her cheeks aflame, a blush so fierce that she couldn't hide it even if she'd wanted to. With a breath of cold, rainy air, she pushed herself upwards. Her muscles ached as she slowly came to stand next to him again, where she belonged.
"We're going to get them back." Chat stated, the leather of his glove audibly straining from how tightly he gripped her hand. "One by one, until the last."
"Chat-" Ladybug meekly attempted to interrupt, an instinct brought on by the fear and anxiety that had threatened to overwhelm her.
Chat wouldn't let them take her, smiling wider as he continued. "And then we'll make sure this never happens again."
"You..." Ladybug wiped the back of her hand along her face. "And me?"
"You, the best superhero who ever was," Chat Noir nodded towards the crowd, the cheers of her name swelling to a fever pitch. "Them, the people of Paris."
Ladybug's face grew brighter, the outpour of support from below rising above any taunts Shadow Moth could give. Their voices smothered his, though none in the moment were quite as loud on her ears than the one that stood right next to her, his eyes narrowed at her own.
"And me," Chat continued, wiping a tear from the edge of her mask. "Your loyal partner."
It broke her, a crack of her voice stopping her from speaking. Instead she clutched at his wrist, just beneath the cuff of his suit, and held his hand to her face for a moment. Chat came to subtly blush too, doing what felt natural in thumbing the rainwater from her cheek as she nuzzled her head to his palm.
"We're going to win, my lady, you're going to win." Chat went on, pressing his forehead to hers. "I know you will, because you're the best of us, because I...I love-"
"Just-" Ladybug stopped him with a thumb to his lips. "Just shut up and kiss me already."
She leaned on him, against his chest, and took a breath. Her lips parted and her fingers slipped from his own. Ladybug let her arms sink down his shoulders, with Chat taking the initiative in wrapping his own around her in a tight embrace. Rain poured around them, the crowd still chanting her name as another strike of lightning flashed across the darkened sky. Fear, frustration and despair all melted away as her lips pressed to his, a shuddering breath and a tingle on her skin as Chat kissed her right back, just as firmly.
Ladybug swallowed, parting from him just slightly with her heart beating in tune with the pattering of rain and her forehead to his own. Her arms pulled up enough that her hands were on his either cheek, holding him tenderly as thunder echoed throughout the night. Chat Noir stood there with her, as he always did, with a smile on his face and devotion in his heart. And slowly he reached up, prying her hands from his face and again placing fingers between her own as he came to step slightly back.
The Parisians below still cheering, her partner's hand in her own, she again looked to him without a word. Chat Noir simply nodded back, squeezing her hand tightly as he returned to her side with a confident grin along his lips. She then looked ahead, at the incredible challenge that awaited her - awaited them - and felt not despair, but courage. For, there in the downpour, it was Ladybug and Chat Noir against the world. And, just as they always had, as they always should,
Nathalie stood alone in the doorway to the Agreste’s wine cellar, the time somewhere just past midnight. The room itself had been all but abandoned, with the remaining residents of the mansion lacking much need for such expensive and otherwise fancy drinks. Nathalie herself hadn’t had one in so long now, she’d all but lost track of when the last time she’d enjoyed a drink in a more intimate setting.
Yet something still drew her here, downstairs yet not quite the deepest level the manner held, as if led by a ghost. This had become a near routine, especially as of late, though she’d yet to enter the room again. Wandering here by herself, admiring the untouched bottles illuminated by the light she’d turned on with use of a nearby drawstring. Such intricate designs, such exotic flavors likely only improving with the passage of time, it contrasted the melancholy she felt as she again forbade herself from slipping a bottle.
And not because she worried of repercussions of taking one from beneath her boss’ nose, or feared a case of loose lips spilling the various secrets she long since swore to keep. Nathalie kept her tongue dry and her senses sober not simply because her life demanded it - though it certainly did in some regards - but because it didn’t feel right to do so like this. To get drunk, alone, where once there had been such life. But times had grown tougher, and tonight things might just change.
Pressure had only continued to mount as scheme after scheme not only failed, but seemed to make things worse. What felt like a common goal had seemingly shifted and left her feeling even more isolated than she already felt. It had been a long, long time since she’d set foot in this room, but with all of that and the tragedy that made up her recent past pushing down, she felt almost compelled to slip away from it all, at least for now. This place one of the only she might find a true respite.
So Nathalie exhaled as she stepped further in, opting to simply tour this somber room amid her own pensive feelings. Her hand ranked along bottle tops, clearing some dust as she examined the odds and ends. Then she spied it, from a distance. A vibrantly colored bottle left aside from the rest of the collection, left out on its side atop a corner table with the hints of a cobweb starting to form along the bottom of the glass. Almost wincing, her fingers subtly trembling, she reached for the bottle.
She recognized it without thought, the label denoting an alcohol from a far off yet familiar place. One brought back after an initial trip, shared as if it were a delicacy. Of course it was far from anything so fancy, though that hadn’t stopped the former woman of the home from regarding it highly - especially as she poured her assistant a glass some odd few years ago now. What sat before Nathalie now was unopened, but had been intended as a drink for a similar celebration upon return from some long trip, one Nathalie herself had helped arrange.
But that celebration would never happen. Time never blessed them again, instead working against them shortly after that trip and the results of their incredible findings. The woman fell ill, some mystic illness taking her from her family and trusted confidants with a fake funeral used to shroud the truth from the public at large. Nathalie gripped the bottle tightly as she faced down the wretched memories of that time, of how Emilie was stolen from them - from her.
Nathalie exhaled, sitting the bottle upright on the table with an audible sigh. She couldn’t bring herself to drink it, certainly not alone and knowing what she knew. That Emilie wasn’t truly dead, that she was left in slumber further beneath the mansion. Nathalie placed a hand atop the table, rubbing her forehead with the other as the truth ate at her as it always had.
Few knew such truth in the ways that she did. Of the exact nature of Emilie Agreste’s disappearance, that such tragedy was arguably far worse than it seemed. This was another reason Nathalie had until now relented and avoided this wine room, knowing the perils of intoxicating oneself while also falling under the influence of the remorse, regret and shame she faced on a near daily basis.
She came to sit down next to the table for a moment, head slinking into her hands as the weight of her frustrations and perceived failings bore down. Emilie’s disappearance - her current state of suspended animation - it wasn’t truly her fault, Nathalie knew that. But she felt responsible all the same, for the trip and the findings and the paths that led their lives down. Has she not encouraged it, had she found the strength to pause, had she talked Emilie out of...
Her back sank along the leathered cushion behind her, the dim light reflecting off the various glasses around her. Nathalie let herself breathe, then climbed out of the seat. Slowly, painfully, she stood upright, the machine along her back a further reminder of all this chasing of magic had cost. Letting her eyes remain shut, she left the bottle belonging to Emilie where it sat, deciding once more that it best remain otherwise untouched.
Though the hope of Emilie returning to drink it had dwindled immensely from the last time she’d stepped into this room. It made sense to store it away, yet Nathalie couldn’t bring her hand to the bottle again. Instead she continued on, the stress and pressure having finally mounted enough to drive her further into the room. Casks and containers lined the walls, some far older - and filthier - than the others.
