A Run In Autumn

Written for @peakwonderfulness ! It wouldn't let me gift to you on AO3 for some reason, but thank you so much for this! I had fun writing it! :)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
Pairing: Ladynoir
Summary: On her morning run, Marinette spies someone who reminds her too much of Chat Noir. When she falls, he offers her a hand, and realizes that really is her partner- and he recognizes her as Ladybug.

AO3

_

The air nips at her nose as she runs, the cool autumn wind making Marinette glad she chose to bundle up that morning. In a ladybug-spotted hat that Alya had gotten her the previous year, and a new, bright red jacket that her parents had gotten her to match it, she was perfectly warm enough to run without much fear of catching cold. Plus it was sunny out, when it'd been storming the last week- she didn't want to waste it, nor the opportunity to wear the sunglasses she'd made again.

Taking a path outside of her usual running route, she was hoping to find something to inspire her next fashion project. Autumn was one of her favorite times to find inspiration in the way the colors of the trees change, how the warm colors contrast with the cool air, how people begin to change into warmer clothes while trying to hold onto the heat of the summer a little while longer.

It wasn't hard to keep an eye out as she ran; her time as Ladybug made her more vigilant than ever. For the first leg of her run, she made a mental note of different things: couples wearing matching outfits, the few people who properly blended summer and autumn attire, the colors of the city and how the late morning light danced on them. 

It's only halfway through her run that she notices him.

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Viperion knew something was wrong the moment he saw the way Ladybug acted around Flairmidable. It was all too familiar to him: the single string strummed and tuned over and over in an attempt to make music while the other strings remained inaccessible. The only explanation was that she believed that Flairmidable was Adrien, but it couldn’t be, and it was even Adrien himself - having stood there silently while Wishmaker shot him - that’d made Viperion know as much.

It hadn’t made sense to him at first, wondering who could look so convincingly like Adrien, until he remembered the day everyone had tried to send Adrien videos that wished him well. A fake had responded to them, and he had indeed looked just like Adrien, with even the voice being similar.

But Viperion couldn’t out what he knew in front of everyone, and asking Ladybug for time aside would come off as suspicious. Chat Noir was also not in a good mood upon seeing Flairmidable - something that would have to be thought about at a later time - and Viperion wasn’t eager to push any buttons. He hadn’t ticked the bangle either, having wanted to wait until Ladybug had a plan in place.

It seemed he’d have to improvise.

“Flairmidable, is it?” he asked.

Flairmidable met his gaze, giving him a brief once-over that came off innocent but was far too observant to be Adrien’s. “That’s right. It’s nice to meet you officially, Viperion.”

Viperion caught Ladybug staring at him confusedly, but pretended not to notice. “This is a big battle we’re about to have. Are you sure a new hero like you can handle it?”

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one.

- the first time chat noir dies, he doesn’t even notice. 

he’s flung a hundred feet into a solid brick wall before everything goes dark. he wakes up in a hospital bed with a sheet over his face and ladybug crying by his bedside.

two. 

- the second time chat noir dies, it’s slow enough for him to realize what death tastes like. 

it floods his mouth, stains his teeth, and numbs his tongue so he can’t find the words to call out for help. it’s sweet enough to make him want to swallow it back and keep fighting, but his stomach won’t let him keep it down and forces him to suffer through the aftertaste that makes his head swim and his vision grow spotty. it drips down his throat and spills past his lips. he wants to be rid of it, but it hurts him to let it go. he wants to stand, but it’s much easier to slip to the ground and sleep. 

maybe he doesn’t taste death. maybe it’s just the blood filling his mouth. 

three. 

- the third time chat noir dies, plagg sits him down and explains that this isn’t immortality. 

adrien listens as he lifts his shirt and stares at the scar today’s bullet wound gave him as a token of his sacrifice. all this time he thought his powers of chaos and destruction had also gifted him a mastery over death. more importantly, he thought he had the opportunity to shut his eyes to fear and be the shield ladybug deserved. she is creation, hope, and life. a light like hers doesn’t deserve to be suffocated before she has a chance to enchant the rest of the world. 

but magic doesn’t make him invincible, and his chivalry has a time limit.

four. 

- the fourth time chat noir dies, he begins to keep track so he doesn’t lose count. 

he marks his deaths in sharpie marker right over his heart so he doesn’t forget who he’s dying for. 