Keeping this room up seemed futile, too, hence why she hadn’t bothered. Nobody came down here anyway, a room secluded from even the high end security measures the ever obsessive, paranoid man of the home had installed. Her mind was drawn to him as she passed a selection of locally sourced drink, the kind they’d once shared together in the aftermath of Emilie’s supposed passing.
Nathalie couldn’t look back on those days with anything other than regret, itself veering on disgust as she admired the bottles sat along the walls. She hated how blind she felt to his true intentions, to how far he’d strayed the course under her eye. Where once his goals aligned with her own, lately it felt impossible to view him as anything but the monster the rest of Paris painted him as - his alter ego, anyway.
Though he continued to proclaim that this was for Emilie, for his family, Nathalie was struggling to buy it. His schemes had only grown more heinous and destructive, his power mounting despite his true desire yet eluding him. In some ways, Nathalie was happy about that. She found reprieve in the fact that two still stood against his madness in the ways she had started wishing she could.
Her hand grazed along a few bottle tops as she continued, reminiscing on the good memories that all felt tainted now. The cherished thoughts she once held so dear of both of them now clouded with remorse and fear. Those feelings turned towards herself, too, with Nathalie struggling to escape the trailing belief that she was little better than Gabriel.
Though her days as Mayura were behind her, the acts she’d done beneath the mask still haunted her mind. Introspection was something she’d fought off for so long now, yet it still seeped in all the same. That she’d used and abused sentimonsters for nefarious means, attacked the innocents of Paris all in the name of some warped plan. Nathalie had saved Gabriel, more than once, from his ultimate defeat. And it weighed on her, what it meant then and what it would mean now.
She hadn’t gained as much notoriety as her boss, yet her existence had been noticed by some. Terms thrown at her for her helping of the then-Hawk Moth, that she was some horrible person, some villain. And it proved difficult for her to disagree, especially now. Nathalie had been his loyal accessory, after all, working for Emilie’s sake but working with him all the same. She held his secrets, she fought for and protected him, sacrificed for him, she...
Nathalie shook her head. What she’d done in his machinations, in her name, would it all come to define her? Was she truly the villain she appeared to be?
Perhaps, in some ways, yes, there was little arguing with her genuine crimes and doing so for the sake of another wouldn’t clear her, no matter how righteous her cause. But with hindsight and some recent revelations, she saw the man she’d devoted herself to clearly now. That this lust for power of his had corrupted pure - if dangerous - intentions, those they’d once shared. Balling a fist up, Nathalie stopped in place and slipped a bottle from the wall, charging out of this wine room with resolve to make amends for her own failings. Make it right, all the wrongs she’d committed. She could change things, fix things. There was still time.
She made it to the doorway before such thoughts burned out, reality keeping her in check. Any move she made to undermine Gabriel wouldn’t simply backfire on herself, she didn’t quite care about that anymore. Rather, it was the crossfire that worried her, those who might suffer the most should Gabriel be exposed. With the bottle in hand, she tugged the light off and made her way back through the mansion. In the near pitch black darkness, she wandered the Agreste grounds with only one thing on her mind.
And in no time, she was grazing fingertips down a familiar door. It hadn’t been shut, the light pressure nudging it just slightly open. Nathalie sharply breathed before letting herself in, leaning past the large skateboard ramp that remained on one side to gaze into the bedroom. Unlike the rest of the home, this room remained illuminated with the bed itself and the lone occupant atop it left bright.
There, bathed in moonlight, Adrien Agreste slept with a smile on his face. Nathalie leaned against the ramp, admiring him, almost envious of the obvious joy he’d found. He surely wasn’t at peace, but his odd talks of some baker girl lighting him up in ways she’d rarely seen since his mother left them. A happiness she herself had lacked for just as long, one she was sure his father would come to forbid.
For now though, in this moment, Adrien was allowed to be happy. Allowed to feel joy and live a life she once feared he’d be completely denied. Nathalie’s thoughts of betrayal and discontent subsided here, as she stared at the one who’d been left in his mother’s wake. The one she’d been tasked with caring for, who had been so innocent in all of this and left isolated and alone for so long. The son that Nathalie had been entrusted to, as per one of Emilie’s last wishes.
As quietly as she entered, Nathalie slipped out of Adrien’s bedroom and walked back through the mansion. She traveled the halls, the darkness that engulfed them seemingly endless until moonlight broke again. It leaked in through a doorway that she soon stepped out of, taking a corner and a few steps beneath the night sky to find herself where she wanted to be.
Beneath that glowing moon, drink still firmly in hand, Nathalie came face to face with Emilie. A stone smile across her lips, a dress chiseled to perfection and a few flowers blooming up the walls beside her. Through the regret and frustration she felt, Nathalie found comfort here, at what had acted as a sort of tombstone for the not quite deceased. She warmly sighed, easing into a seat next to the statue of the woman she’d long since lost beneath the window of the son she vowed to protect.
Nathalie relaxed along stone, her head tilted towards the stone visage of Emilie Agreste - Emilie Graham de Vanily - with a soft, remorseful smile across her lips.
“What do I do, Emilie?” She wondered aloud, her thumbnail fiddling with the cap of her drink. “What would you...”
Her eyes glanced down, then to the sky. Stars filled the night, glimmering and shining so brilliantly, so far away. So familiar, so much like her. She twisted the lid from the bottle she brought out without so much as a glance, letting it fall to the ground without a thought. Her head tilted back again, this time for a drink of whatever she’d grabbed. Something not quite bitter, though not entirely sweet. Somewhat malty, smooth yet with enough of a burn, a flavor that only seemed to further remind her of whom she sat against.
Nathalie warmly laughed as she peeked at the label, revealing it a long saved scotch. She let out a deep breath, then drank some more, another swig followed by one more for good measure. The bottle wouldn’t be finished tonight, she had far more sense than that, and she might not even get fully drunk. It would only be used to grant Nathalie a rest from the madness that had overwhelmed her life, a respite from it all. Her free hand slipped over slowly, easing into the stone lap of the statue until her fingers laced around those that would be Emilie’s.
For it all, the anger and fear and uncertainty, she found comfort here. On the grounds of a madman, sworn to care for his son even if he wouldn’t. Next to the one she’d truly lost but similarly swore not to fail. And she wouldn’t, her resolve as firm as it could be now and her path clear. She would honor Emilie’s memory, she would care for her son - and she would do anything it took to save them, from the machinations of a madman and mystical tragedy alike. This was her life, after all, and it would be devoted to the cause she held most dear - to those whom she truly loved, at any cost.
A gentle tear rolling down her cheek, Nathalie took another drink.
Few in Paris knew how dangerous love could be better than Ladybug, herself one who, though she’d tried to keep hers at a yoyo’s length, had found herself in a friendship with one Adrien Agreste all the same. And though risky, things had went well...until she stumbled into a shocking reveal, one that could threaten to upend her entire life.
(AO3)
hi. no idea what this is, if it’s good, etc., but I felt like writing and hey, it’s a bit more ladrien for that ever growing catalogue of mine, so! here’s something! a mix of fluff and angst, I hope u enjoy!
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Love could be a dangerous thing. Ladybug, perhaps more than most, knew this very well. She’d seen how destructive love could be first hand, far too many times to count after so many years beneath her red and black spotted mask. It could drive one mad to devastating effect, and that was when both people could truly know each other in all the ways that her love could never truly know her - not so long as Paris was at risk and her life without the mask remained the mess it usually was.
Her life was chaos on a good day, often torn in two halves with the weight of the world on her shoulders all the same. Personal obligations that constantly mounted, mystical attacks on the city she loved and swore to protect, it all too often felt relentless and overwhelming. An unending flood of responsibilities that so frequently threatened to overwhelm her entire being.
And, at times where fear sank in and hope ran out, all that kept her afloat was that love of hers, regardless of the risks it posed. A tender desire she’d never been able to shake, no matter how many times she’d worked to put it behind her for the sake of her various duties. Somehow, someway, this boy had lingered on her mind and served as something of a safeguard, a sanctuary. The flame in her flood.
Adrien Agreste was and had been, whether he knew it or not, that flame.
Something so dangerous and yet someone she was so drawn to. So much so that, as the years went on, she’d inched closer to him. Emboldened by her mask and, sometimes, just in need of a friendly face, she’d allowed herself less and less space from that flickering flame she still craved so badly. For the longest time, it’d only been in passing. She’d catch him when he fell, he’d pull her out of the way of an oncoming danger, and those moments would last as long as she could get them to.
Ladybug knew it risky, she knew it was surely wrong, to grow close to a civilian. Her efforts saw their earliest encounters kept as brief as could be, errant glances and momentary smiles. How those ached at her, how they singed her senses. To be so close to who she craved and yet bound by responsibility to maintain her distance all the same. So many things she wanted to tell him, then, that she longed to tell him now.
There had been days spent writing out what she might say if she’d ever had the chance to casually sit with him, nights where she’d recite her passion into the reflections of Paris. It was all for naught, and she knew that well. Things were, despite how she truly felt, best this way. He’d be kept from the danger of her life, or at least as much as a world famous former model could be - which proved to be not very much, to be fair. And she would avert the risk of love driving her mad, even if it often felt like the opposite.
Yet, as time marched on and her life continuously changed, Ladybug found more and more opportunities to get just that little bit closer to him. A lull in the battle, a chance meeting afterwards. As if fate was drawing her to that flame, no matter what her belief of her responsibilities was. She’d fought it, for a time, wiping her starry eyes and rejecting the moments as they presented themselves. She’d even outright avoided him, for a time, but that soon grew unbearable in its own right.
And so, though she acknowledged the risks it brought and the danger it may bring, Ladybug soon enough found herself truly getting closer to Adrien Agreste. She’d kept things as casual as she could, those late night reflections helping her in hiding her blush as they got to know each other by what felt less and less like chance. She’d maintained her public facing persona of city savior with him, her mask something of a shield for her truest feelings - until there was a time they may come out.
There were a few slips here and there as they bonded. Her hand atop his after a brief battle saw him emerge from the crowd in a huff and ask her to ice cream. His along her waist as they admired the city from a great height above. And maybe she’d held him a bit tighter than she needed to when she’d see him home, but things had stayed quite firmly platonic - at least on the surface - as this friendship bloomed.
It was closer to him than she’d ever expected to be, in any facet of her life. There was much she’d already known about him from beneath her mask, yet so much she’d learned with it on. His flavor for all things sweet, from caramel coffees to honey laced teas. His habits and hobbies, one recent that saw him purposefully mismatch his socks as a subtle rebellion of the life he’d been made to live and one of a penchant for imported model kits he’d kept hidden within his bedroom.
The first time she had been properly invited into his home, Ladybug had been timid and hesitant. It felt almost wrong to do so without some threat chasing them or one to be chased, yet Adrien had opened his window and insisted she join him on the couch. And Ladybug found it difficult to deny such a warmly spoken request. That evening was the calmest she’d had in some time, sitting side by side with him as the sun set just beyond the glass of his bedroom.
It all went so well that the initial fears and worries she’d faced melted away in time, easing and tapering off in her mind as she reveled in his friendship. Ladybug, however, should have known better. She cursed herself for the longest time for not preparing for the worst, for not having some plan in place. But then, who in Paris could have foreseen the revelation that Monarch, her longtime and quite mortal enemy, had been Gabriel Agreste all along?
Her friendship with Adrien had proved every bit as dangerous as she’d once feared when, while spending time with him under the cover of and otherwise random night, she’d happened to wander. The mansion otherwise unoccupied that evening, his father as absent as ever on some trip across the country and his assistant having walked out on him some time ago, she’d grown curious. Not because she sensed some conspiracy or even still had Gabriel as a suspect, but because she was simply curious. She’d not had much time to acquaint herself with the Agreste’s halls, and with Adrien slipping away for a shower yet insisting she stay, she had to preoccupy herself somehow.
That led her into Gabriel’s atelier, the door having been left open just a crack and her curiosity getting the better of her. Inside she found a gorgeous painting of Adrien’s supposedly departed mother and found herself struck by awe. Adrien had once told her that she’d shared his mother’s eyes and, staring at the portrait, she only felt more flattered at the comparison - even if she didn’t quite see it herself.
What she did see, however, was something strange. The painting seemed clad with impressions, as if someone had been touching it. She’d narrowed her eyes and studied what she saw, realizing them to be proper buttons. Ladybug hesitated when she raised her hand, and came to wish she’d stepped away then and there. Instead, however, driven by that curiosity and the belief that she could tell which was pressed first and which came last, she hadn’t been sure would work yet one she tried anyway - a mimic of motion that stemmed from years of studying the fashion mogul himself.
Unfortunately, through sheer luck or otherwise, it did.
Ladybug’s breath hitched as she found herself being brought down through the floor, the podium housing something of an elevator that led her into some basement Adrien had never mentioned. It didn’t take her reaching the ground again before she realized what she could see. Hundreds of moths, scattered throughout the room, and a walkway leading to a pod. She’d zipped her way across with her yoyo to find Emilie Agreste within, and her jaw dropped in horror as it all clicked into place.
Gabriel Agreste had been Hawk Moth, he was Monarch. The moths, his akuma, and his comatose wife his now all too obvious goal. It all made too much sense, nearly sending Ladybug into a panic attack. She’d staved it off that evening, for Adrien’s sake, but made her leave quickly after she’d ascended from the room, wishing Adrien a good night without so much as looking him in the eye and insisting that she was okay when asked, even when she wasn’t.
The information infuriated her for so many reasons. That he’d been under her nose for years, that he’d lied to her face. More so, it upset her deeply that he’d taken on such a villainous role despite the son of his she’d loved so much. The pain it would have brought Adrien to discover what she had would have been unbearable, surely. And she so badly wanted to save him from that, to silently deal with the truth in her own way that might protect him.
Yet, in the end, she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to Adrien to hide such a horror, no matter how horrible it was. There was no chance that Monarch would go quietly and simply launching an assault on Gabriel Agreste seemed foolish at best. She’d stewed on the truth for days, weeks even as she wondered what she may do to save the day for everyone - so that she may spare Adrien, but put an end to the senseless violence Monarch wrecked upon Paris all the same
It burned so deeply at her and for so long. She’d continued stopping the akumas he’d unleash alongside her partner all the while, hoping desperately that what she’d seen hadn’t been true. Trying to convince herself it was a dream, a hallucination of some wicked sort. For a time she believed herself wrong simply because of a lack of retaliation from Monarch, herself sure he’d not leave his home so unsecured that she could slip in as she did even while he was gone.