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“I know we talked about how you don’t want to belong to someone,” Adrien starts, wrapping the ribbon over and over at the end of Noire’s braid, “And you don’t. You don’t belong to me— and— I’m— I’m not— I’m not someone you love. This isn’t me trying to claim ownership of you— I’m— I’m not like that.”

If only he knew. If only he knew how much she wishes to tell him the truth— about how she wishes to belong to him— but her mouth refuses to budge, watching his long and nimble fingers move the bell over so he can continue looping the ribbon.

If she asks him, right now, to who he belongs to, he would say himself. If she were ever asked, she’d say that she belonged to nobody— but would always be on the lookout, hopeful that Adrien would say otherwise.

“But I read somewhere that you put bells on cats when you think they’ve found a forever home.” His mouth quirks to the side as he lifts her braid high enough to let the ribbon jingle. “And I want you to have a forever home with me. You— you alone are my home, little kitty, and I wanted to give you something for it.”

day 17 - masquerade

you’ll wind up like the wreck you hide,
behind that mask you use.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

“IT’S a masquerade, but it’s unique because this time the masks aren’t over your eyes, but they’re over your mouth.”

Nadja Chamack is visibly thrown, but maintains her calm attitude as she adjusts the face mask on her lips. “Well, that certainly is something… new,” she finally decides to respond. “What made you decide on such a theme for the Mayor's— your father’s annual Presidential Ball?”

Chloé shrugs, rolling her eyes. “Well, obviously I wanted a normal event, but that’s impossible because of this stupid virus,” she says, annoyingly clicking her tongue. “So I suggested that we do this instead.”

“Alright then,” Nadja remarks, before taking out a remote that controlled the large screen behind them. “Now, we have here some questions from Parisians who want to know more about the impending ball.”

“Whatever,” she only scoffs, before turning her head to face the screen.

[USER 1]: I don’t understand why you don’t just hold a regular event. Quarantine is lifted already, we don’t need to be cautious anymore.

“Ha!” She snorts, shaking her head. “Are you insane? Just because quarantine’s over doesn’t mean we can just pretend nothing happened.”

[USER 2]: But there’s a vaccine and cure already available, right? Just have everyone take it, it’s not that hard.

“Not everyone can, though,” Chloé snaps at the screen. “Daddy’s working hard to make it available for the public, but there are still people out there who can’t access it. Try thinking about someone other than yourself for a change?”

[USER 3]: You’re not even properly informed. Masks aren’t good for anyone, they just make the virus worse—

Nadja shuts the screen closed, evidently aware of how irritated her special guest is becoming.

“Chloé, now…”

One can almost see the cartoonish tick that appears on her forehead. “Is this really what most of you believe? No wonder daddy’s tired all the time, it’s because some of you are so foolish as to think…”

“Chloé, we have another guest who—”

“No more guests,” she seethes, whipping her head to the screen:

Only to come face-to-face with her personal idol.

(And Chat Noir, but… eh.)

“We got your invite, Chloé, and we’d love to go. It’s a good advocacy that you’re working toward, and we appreciate it!”

Ladybug smiles at the camera, with Chat enthusiastically doing a thumbs up in the background.

“See you then! Bug out!”

.

.

“I’ve never seen you be so nice to Chloé,” Chat Noir starts, as they carefully sit on the ledge. He wears a black face mask with a single green paw in the middle— a gift Ladybug had made him after learning how to make ones that actually protected against the virus.

(Chat’s only too happy that she had given him a gift at all.)

Ladybug shrugs. “I meant what I said,” she says easily. “At least she’s taking this pandemic seriously. And I like what their event stands for.”

“Why don’t they just cancel it, though?”

“Apparently they can’t,” she sighs. “The ball is necessary for Mayor Bourgeois’ to maintain good relations with other leaders. But they’re pulling out all the stops— having everyone tested, ensuring they’ve taken vaccines, social distancing… Chloé really doesn’t want anyone to think they’re just making light of the virus.”

“Didn’t expect that from her, huh?”

“I still think she’s entitled, but at least I know I can count on her when it’s important.”

As the sun starts to go down, Ladybug decides to stand up and lazily stretch her arms. “Anyway, I have to go kitty. I’ll see you this weekend? The Wear-A-Maskerade, don’t forget!”

“I’m looking furward to it!”

.

.

He decides to show up as Adrien Agreste first.

(Ladybug told him she’d show up later on in the evening, so he figures he has some time before Chat Noir was needed.)

Chloé almost clings to him when he enters, before immediately stopping herself a few feet away. Instead, she bows to him. “Thanks for coming, Adrien.”

(She’s become a lot nicer since she started hanging out with Kagami— he figures that her strict moral code of goodness has started rubbing off on his childhood friend.

The need for social distancing helped, too.)

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he only responds, looking in wonder at his surroundings.

Everyone’s wearing a face mask, but it’s all from designer brands and labels. (In fact, he spots quite a few Agreste masks being sported by the attendees.)

Adrien can clearly identify who’s who, but ultimately decides that anonymity wasn’t the purpose of the masquerade— not of this one, at the very least.

Subconsciously, he lightly tugs on his own face mask, a white one with gold-colored embellishments, the undeniable Agreste label placed at the very center.

(He only feels much too relieved that his father had consulted with medical professionals on ensuring the masks were at their most effective; and not simply used for their aesthetic or luxury designs.

— though, make no mistake, the prices for these masks still cost an insane amount. “It’s only right,” his father tells him.

“Capitalist,” Adrien only thinks back.)

He spends the next few hours speaking and socializing with the guests; especially in order to cement relationships and friendships with those who’d help his father’s company.

It’s tiring work, but he finds comfort that everyone is as careful as he is; maintaining distance as they speak, avoiding direct contact, and never, not even for a moment, taking their masks off.

The cycle of exhaustion ends as soon as Ladybug enters the room— a bright red-and-black spotted mask covering her mouth.

Everyone immediately stops what they’re doing, and almost begin to crowd her.

It’s only Chloé’s sharp and strict voice, “Anyone who violates the social distancing rule will be promptly kicked out of the event”, that prevents them from moving any further.

Ladybug’s relieved smile— though not directed at him, makes his spirit soar and his heart beat.

Adrien figures now is as good a time as any to transform into Chat Noir.

Excusing himself from a conversation, Adrien quickly runs off to the nearest empty bathroom and locks the door. He quickly changes face masks— he prefers Ladybug’s, of course— and transforms.

In a few minute, Chat Noir comes bursting through the entrance, altogether too-loudly announcing that “his lady's purrince has arrived.”

.

.

The ball is fun, for the most part.

Except that Chloé keeps looking for Adrien and Ladybug keeps looking for Chat Noir so he finds himself more often in the bathroom transforming than much of anything else.

“You’re going to have to retire one of you soon, Adrien,” Plagg sighs exhaustedly, after being detransformed the nth time that night. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. Or how long you can keep it up.”

“What do you mean?” Adrien asks, breathing heavily as he leans over one of the sinks. “I’m fine!”

“No,” his kwami starts slowly. “You're—”

An old man suddenly enters the bathroom, and Adrien almost panics. “Ahahahaha!” He laughs maniacally, before looking in the mirror. “You are really one funny guy, Adrien.”

He turns briefly to the newcomer, then smiles somewhat insanely. “Just talking to my old pal over here,” Adrien says, patting the mirror. “Talking to myself… you know, like I always do.”

The elderly man just stares blankly at him then nods slowly, before backing away. Adrien heaves a sigh of relief as he disappears— failing to notice the amused wink that the stranger throws toward his kwami.

As soon as he’s gone, Plagg makes it a point to ensure the door is locked.

“See, you even forgot to lock it this time!” He complains. “If not for Master— my mastery of being a great kwami, then you would’ve been found out!

"That doesn’t even make sense,” Adrien argues. “And it’s just an elderly man, I doubt he knows anything.”

(Well, Plagg begs to differ.)

“But okay, this is the last time,” he finally relents. “I’ll stop Chat Noir, because Chloé expects me to stay until the end. I’m sure Ladybug will understand, okay?”

He picks up his mask from the sink, and puts it on.

Then— “Plagg, claws out!”

Adrien fails to notice his kwami’s panicked expression as he gets sucked inside the ring.

.

.

Chat Noir finds Ladybug out in the hallway, other empty aside from the two of them. She’s busily typing away at her miraculous, barely even noticing as he steps outside the bathroom.

“Milady, what are you doing alone on such a mewtiful night?”