In one of the few times she’d talked to him since her discovery, though, Adrien inadvertently revealed that he’d long since learned how to turn the surveillance in the house off. He’d done so for the sake of some privacy, his desire to live a more normal, less controlled life having once driven him to look for the tools that kept him trapped and disable what he found . He’d no idea of the basement, however, and no idea that his need for personal freedom had effectively revealed Monarch’s identity.
And so Ladybug languished over what to do, knowing what she knew and certain that it was true. Taking it straight to Adrien felt impossible, though he deserved to know far more than anyone else. Yet she wasn’t about to storm Agreste mansion and make the man fess up some other way, though she surely could, while taking Gabriel from Adrien - for however absent and damaging a presence as he was - didn’t feel right of her to do. There seemed no way of averting total disaster, and suddenly her so alluring flame felt so far out of reach.
To protect him, Ladybug had to cut Adrien off. To cut him out. At least for the time being, while she strategized and tried to find a way around this crisis. But there was none, for however thoroughly she searched and thought and planned, no matter how many sleepless nights and restless days she went through. There seemed only one way to face up to the truth, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Chat?” Ladybug finally turned to her partner on some late patrol, itself far removed from her initial revelation.
“Hm?” Chat turned to her, inquisitive and dependable as always. “What is it, my lady?”
“If you knew who Monarch was,” She slowly asked him, watching her words carefully. “What would you do?”
“You have to ask?” Chat chuckled softly. “I’d kick him in the ribs and slap the cuffs on him, myself. If there'd be anything left to slap cuffs onto, of course.”
Ladybug mustered a slight, anxious smile as she tried to reframe her question. “I mean, y’know, what would you do if he…was close to you? Like a…brother, or an uncle?”
“I…hm.” Chat propped himself up on his staff and laced a few fingers along his chin in contemplation. “That…does make it a little more complicated, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I, ah, I’ve just been thinking a lot lately.” Ladybug slipped her feet from beneath herself as she sat along the edge of the rooftop. “About who he might be, er, not that I think he’s, uh, related to me or anything.”
Chat again gently laughed while he teased. “Oh yeah? You sure he’s not some…grandpa, or a stepfather?”
“Well,” Chat took a seat next to her, further pondering her question aloud. “I guess I…don’t really know, bugaboo. I’ve never considered the possibility, to be honest.”
“Right.” Ladybug lowly sighed. “It’s just a stupid question, anyway.”
“I don’t think it is.” Chat briefly shook his head. “It’s important to think about, I mean, what if he were your dad this whole time? What if he were mine?”
“It’d..." Ladybug said, after a moment's pause. "It'd be scary.”
“Yeah.” Chat nodded to her. “And I’d probably be mad, y’know, at him. Like, really mad.”
Ladybug nodded along, easing her head against his arm.
“But I don’t know.” Chat continued. “It’d be a lot to take in, I…I’d hope I could do what was right.”
“Of course,” Ladybug agreed, aimlessly staring out at the night-swept Paris. “Whatever that'd be.”
Chat quietly hummed and leaned his weight against her in turn, the two resting together atop this random roof. Ladybug felt numb as the gentle wind of the evening crossed along the spandex of her suit, her mind still preoccupied and so terribly loud, constant echoes of the truth reverberating through her every thought. That was why she said no more, deeming any sort of continued rambling far too much a risk to indulge in no matter how comforting it was to talk to someone else about what she knew - even if they didn’t.
Of course, her partner had no idea as to the right answer to her query - she’d had none, either. Yet all the same, broaching the subject did help her find some ease and, as far as she could believe, some understanding on how Adrien might react. He’d surely be furious, more so than she was, but what else may happen to that beloved flame of hers? The one she’d grown so close to, that she’d bonded and bloomed with?
She’d only just briefly been his friend, in the grand scheme, and now faced the impossible choice of robbing him of his only remaining parent or denying him the truth he deserved. Ladybug knew this self torture unhealthy, that she needed an outlet - she needed to end the madness. Her fingers curled around the concrete of the rooftop’s edge as she resolved to tell Adrien what she knew, and take it from there.
“Thank you, Chat.” Ladybug stated as she stood upright.
“I don't think I did much, but, ah,” Chat joined her on his feet with a bow in her direction and a kiss to the back of her wrist. “It’s my pleasure, my lady.”
The two shared a warm smile as she prepared to depart, grabbing her yoyo from her waist and stepping towards the other side of the roof. It wasn’t the solution she’d wanted, though perhaps none such existed. Nothing could spare Adrien pain, in this situation, but she could at least afford him the agency he’d so badly lacked across his life. He’d be told the truth, and they’d face whatever came next together.
Ladybug finally, for what felt like the first time since that fateful night, exhaled. Determination befell her brow as she stepped to the ledge and swallowed, rearing her arm back and looking for some space at which to aim. A target in her sights and a tender, caring purpose swelling in her chest, Ladybug prepared herself for the leap of faith that would follow both physically, and mentally.
Until, suddenly, Chat Noir spoke again.
“Ladybug, wait.” His voice stopped her cold.
Ladybug turned to him, uncertain and curious. “What is it, kitty?”
Chat stood feet behind her, a look of quiet trepidation on his face. He only stared at her, the blood drained from his expression the longer he stared at her. Ladybug felt her heart rate jump as she stared right back, anxiety setting in the longer it took him to reply. Chat fumbled on his words some, struggled to speak in coherence while taking a few steps closer to her, almost afraid of what he was about to say - though he said it anyway.
“Do you know who Monarch is?”
Ladybug's eyes went wide and her jaw gently dropped as she processed what had been asked - and realized there was no way of avoiding an honest answer. No deflection he'd buy, no good reason to lie to her partner no matter how badly she'd wanted to in that moment, if only to face it all later once Adrien had a chance to know. Once he'd have a chance to help her, to aid in figuring out some way to deal with the horrible, impossible situation she'd stumbled into.
Then, her yoyo clattering against the rooftop after she'd dropped it, Ladybug stepped to Chat Noir's chest and found herself in his embrace as she came to sob against his leather.
Marinette awakens from a rather typical night with a cup of tea to help the grogginess as she sits down at her desk and turns on her computer. What she finds is a recently updated Ladyblog that features pictures of Ladybug from a time she most certainly wasn't awake at - that she doesn't even remember. What was she doing out and about at such an hour? How did she manage to suit up, and why does it seem as if Ladybug was on her way to the Agreste Mansion?
AO3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marinette rubbed at her eyes, groggily outstretching herself as she used her foot to stop her desk chair from spinning. She'd barely felt awake from the time it took her to brush her teeth to her preparing the cup of vanilla orange tea that sat now sat on her desk, still steaming. The warm aroma the only thing convincing her to cling to consciousness as the picture of her monitor screen slowly faded on.
A few sips saw her sit more properly in her chair and a proper swig frees the last yawn of the morning. She checks emails first, nothing beyond some already read messages from some commissioners and the odd spam mail attempting to steal some password. Unfortunately for them, Marinette can spot a typo from a mile away even at her most exhausted and she's quite positive that Netflicks isn't spelled with an X.
Business as usual sees her cup reach about half full, her day off to as slow a start as it can be. With some time to spare, her late night working on costumes already paying off, she decides to open her browser and hit the L key. The tap of her enter button sends her to the Ladyblog, a place she'd found herself somewhat conflicted over as of late.