She rolls her eyes, barely letting her eyes rip away from the screen. “I’m not really one for parties,” Ladybug replies easily. “I’ll probably leave soon, too. What about you—”

As soon as she looks up to stare at him, the words die on her mouth.

Instead she stares at him— almost too intently, her eyes burning holes into his face.

(Is this really happening? Is Ladybug… checking him out? Has she fallen for him the same way he’s loved her for months—)

“I know that the glamour of the ball is tempting, but I’d never thought you’d stoop so low…”

Huh.

“… as to literally steal something, I mean, what is that supposed to be? You being a cat burglar or something? That’s not even all that clever…”

“Hey, wait…”

“… We’re supposed to be superheroes, Chat, I never thought you’d do something so…”

“Milady…”

“… and a mask, of all things?! I thought you were taking this pandemic seriously— and parading around in someone else’s mask is extremely irresponsible of you to…”

“Ladybug.”

“… what?”

“What are you talking about?”

He stares at her, evidently confused, before her expression flattens and looks almost angry.

“I’m not dumb, Chat; everyone knows that's Adrien Agreste's mask— it’s originally designed by his father, and there’s literally no other copy of it in this world. So you definitely stole it from him…”

“But I didn’t steal anything!”

Ladybug speaks first. “Then how would you explain wearing it around your neck?!”

“Maybe think about other possibilities before assuming that I stole it?!” Chat Noir argues, shaking his head. “I thought you’d know me well enough to know that I’m not a thief, Ladybug— in fact, I would never need to steal anything! I have enough money to last me a—

Oh, wait.

Oops.

”… what do you mean?“

"Haha, I was just kidding, I’m actually dirt poor and stole this mask! You should probably also look around for Adrien, he’s passed out somewhere… in an alleyway… uh, YEAH, so…”

“If you didn’t take that mask, then there’s only one possibility…”

“No, no, don’t connect the dots— leave the dots unconnected! Yeah, social distance those dots! There’s a virus going around, you know, so you shouldn't—”

“Adrien?!”

“Thanks for coming, mate,” Jagged told him for probably the tenth time, as they stood in the line for the red carpet. “I really didn’t want another idiot on my arm for this thing.”

“I think you might be the only client of mine that can drag me to an event like this,” he replied, a bit distracted as he glanced among the reporters and celebrities, looking for any exploitable emotions.

Jagged grimaced, “Well, I don’t think you’ll find any new clients here, so I’m sorry for lying.”

“What?” He asked staring at him.

“It’s what I told Penny to tell Nathalie–to get you to come,” he explained quickly. “Honestly, I thought you’d like the benefit.”

Truth be told, Nathalie told him it would be a good opportunity to akumatize someone. “Oh,” he replied awkwardly, “That’s alright.”

When they got to the front of the red carpet, Jagged turned to him. “Can you hold my clutch?”

“What?” He asked, already taking the bejeweled thing in his hands. It did match the suit Gabriel put him in, but it was still grossly inappropriate. “Why do you have a clutch?”

“For my phone–”

“You have pockets that I designed!” He hissed back.

“For autographs,” he admitted, before stepping away and strolling in front of the photographers.

So there Gabriel was, holding a purse that wasn’t his wife’s. It was a weird feeling. He hadn’t done this since the nineties, when she was a prominent model and was a nobody designer. Still, Jagged Stone looked nearly as stunning, and Gabriel still felt like an unknown after spending so much time as a recluse.

“–And I don’t have a date tonight, but I’m accompanied by my good friend, and the man who designed this suit, Gabriel Agreste,” Jagged told the reporters, beaming at him.

Gabriel met him on the carpet, posing with the rockstar. He was doing his best to smile, as odd as it felt. Jagged pulled him closer, putting an arm around him easily.

“Does your ascot match Mr. Stone’s suit?”

“It does,” Gabriel replied to the reporter, glancing over to him. “The only thing we can agree on is stripes.”

That line god a barrage of fake, canned laughter from the photographers, and they were able to move on. Gabriel handed him back the clutch. “For autographs, really?”

“You’d be surprised what being a kind celebrity could get you,” Jagged teased him. “And the matching ascot, Gabriel. You’re cute.”

Gabriel shot him a glare as they entered the grandiose hall. “I had leftover fabric.”

“Gold tones suit you,” Jagged went on, ignoring him as he plucked two champagne flutes off the tray of a passing waiter. “One time, though, I saw you in this beautiful sapphire blue suit. Do you remember when you wore that?”

“I wore a lot of blue suits back then,” he replied, shifting his gaze away as he took a sip of champagne. “I couldn’t tell you which one you saw.”

Jagged shrugged. “I asked my assistant who you were because I wanted to take you home. You were already married, sadly.”

Gabriel chuckled a bit. “Are you making up for that night tonight?”

He looked at Gabriel, and Gabriel sensed a bit of desire in him. Jagged’s emotions have been strictly platonic until this moment. “Again, mate, I thought you’d be better than the idiots Penny sets me up with.”

“She likes you,” Gabriel told him, matter-of-factly. Not just because he could magically sense her feelings, but because he had eyes. “That’s why she’s setting you up on awful dates. Set her straight.”

“I like to keep my options open,” Jagged said, brushing aside his concerns. “She doesn’t mind.”

Gabriel, who knew for a fact that the woman did mind, began to disagree, when Jagged turned it around.

“Have you told your pretty assistant that you’re not interested?” Jagged asked him, his eyebrows high. “Because she has to be in love with you to put up with your nonsense.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s a fair assessment, I suppose. She is quite lovely.”

“But you find me lovelier, right?” Jagged teased him, brushing his arm. “Right?”

Gabriel dignified that with an eyeroll, but looked to the dance floor. They had come to the benefit gala late, so the dancing was already in full swing. “Do you want to dance, Jonathan?”

“I thought you wanted to schmooze for clients?”

Gabriel, who could probably akumatize anyone in this room, decided against it and shook his head. “I’d rather dance, to be honest.”

“With me?” Jagged asked, taken aback by the admission.

He smiled at that. A real, genuine smile. Gabriel hadn’t had one of those in a while. “With you, Jonathan.”

I really wanted to post this on the thirtieth and I just couldn’t quite get it figured out in time, but you might as well have it, even though it’s kinda mopey and maybe not my best. Sorry. I tried to make a happy version and it just didn’t work out.

The good part of the whole city being paralyzed during Miracle Queen’s attack was that there were no cameras. No news crews to record everything that went down. Even the heroes under Miracle Queen’s control remembered nothing, having woken up after the cure in the exact same place they’d been when they left.

For the sake of the secrets of the Miraculous, that was a good thing. But it did make things difficult for Ladybug.

Keep reading

@mlrarepairmarch

I had way too much fun with this one. I think I’m gonna rate it a “T” for safety. There are some suggestive comments, but nothing too bad. Also, some spoilers for season 2.

Pairing: Adrien/Alya (Alyadrien) or Rena/Chat (what are we calling this one? Chatna? Rechat? Team Toe Beans?)

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@insanitysbloomings and I were talking about Alyadrien parenting and we accidentally created a pair of monsters…

“So…let me get this straight.”

Adrien couldn’t repress the vindictive smile that came across his face as the principal blanched, seemingly bracing himself for the torrent that was to follow. Six words meant that his wife was about to unleash a deluge of words carefully chosen and designed to make whoever was unfortunate enough to displease her wither like autumn leaves.  

“This…boy has been running around the playground all week, pulling on every pigtail, ponytail, and skirt hem he could get his nasty little hands on,” Alya said, leaning back in her chair as she folded her hands in her lap.

“W-We knew of Jean’s, uh, unconventional manner of play for a while,” Principal Lefontaine said, dabbing his bald forehead as Alya’s eyebrow arched over the rim of his glassed. “N-Nevertheless, we feel that Artemis should have used her words to-”

“From what Temi has been saying these last couple of nights, she already told her homeroom teacher that she warned Jean that the next time he snapped her bra strap, she would break his nose,” Adrien said, folding his arms across his chest. “My daughter is not a liar, Mr. Lefontaine.”

“Lying is not why she is currently being suspended,” Principal Lefontaine said.

“No,” Alya said icily. “You’re suspending her because a vicious little brat has been sexually harassing girls all year-”

“Th-that’s a bit far, don’t you think?”  Principal Lefontaine stammered, glancing at Adrien for support. “Mr. Agreste, this is clearly a case of boys just being b-boys, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No,” Adrien said flatly as Alya snorted derisively. “I would not. Artemis’ brother has never put his hands on a girl without their consent-”

“Yet he did kick Jean in the…ahem,” Principal Lefontaine coughed. “Rather hard, if the poor boy’s cries were to be expected.”