On one hand, the website had most certainly been something of a force for good. That she'd inspired something that helped to spread such kindness and hope throughout the city had truly left her speechless. It also, on more than one occasion, provided her with a solid confidence boost after a few particularly rough days.
On the other, though, it almost felt like she was googling herself when she looked over the headlines. She always felt just a bit flustered by even simply glancing over the posts that often cheered her on. It was run by her best friend, too, which might cause some conflict of interest should it ever come up in a serious manner.
But on an early enough morning like this with little else to do, there didn't feel much harm in giving it a casual browse. The page loaded a bit slowly and allowed her the chance to take another sip of her drink as the most recent images appear.
The banner came up first, a few of the more generic and pre-planned images too. She went past a poll ranking famous Parisians that had Adrien just shy of Chat Noir, with Ladybug at the top. Marinette took another drink, almost finished with her cup as her attention was slowly grabbed. A headline, one published just around an hour or so ago, had her raise an eyebrow.
"Ladybug's Late Night!"
Marinette glanced around her room and hummed slightly. She'd had a late night but not one that involved much spandex, beyond some purple shades meant for Juleka anyway. It felt unlikely that the images themselves would be old, too, as that wouldn't make much sense for a segment tagged "Daily Bug-date".
Normally, Marinette might have brushed this whole thing off. Maybe it was just another case of a really good cosplayer. Mistaken identity is something of a frequent occurrence when you're an anonymous superhero most all of the city - save the odd, presumably old man - loves, after all.
She shook her head as she tried to convince herself to believe something so simple but two things stuck out at her. The first was that whoever this was had somehow managed to climb to a very much unsafe for cosplayers height. The other, and perhaps more major thing, was that whoever that might be had somehow ended up almost perched on the tallest tree just outside of the Agreste Mansion.
The odds of someone else just happening to dress up like Ladybug in the middle of the night and hover over Agreste Mansion were more than a bit slim. It wasn't exactly an unpopular place, but then she realized just how high up the person was. Such height at which the figure stood in the following image told Marinette all she needed to know.
That wasn't someone else, it was her.
She nearly fell out of her chair as it set in, itself spinning in place as she briefly freaked out. A somewhat delayed reaction as her thoughts scattered and and possible consequences of this quickly loomed large in her mind. Then, she grabbed the end of her desk with both hands and made herself settle.
No, no, that was certainly not her. Marinette shook her head more wildly. She must be mistaken in the location, though she easily recognizes the streets and scenery around it. Hard to mistake that mansion, too. Perhaps it was a trick of perspective, then. Marinette opened the images into other tabs and tilted her head around some, zooming in and out to see if that was the case. When that failed, she started to try and convince herself it was just an outright Photoshop.
It wasn't, though. Deep down she knew that much. What the Ladyblog had uploaded, what she was looking at, was herself stood tall above the Agreste Mansion at the earliest hours of the day.
Slowly she sank down into her chair in disbelief. There was no memory of such a thing and while the blur caused by the distance at which the pictures were taken gave her some slight hope that this wasn't what it looked like, it was hard for her to deny that it was.
That's when it dawned on her that there was, in fact, one way of getting a solid answer she couldn't deny despite how badly she wanted to. She reached for her phone, pulling it free from the charger and immediately hit up speed dial. The following time between her pressing call and when the other end finally picked up felt like an eternity.
"Hey girl." Alya's voice was cheerful despite her mild yawn. "What's up?"
"I, uh..." Marinette rolled her lower lip between her teeth. "I was kinda hoping you could tell me, Alya."
Silence fell over the call for a moment, then broke with a subtle humming from Alya's end. "I think you'll need to be more specific."
"The pictures!" Marinette couldn't help herself but exclaim, settling down just as quickly. "Er, on the blog, from this morning. Where did you get those?"
"Ohhh, those! Well, like most pictures I don't take myself, people just sorta sent them in." Alya explained. "I guess I should ask what you were doing, huh?"
"Well, that's the thing..." Marinette paused to try and figure out how to explain herself.
"Sneaking over to Adrien's to borrow some...sugar, eh?" Alya interrupted, giggling as she spoke. "Just being a friendly neighbor?"
"Alya!" Marinette felt her face warm up. "No, no, I wasn't doing that. I, we, we've only even met a few times. I mean he's only met Ladybug a few times now. A couple dozen, maybe, but, er-"
"Marinette, girl," Alya's voice helped settle her flustered nerves. "Relax. I was just messing with you.
"I know, I know." Marinette put her head in her free hand and sank forward in her seat.
"What were you doing there, though?" Alya asked again, this time staying quiet to give her friend the chance to speak.
"That's what I was trying to say, Alya," Marinette looked back up at her screen. "I don't know. I...I don't remember doing any of this."
"Wait, what?" Alya's tone shifted to one of worry. "What do you mean? Like, were you under mind control or something?"
"No, there weren't any Akuma attacks last night...that I know of." Marinette shook her head. "But, no, I don't think it was that. I...I might have been sleepwalking."
"Sleepwalking?" Alya questioned. "I've known you for how long, and I don't know if I've ever heard you even mention sleepwalking. You have some secret history I don't know?"
"Er, not really," Marinette's chair spun lightly. "Maybe a time or two when I was younger, but..."
Alya could be heard clicking and tapping at her own keyboard. "And that's not nearly enough for you to transform and go swinging through the streets."
"Yeah, I don't think I could without-" Marinette paused and lowered her phone, looking herself over briefly. She tried to feel her every inch, touching at her arms and legs. Once she thankfully felt no paint, she finished her thought. "Uh, without hurting myself."
"Right, you are pretty good at it nowadays though. I bet you could do it in your sleep." Alya said, audibly putting her phone between her head and her shoulder.
"That's-" Marinette scoffed, briefly appreciating the compliment. "Not quite comforting, but thank you."
Sleepwalking wasn't normally much of a serious issue as far as Marinette knew. Normal being something of a key word there, given just how unusual her life had been since she first put on the earrings. Someone like her with her abilities running around on autopilot could have dire consequences and it was her responsibility to prevent them.
"Okay," Alya brought her drifting thoughts back to reality. "Well, I did some digging around but I don't really know what might have triggered it. Were you thinking about Adrien before bed again?"
""When am I not." Marinette rolled her eyes, then realized what she'd muttered. "Er, no, not. I mean, not especially hard or anything. I do have to finish an outfit for his upcoming show, but..."
"But that wouldn't explain why Ladybug went over to his house at 2am." Alya said. "Or how you even transformed. Have you mumbled for it in the past?"
"Uh..." Marinette struggled to recount the number of times such a thing happened. "A few times, but usually it wakes me up."
"Okay, okay." Alya spoke as if she were looking a page over. "Well, sorry girl, but I think this might be out of my wheelhouse."
Marinette quizzically huffed. "Alright, thanks for trying, Alya."
"Of course. You need anything," Alya yawned through her reply. "Just give me a call."
"Were you..." Marinette's eyebrow raised. "Are you still in bed?"
"Yeah." Alya laughed. "I laid back down after the post went up, you actually woke me up again. That makes it twice today."
Marinette's head loudly met her desk.
"I'm sorry." She groaned as she pulled her phone back to her ear.
"Really, it's alright." Alya again gently chuckled. "Wish you luck on the sleepwalking thing!"
"Thanks." Marinette replied shortly before the call ended.
She was tempted to let her forehead collide with the desk again as she found herself with little progress and no leads. Never before in her growing history as Ladybug had such a thing happened, not that she was aware of at least. That she seems to have gone to see Adrien both in costume and in her sleep only served to darken the crimson that now illuminated her cheeks.
With a sigh, Marinette pushed her chair back and stood up. Finishing off the last sip or so that remained, she brings her spent cup with her as she turns towards the steps and heads for the kitchen, going for another drink. She's going to need it.
Along the stairs she passes Tikki floating by, herself yawning and fresh from a late breakfast of oversized cookies she purposefully took her time enjoying. Seeing the Kwami happily go by did help set her at ease, for a moment. Then she started to think, then think a little more. It's not until the tea pot ran dry that the pieces clicked into place and made Marinette's eyes go wide with an idea.
With haste, she darts back up the stairs, leaving her cup behind more out of the impulse than caution. She glances around her room when she returns before finding the Kwami all but ready to cuddle back in on her bed.
"Tikki!" Marinette's tone was that of a hushed proclamation as she clung to the side of her bed frame.
"What is it, Marinette?" Tikki replied with another half yawn, slowly rising up to meet her.
"Come here!" She said, releasing her grip and all but bounding back to her computer screen.
Tikki followed with some speed, looking over the monitor for a moment with a light hum in her throat. After soaking in the headline and the images Marinette took time to scroll over, Tikki tilted her head.
"What's...this about?" She hesitantly questioned.
"It-" Marinette felt almost feral, hands firmly on her head as she resisted the ever present urge to hold Tikki like a squeak toy. "I wasn't awake!"
"Oh..." Tikki glanced back at the screen, then to her holder. Only then did it process what exactly was going on. "Oh! Oh my!"
"Oh you is right! Er, at least, I think it was you...I hope it was?" Marinette's arms dropped to her sides slowly as she cleared her throat and composed herself before asking a more focused question. “Do you know anything about this?"
"It, um..." Tikki seemed almost bashful, an uncommon sight, not looking up from the floor.
"Tikki-" Marinette exhaled a steadying breath, kneeling down to meet the Kwami face to face as she earnestly asked. "Do you know what happened? Did you have anything to do with this?"
"I..." Tikki put her hands together in front of her small body, her eyes shut as she confessed. "I did, yes."
Marinette's eyebrow raised some, hand at hip as she continued her line of questioning. "Okay, that’s a relief. But...why? How?"
"Well, we've been doing this for long enough now that I'm..." Tikki searched for the right words, perking up as she found them. "Connected to your desires!"
"I-" Marinette felt her face getting hot, then shook her head. "We are not getting into that! Er, I mean, okay, okay. How did you do it?"
"Well, um, I was asleep too, actually." Tikki explained. "I've woken up the other times, but-"
"Other times!?" Marinette dropped to both knees. "This is a disaster!"
"No, no, Marinette-" Tikki continued. "I woke up those times, before we could get anywhere, it's just this time I was...really tired, so..."
Marinette was all but on all fours as she tilted her head up. "So...you were the one sleepwalking?"
"In a manner of speaking, I...I guess I was." Tikki spoke with words laced with shame, herself fully embarrassed.
Marinette rubbed her face with both hands and simply breathed for a moment. This was most certainly an issue, one she felt she should have been told about before now. But then, those previous times hadn't yielded anything damaging while this instance, as dangerous as it was, hadn't gone too poorly either. It was all something of a cause for concern but as she sat on her floor, she had the time to pause and think for the first time since she first woke up.
"Okay, it's...okay." Marinette composed herself, standing upright and gently cuddling her fingers around Tikki. "How many other times has this happened?"
"Only a few, erm, maybe once or twice." Tikki recalled, still flustered. "But, like I said, I woke up before we could get outside."
"That's good, of course." Marinette smiled. "But you should have told me, okay?"
"I know..." Tikki's eyes drifted lower again. "I just didn't think it was a big deal because I'd caught it, I didn't think it'd...get worse."
"It's alright." Marinette reassured with an understanding nod, then cleared her throat. "Now, how do we...make sure it doesn't happen again?"
"Well, that might be kind of tricky," Tikki floated up towards her eyeline. "Because either you have to stop having dreams about Adrien, or-
"I-I don't, I mean, it's not on purpose, it-" Marinette stammered, then settled. "Sorry, go on."
"Or," Tikki continued. "You'll have to stop being Ladybug so often, so, um..."
Marinette's face went somewhat flat, the second option hardly even that.
"Okay, so, how do I stop...having dreams about Adrien?" She genuinely asked, her cheeks a twinge of red again.
"You know the answer to that, Marinette." Tikki couldn't help a light chuckle.
"So what am I supposed to do? Just...walk up and tell Adrien, oh, hey Adrien, I've been dreaming about you for years, and-" She caught her breath. "oh, by the way, I'm Ladybug, too! So actually Ladybug's been dreaming about you for the last few years!/"
"That might make his day." Tikki said, mostly to herself.
"I can't just...do that, Tikki, I can't..." Marinette seemed to perk up, gently grabbing at Tikki out of sheer reaction to her own thought. "But Ladybug could."
"Oh?" Tikki questioned. "And how so?"
"Well, instead of sleepwalking, er, swinging? Bug...ging?" Marinette looked to Tikki, her expression one of uncertainty towards the naming convention, then continued with a steeled resolve. "I can go over to him while I’m actually conscious, late enough that no one would notice, and...talk to him about this, as best I can."
Tikki nodded after she came to understand, smiling wide as she repeated the sentiment. "As best you can!"
----------------------
With a plan in place, Marinette took her time setting it into action. Days and nights passed, up to a week or so before she found what could only be considered the courage to suit up after dark. While second thoughts and uncertainty plagued her mind as she swung through the city under the cover of night, Marinette knew that dealing with this issue head on was for the best and continued regardless.
It wasn't until she reached the Agreste mansion did she realize that Ladybug most certainly couldn't knock at the front door, not past midnight especially. So she looked around for any other possible entrances before deciding against breaking and entering. Before she abandoned her plan for the evening, if not entirely, something panged at her subconscious to do just as she intended - meet him head on.
Tapping at one of Adrien's large windows was harder than she'd expected, having to get her yo-yo just right to keep herself high enough to do so. Luckily for her, he hadn't gone to sleep yet and after watching him rub at his eyes for an overlong amount of time, he pointed her towards his bathroom before moving towards it himself.
Entering in through Adrien's bathroom wasn't something she expected to do nearly as often as she had at this point. That aside, she didn't say a word until they'd returned to his bedroom proper where Ladybug put both hands at her hips as she stood illuminated in moonlight. What might have seemed as something of a show of confidence was more just her putting her thoughts back together.
"So, uh..." Adrien gave a nervous chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Hi, Ladybug, what can I...help you with?"
"Hello, Adrien, I-" Ladybug scoffed into her hand, her voice just a bit too squeaky at first. "I'm Ladybug."
Adrien's eyebrow raised as her words sat for a moment. Then a few seconds longer. Then it finally set in that she, Ladybug, arguably the most famous person in Paris, just introduced herself to arguably the third most famous person in Paris according to that Ladyblog ran poll a week or so ago.