“After he saw some oaf grab his sister in a way that made her uncomfortable,” Adrien said with a small nod. “Sounds like the boy we raised, doesn’t it?”

“But, somehow, our childrens’ safety and right to an education isn’t as important as the “play” of the disrespectful little boys in her grade,” Alya said, glaring daggers into the eyes of the man across the desk before turning thoughtfully to her husband. “Do you think Paris should be warned about the fact that their daughters’ safety isn’t Mr. Lefontaine’s chiefest concern?”

“N-Now, there really isn’t any need to get the press involved,” Principal Lefontaine said, raising a hand.

“I am the press,” Alya said with a toothy smile. “So, unless you want this story on the front page of The Local—trust me, the editor owes me a favor—I would kindly reconsider taking any kind of measures against my children.”

“B-But Jean’s parents are going to be here any minute!” Principal Lefontaine said, handkerchief now drenched with sweat. “What am I supposed to tell them? Wh-What am I supposed to tell Jean?”

“That next time, he should listen when my daughter tells him not to put his hands on her body,” Alya said, standing up to leave.

“Or, at the very least, duck,” Adrien added, shooting a small wave over his shoulder. “I have every faith you’ll come to the right decision.”

Outside of the claustrophobic office, three teens sat on opposing benches. On one sat two hazel-eyed children, arms crossed and ankles resting on their opposite knees. As their parents walked out, they shot identical, shit-eating grins at the larger boy across from them currently pressing one pack of ice against his nose and another into his groin.

“Artemis, Apollo,” Adrien said, nodding towards the door with a small smile. “C’mon, let’s go get dinner.”

“See ya Monday, Jeannie,” Artemis said with a small wave as their parents passed through the door.

“Thith ithn’t over,” Jean mumbled through his ice pack. “Your nightmare ith juth beginning, twerpth.”

“Is that what the doctor told your mother when she had you?” Apollo snickered, dodging Jean’s foot as he skipped out the door after his parents.

“You think they deserve to be suspended?”

Adrien looked up from his tablet as Alya crawled into bed. “Do you?”  

“They did fracture that kid’s nose…though it sounds like he was warned,” Alya sighed, rolling over and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder. “And deserved it; god is that bad of me to say?” 

“First time they’ve ever been called in like this,” Adrien said, pressing a kiss into Alya’s hair. “And if they’re gonna get suspended for fighting, at least it was for a good cause.”

“Yeah…I guess so,” Alya sighed happily. “…we raised some good kids, didn’t we?”

“Temi’s definitely your daughter though,” Adrien chuckled.

“Excuse me?” Alya said, rolling over to look up at Adrien as she booped his nose. “That penalty kick Apollo did to that boy’s funbags was pure Chat Noir, don’t you think?”

“He would have made a good superhero,” Adrien said. “Maybe even better than us, you think?”

“Nah…we were pretty good in our day,” Alya said, leaning up and kissing Adrien on his cheek. “You ever think about telling them?”

“About us?” Adrien chuckled. “You think they’d believe us?”

“Nah…probably not,” Alya said, rolling over and turning off the lights.

“Hey, Temi?”

“Hm?”

“You ever think about telling mom and dad?”

“About us?” The black clad girl asked, raising her eyebrow at her orange and white clad brother as he twirled his flute between his fingers. “You think they’d believe us?

“Nah…probably not,” Apollo shrugged. A comfortable silence slipped between them as Chat Noire and Renard Rouge leaned against the spire of the Eiffel Tower, watching the city churn beneath them.

Most Girls

Title inspired by the song my lovely twin @lnc2 shared yesterday. Ending inspired by new Doctor Who s2. Enjoy!

The lobby buzzed with chatter as movie-goers filed out of the theater, and Marinette stuck close to Adrien and Kagami stubbornly, except this time it wasn’t out of possessive jealousy. She stole nervous glances at Kagami, clenching fistfuls of her apron and biting her lip.

“I’m glad we all got to watch the movie together,” Adrien said, and Kagami and Marinette averted their gazes.

“Adrien, the press would like a few photos of you and your costar,” Nathalie interrupted.

“I’ll be right back,” Adrien sighed with an apologetic wince before following Nathalie across the lobby.

Kagami and Marinette stood in silence, Kagami facing away from her as Marinette stole occasional glances. A couple times she opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again when she couldn’t find the words. She took a deep breath and mustered her courage before turning to face her.

“Um, Kagami-”

“What do you want?” She cut her off coldly, eyes narrowed into a glare.

“I just wanted to say that I’m…sorry,” she said, shoulders curling. “I let Chloe get in my head earlier, and I got jealous of you and Adrien.”

“Don’t apologize for everything. It’s a sign of weakness,” Kagami said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Though it seems as if I underestimated you as an opponent.”

“Kagami…” Marinette paused to choose her next words carefully. “Why do we have to compete with one another? I mean, Adrien is wonderful and amazing, but have you ever stopped to consider that maybe you and I could get along?”

Kagami quirked a brow so she continued.

“I can tell you really care about Adrien, and I do too, so maybe instead of fighting and tearing each other down, we could be kinder and more respectful. After all, fighting over a boy is pointless if he doesn’t pick either of us in the end, and I don’t want to lose a potential friend over some petty feelings.”

“I don’t understand you, Marinette,” Kagami said, and Marinette’s eyebrows raised. “Adrien has been hurt by you brushing off his advances because you’re indecisive and hesitant, but you still try to chase away other girls who are after him.”

“What? Adrien? Hurt? By me?” She cupped her cheeks in horror.

“He’s tried confessing to you several times, but you keep rejecting him,” Kagami said, and Marinette tilted her head to one side.

“But Adrien has never confessed to me,” Marinette said with furrowed brows. “I wish he would, but he only thinks of me as a friend.”

“Wait, you aren’t the girl who keeps breaking his heart?”

“No…” Marinette shook her head with a frown.

“So who is?” Kagami placed her hands on her hips.

“It’s simple really.” They turned to face Chloe who stood behind them with crossed arms. “There’s another girl we don’t know about, and we need to band together to take her out.”

“No.” Marinette shook her head. “Don’t you get it? All of this fighting isn’t right. We shouldn’t hate one another over a boy.”

Kagami and Chlor averted their gazes stubbornly.

“Look, Kagami, you and I got off on the wrong foot, and part of that is my fault, but that doesn’t mean we can’t turn things around,” Marinette said, and Kagami lowered her gaze. “And, Chloe, you and I have always butt heads, but we actually worked together and sort of got along today. Think of how much we could do it we stopped fighting.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but Kagami flicked her gaze up to meet Marinette’s contemplatively.

“So, who gets to be with Adrien?” She asked.

“Maybe you, maybe me, and maybe in some alternate reality Chloe-”

“Hey!”

“Maybe none of us. Maybe this mystery girl will change her mind,” Marinette shrugged. “In the end it’s up to Adrien to decide, and all I really care about is that he’s happy, don’t you?”

Kagami eyed her a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“I can see why Adrien speaks so highly of you,” she said, and Marinette’s cheeks flushed.

“And I can see why he thinks you’re pretty. You look amazing tonight,” Marinette said, and Kagami’s posture relaxed. “Even you were less horrible today, Chloe.”

“Ugh, don’t drag me into this,” Chloe groaned, but Marinette caught the small grin before she masked it. “I guess if I am going to surrender Adrien to someone someday I would rather if be one of you two. But he’s totally going to fall for me.”

Kagami and Marinette rolled their eyes and chuckled.

“See? We can all get along just fine,” Marinette said. “Fighting over a boy isn’t worth it.”

“Especially not if you’ve smelled him after gym class,” Kagami said with a grunt. “He sweats so much during fencing.”

“I have noticed that…” Marinette cupped her chin.

“He smells like rotten cheese sometimes,” Kagami stuck out her tongue with a gag.

“You think that’s bad? Please, one time he ruined 3000 euros worth of my mom’s makeup giving himself a makeover when we were little,” Chloe said, and they all laughed. “He also slept with a nightlight until he was 11.”

“What’s up with his eyebrows? They move so much when he talks,” Marinette added, and they all burst into a fit of giggles, clutching their sides until the boy in question returned.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” He asked with a confused smile.

Upon seeing his expression, they erupted even louder, their chortles echoing throughout the lobby.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed, making them laugh harder.

He had no idea what was happening, but he was just happy that they were all getting along. After all, girls should lift each other’s spirits, and he was glad to see them put their differences aside. He had a feeling that they were all going to be good friends one day, even if they wouldn’t tell him what was so funny.