"Um, you knew that," Ladybug tried not to act as flustered as she was. "Sorry, I mean...I need to talk to you. It's nothing serious, just..."
Adrien seemed to be beaming, a wide smile covered in a tinge of crimson as he fidgeted some.
"Of course, er," He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, settling on putting them in the pockets of his somewhat flattering red and black themed PJ pants. "What's up?"
Ladybug swallowed, her stern - if barely held together - expression easing up. She slightly leaned closer towards him, reaching for his wrists until he got the idea. His hands in hers, she used the mild squeeze he gave as a means of compelling herself forward.
"Okay, this...might sound kind of weird, but, Adrien," Ladybug looked up with a gentle look to her narrowed eyes, crimson staining her cheeks to match the red of her mask as she confessed, "I've been having dreams about you."
Adrien, having spent months reeling from the fallout of a fateful wish, finds himself at a breaking point - and so too has Emilie.
AO3
hi. so uh I’ve been going thru it lately and for some reason my brain went back to my old wip for a follow up to this lil story. idk why but part of me always wanted to go back and get to the happy ending I had planned so. here’s me getting to work at that
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It wasn’t fair.
What Marinette had done was kind, her sacrifice a kindness far more than he’d ever believed himself deserving of. What she’d surrendered to ensure his life one of happiness and joy again was so much beyond what he’d ever ask from her. A wish, made suddenly, that returned his mother after so much time was wasted trying other means of saving her, and left the miracle box without an owner - a life for a set of memories.
And perhaps that’s why she had done it without question much question, using their miraculous in what would be a final effort to return him to the way he always should have been, a lasting gesture of her love for him before that cursed mystical box stole her away from both himself and the world as a whole, leaving her a relatively blank slate forever toiling away in the bakery, itself expanded into an outright café of sorts, she’d once been set to inherit.
But it wasn’t fair. For however loving it was, whatever her always well meaning intent, it wasn’t fair. No, it was outright wrong that Marinette had to give up her memories - had to give up herself - as a final mark to a life thrust upon the both of them. That she did so for him, that she’d said as much in the note she’d left within the miracle box she’d willingly surrendered, it only made the loss sting him all the more.
It remained so clear in his mind. The two standing before the chamber within which his mother had remained for so long, herself stolen away in her own way. Ladybug’s mask fell as she palmed his cheek with tears down her own. She’d swiped the ring off his finger before he’d noticed and, though he tried, he couldn’t stop what was in motion. A crackling flash, a blisteringly bright light. And Marinette, as she was, had gone.
At first, Adrien had been furious. At Marinette, his mother, himself. Anger seeped into everything he did, it threatened to overwhelm him - and it may have, if not for the gentle, tender touch of a mother, gone far too long. Emilie had apologized profusely for all that had happened in her absence, for what Gabriel had done in her name. Yet she wore the same sort of guilt Adrien had come to wear so well himself.
Time tempered his emotions, though not entirely. The nights were long, days made all the harder by his increasingly frequent insistence in going to that bakery. He needed to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was safe. But it hurt him all the more, each time she spoke his name and playfully repeated what had been his usual order of some caramel drink accompanied by some fresh macaroons.
And though he settled into this routine, as unhealthy as it was, Adrien hardly stopped looking into ways of recovering what was lost. That the miracle box would take her memories one day, when the inevitable happened and she was made to renounce it was a fact the two had come to share and one he’d once believed they’d find some way out of, together.
Marinette had been less convinced, according to her letter. She’d written somber words of failing to see another way, of insisting that she do the best she could now that the box was to be sealed away from those who would use it for harm. Marinette, in what would be her final hour, proved herself every bit the hero she’d always been and then some. She had saved his mother from an eternity in suspended animation and, in a way, saved Adrien himself.
For without Emilie by his side, the odds of Adrien spiraling would surely have been higher than they already were. But the task of reacclimating her with a world that had moved on had proved distracting enough - for a time. Emilie was, after long trips across the world and a plethora of public appearances, back among the living again, her cover story of some unfortunate accident that her imprisoned husband had misconstrued to the public at large being mostly accepted.
Of course, behind the more glamorous scenes of her return to the world, Emilie was working harder than she ever had to try and alleviate the worries and frustrations that plagued her son. It didn’t take her much to realize just how much this Marinette had come to mean to him in the years since she’d vanished, pictures lining the mansion’s walls telling a near perfect story - from an early meeting to one just a few nights before the fateful day that wiped her mind.
Emilie had found herself admiring them, the pictures truly saying hundreds of words each time she studied them. The smile on Adrien’s face, the one Marinette wore to match. It was obvious just how perfect they were for each other, just as it was obvious how much her sacrifice weighed on her son. So, as she had once her feet were firmly back on the ground, Emilie had resolved to help him find some way around this mystical curse.
His mother knew more than he’d expected, a repository as much as the grimoire he’d been left with was. Finding out that all of this had stemmed from some chance adventure between herself, Nathalie and his fallen father did once burn at Adrien. Yet that sting faded with time just the same, the nature of destiny - if such a thing existed - one he opted to ignore in his constant research into finding some way of restoring Marinette without the cost everything warned him of.
Countless nights had been spent with his face to the pages of ancient texts, scrolling whatever few things he could find relating to the miraculous online that didn’t include himself and his now long lost lady. The days, when not preoccupied by some business with what had temporarily become his company, weren’t much different. Hour after hour was used and, ultimately, wasted in the hopes of turning back time.
Now, Adrien sat in what was once his father’s study, surrounded by books that served him no purpose with no idea of where else to turn. The sun had just gone down, or perhaps it had been down for some time now. His sense of time had been growing more uncertain as of late, himself unrelenting in his hope of saving the one who’d saved him. Nothing else mattered to him, nothing as important as Marinette.
Emilie had stood in the doorway for some time, motionless as she admired the child she’d been taken from. He’d turned into everything she could have hoped for and then some, though the way he threw himself into this seemingly endless trove of research without regard for how futile it was caused her to ache all the same. Her family had long since been broken by the miraculous, and even now suffered from what had been far more powerful than any of them knew how to handle.
“Adrien,” Emilie finally spoke up, a sigh to her voice as she entered the room to try and usher him into rest. “Sweetheart, you…”
She’d lost the ability to speak as she approached him, hand at his shoulder as words failed. Her touch, thankfully, did not. Adrien’s shoulders dropped and his body relaxed, a prolonged exhale out from his pursed lips draining his lungs before he finally turned towards her. Eyes reddened, faint black marks around them, his exhaustion was evident - a stark contrast to how he’d continued to present himself to the world, his anguish hidden by makeup and well practiced smiles.
“It’s not right,” Adrien gently repeated a sentiment he’d long since shared with his mother as he sat the miraculous tome aside. “Mom, it’s…it’s not fair.”
“I know, baby,” Emilie’s face dropped from the grin she’d tried to hold. “But we’ll keep looking, we can-”
Adrien entangled himself around her, squeezing his mother tightly as tears welled and his teeth grit in frustration. Emilie held him back just as tight after a moment, pulling him closer as his quiet sobs stained the fabric of her shirt. She let out a breath of her own, hand along her son’s back - where it should have been, during all those lost years between them. The two clung to one another until Adrien slunk himself from the chair, ending up on his knees with his fingers twitching at his side.
“There’s nothing.” Adrien lamented, eyes on the flooring beneath him. “I’ve searched and searched, I’ve read everything there is to read.”
“We’ll find something, Adrien,” Emilie reassured, though her tone wasn’t as firm as she’d have liked. “There must be something, some way.”
“There’s not, mom!” Adrien stood up, shoving the grimoire from the table. “There’s…There’s only the wish.”
“You know the cost that brings.” Emilie showed no hesitation in reminding him.
“Then…then I’ll pay it.” Adrien gripped at the sides of his head. “No one else, just me.”
“And Marinette?” Emilie took him by the shoulder again, tensing her fingers against him. “How would she feel, knowing you took her place?”
“She…” Adrien dropped his arms to his sides, regretting his words - but only for a moment. “She’d find a way, she…she always does.”
“But you said there is no other way,” Emilie felt it necessary to argue, her palm flattening along his back. “You’d be leaving her with the same situation she’d left you with.”
“I know, I know! Okay, but she…” Adrien sank to his knees with a sharp inhale, another sob in his throat. “It’s not fair, mom.”
“It’s not, Adrien,” Emilie knelt down with him as she rubbed her thumbs along his shoulders. “What this world did to you, to the both of you…what I did to you.”
“It’s not your fault, mom.” Adrien shook his head. “You couldn’t have known-”
“We meddled in things greater than us,” Emilie interrupted him to explain. “Myself, your father, Nathalie - we did this to you.”
“No.” Adrien again rejected her belief. “It’s…the box, the box did this to us.”
Emilie’s expression softened as she glanced to one side of the room, at a skewed book. “Maybe it did, sweetheart, but you…you can’t just…take her place. That’s not what she’d want.”
“She…” Adrien perked up some, her memory encouraging a subtle smile. “She wanted me to be happy, but...”
“How can you, without her?” Emilie smiled back at him as she stood upright and offered him a hand. “We’ll find a way to get her back, Adrien.”
Adrien wiped his face with his arm, then took her hand. “Right, right, just…need to keep digging.”
“You need to rest,” Emilie corrected him. “You’ve been in here since you woke up.”
“Er, yeah, I…” Adrien, with a slight, embarrassed blush, stood up with her help. “Alright.”
“Get some sleep, dear, please,” Emilie continued, a hand along his back as she guided him towards the door. “And I’ll see what I can find while you do.”
“But-” Adrien looked past her at first, then relented with a gentle nod. “Okay, mom, I…I love you.”
Emilie placed a tender, warm kiss at the top of his head. “I love you too, Adrien.”
Though slow and reluctant at first, Adrien did honor his word and backed away from the room after some hesitation. Relying on a few, steadying breaths, he turned himself around and made for his oft abandoned bedroom, glancing back over at his shoulder as his mother nodded him on until she couldn’t see him anymore. With Adrien out of sight, Emilie sighed as she shut the study door and stepped back into the room.
Her eyes stared at the books that littered one of the cases, settling on the one just so slightly smaller and skewed from the rest. She tugged on it, setting off some contraption that whirred and creaked until a trap door of sorts gave way. Inside of it, the familiar shape of the miracle box was found, sat undisturbed and just as her son had left it.
Emilie then walked to where Adrien had been sitting and placed the box down on the table next to the same chair she then occupied. Left alone without so much as a breeze against the narrow window, she stared at the so-called miracle box with sharp, unflinching eyes. She studied it, the engravings and octagonal shape. But she didn’t open it, though her fingers neared the wood that made up the top before she’d noticed it.
She couldn’t tell him, not to his face and certainly not as he’d been, but Emilie knew full well the truth of the matter. That there was no other way of repairing what was broken, of what had been stolen by the magic she’d long since stumbled into. Emilie stared at the box with complete awareness of the fact that, should her son ever live the life he truly wanted, there was only one method of fixing things.
Emilie, after some time, reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She swiped her fingers a few times, tapped the screen and watched as it faded out, then lit back up with a familiar face on the screen. Placing the device to her ear, she waited as the other end presumably, hopefully rang. Then she leaned back once her call was finally picked up.
“Nathalie, I’m sorry, I know it’s late.” She gently spoke, resting her hand to her forehead.
“It’s alright, Emilie.” Nathalie’s voice reassured her despite a subtle yawn. “What do you need?”
“I need…I need you to join me in the study,” Emilie explained, a quiet determination to her tone as she glared at the box. “It’s about Adrien.”
Ladybug blinked, then slowly started to lean over. She let her mind quickly run through the string of words Chat Noir had muttered a few times to ensure she’d heard him correctly. It didn’t quite help things as much as she’d hoped, however.
“What if you what?” She asked for further clarity, eyebrow thoroughly raised.
“I mean-” Chat stalled, almost immediately flustered by the comment he’d barely registered. “Like, you ever wonder what would happen if someone ate an akuma?”
“Yeah, yeah, I just, y’know, sometimes I, uh...” Chat rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, been spending too much time online lately.”
Ladybug gave a cautious, curious smile and then just as cautiously started to look away. There was a brief consideration of what exactly it was he did online, then decided she wasn’t sure she wanted to know that much. So she allowed it to drop.
Then her mind started to wander on the subject.
“Can you?” She leaned back on her hands, unable to help herself.
“Huh?” Chat perked back up. “Whaddya mean?”
“No, like, they go through stuff, right?” Ladybug’s brow furrowed. “They’re not solid so you can’t really eat them.”
“Oh yeah, I guess that’s true.” Chat nodded, thumb at his chin. “But I could swear I’ve seen them land before, or at least touch stuff, so they have to be solid sometimes, yeah?”
“Maybe? I guess.” Her mind drifted further. “Do you think he like, creates them?”
“Or does he just...breed magical butterflies?” Chat added, clearly having gone down this thought process himself already. “I don’t know. I’d assume it was just his power, but...”
“You’d think.” Ladybug shifted her head forward.
“I mean, what about you?” Chat turned himself towards her, crossing a leg over the other. “Your power is the lucky charm, right? What about the cure? Are those real ladybugs? Do you have a ladybug nest somewhere?”
Ladybug stared at him in consideration for a moment, her eyes drifting out over the city the longer she thought. “No, they’re not real ladybugs, they’re just...like a magical wave that fixes everything, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Chat fixed his posture and let it sit for a moment. “Do people feel it, though? Like, the ladybugs? I’ve never thought about it until now, but-”
“Stop.” Ladybug shut her eyes and waved her hand in front of her face. “I’m just, I just...I will choose not to think about it.”
“Okay, okay.” Chat softly chuckled, leaning back with his eyes closed. “I bet they’re secretly crunchy, though. Akumas, I mean.”
“No way, they’re definitely smo-” Ladybug stopped herself with a shake of her head and resolved not to engage. “Let’s just...enjoy the night off, yeah?”
“I think I can do that.” Chat snickered, exhaling as his eyes drifted from the moon to hers. “Wanna go get some ice cream?”
Ladybug lightly giggled along with him as she stared back. “So long as it’s not the crunchy kind.”
“Some people like the crunch.” Chat playfully chomped his jaw as he got to his feet, then extended a hand to help his partner get to hers.
“And just like that,” Ladybug smiled as she took his hand and got herself upright, her opposite hand properly on her hip. “You’re paying.”
