28. Chapter 28

Adrien missed Marinette.

See, most days he could get through French class without complaint (due in no small part to his friend’s ever-sunny demeanor), but today Marinette was nowhere to be found. It was surprising given that he’d seen her earlier in homeroom, but whatever the reason for it, her absence only sucked any lingering traces of joy from the room.

Adrien sighed, letting his head drop onto his desk with a quiet thud. It was review day, meaning the classroom was full of muted conversation and half-hearted attempts at studying.

He didn’t even bother.

‘I could do this in my sleep,’ Adrien thought, shooting a weary glance at his vocab list. ‘Practically child’s play.’

So he elected to continue lounging, thankful that his teacher seemed too occupied with something at her desk to call him out on his slouched idleness. He might have considered cracking a book if his study partner had been there, but as things stood, Adrien would much rather spend his free time letting his mind wander.

And he knew just where to let it wander to. Getting comfortable at his desk, he thought back to a few hours ago with a grin.

Adrien wasn’t exactly what you would call a morning person, and he most definitely was not a fan of Mondays on pure principle alone.

That being said, this Monday morning had gone incredibly well.

It had started (like most all his mornings did) with a tinny alarm and a sleepy groan. However his usual grogginess had faded quickly, only to be replaced with glorious recollection as he’d registered the fact he wasn’t wearing pajamas.

‘Oh, yeah…’

He'd rolled on to his back, sheets wrinkling beneath his heavy form as a wondrous grin stretched his sleep-deadened cheeks. The grin had only furthered as each little memory slotted its way into the forefront of his mind, fire racing up his chest in a paltry imitation of the inferno he'd felt the night before until he was thoroughly flushed.

It hadn't been a dream.

He’d had phone sex with Ladybug.

He, Adrien Agreste, had laid back in bed, groaning out his fantasies and directing his girlfriend's motions as he helped her bring herself to orgasm.

It had all seemed so surreal in the faded light of the infamous morning-after — his room had looked quite a bit different than it had when he'd had Ladybug panting across the line in the dark of night. In fact he'd felt a momentary clench of doubt, questioning whether or not their steamy encounter had really happened.

So he’d reached for his phone, pulling it off its charging port in the desperate hope that it hadn’t been a dream after all (God knew he’d had enough fantasies about her for imagined phone sex to not be outside of the realm of possibility).

Thankfully, his text messages didn’t lie.

From the video game puns (complete with her joking yet deliciously sinful “gamer girl” picture), to the invitation for playtime round two and all the way up to his girlfriend’s erotic strip-tease, none of their sexting had been a fantasy, which had led Adrien to the conclusion the their subsequent phone call also must have occurred.

His greedy eyes had re-scanned the images, his heart thudding with an entanglement of love/lust.

Head still down, Adrien shifted in his desk seat as he recalled his reaction to rereading the texts. Even now, he could still hear Ladybug’s moans.

Her whimpers.

Her stifled screams. 

All the little sounds she had made while in the throes of ecstasy and all the little sounds that were now branded into his core. Together they had formed a new and all-encompassing goal that had stuck under Adrien’s very skin with quiet urgency.

He needed to be the one to pull those noises from her.

He needed to be there with her, needed to have those sounds shrill down his eardrum, crash into the plane of his collarbone, and echo across their lips so he could swallow the pleas that he alone inspired from his Lady.

Because while it had been at his urging (his words, his moans) that she’d made those shattering sounds in the first place, it had ultimately been her own fingers that had brought Ladybug to her pleasure. Not that that thought wasn’t incredibly arousing, but Adrien couldn’t help but want to take it a step further, to see what kind of utterances he could draw from Ladybug. With his fingers, his mouth.

In the morning he had recalled with perfect clarity how she'd said that she wanted his cock… 

…and the memory of her begging for it had roused that particular organ back to life.

But the clock had ticked its reminder that school would be starting in less than an hour, so the teen had ignored his need, still far too sated from last night’s tryst to consider indulging himself a third time. Instead he'd pushed himself out of the embrace of his bed to begin his morning routine.

Which had started, as per usual, with a wake up text to his Lady-love.

[ rise and shine sweetness <3 ]

[ did you have nice dreams or naughty ones? And were they about me?  ]

Ladybug had the most charming tendency to sleep through her alarm, and after hearing her complain about her third tardy slip of the semester, Adrien had made it his own personal prerogative to text her every morning and not stop until she answered. Sure his girlfriend had griped about it at first, spouting some line about stupid cats and their inability to be ignored, but the fact she didn’t ask him to stop let Adrien know that she secretly appreciated his efforts to help reform her attendance.

Of course he didn’t dare attempt his little stunt on the weekends.

He was concerned, not suicidal.

[ too tired to dream. too tired to GET UP. ]

[ still worn out from last night? ;3 ]

She was the cutest grump he had ever had the pleasure of knowing, and her petulant reply had only inspired a laugh to bubble up out of the boy while he'd made his way to the bathroom and fallen into his rigorous skincare routine. It had taken less than two minutes for his phone to buzz again, drawing his head out from under the cool water and his hand towards the device.

 [ I am, remind me again why I thought staying up til midnight on a school night was a good idea? ]

[ it probably wasn’t, but boy am I glad we did ]

[ I guess youre right ]

[ well, at least I had a lot of fun… ;) ]

‘Good to know I keep my lady satisfied…’

[ AH HA! So we DID have phone sex! ]

[ I know, I was there! ]

[ tbh I thought it might have just been a wet dream?? ]

[ id like to think im a bit better than a dream ]

[ that you are my lady ;3 ]

Their conversation had petered on for the next half hour or so. The easy banter carrying Adrien through his lonely breakfast, his solitary car ride, and right up until class rules had dictated he put his phone away.

Which is why he was more than a bit confused to feel it vibrating now, the motion snapping him back to the present.

With a quick glance to make sure the teacher was still occupied, Adrien pulled himself out of his musings and slipped his phone from his pants pocket to glance down at the device. ‘It isn’t like Ladybug to send texts in the middle of the day…’

He opened her message with a quirked brow.

[ I need to see you ]

[ tonight at 9 ]

Oh.

‘Cool it,’ Adrien chided himself, trying not get too excited at Ladybug’s words, ‘you’ve already misinterpreted her text once before, don’t go jumping to conclusions.’ 

He tried to reel in his suspicions, he really did. But it was difficult for his mind not to immediately plunge into hell, especially considering everything they’d done the night before.

Adrien somehow managed to not buckle.

[ no problem, where should we meet? ]

There, a nice casual response to a nice casual request.

‘She probably just wants to move up the patrol,’ Adrien rationalized, not letting his ardor get the best of him as he shifted around in his seat. ‘Ladybug is probably busy on Wednesday so she—‘

The next message he got was an address, and Adrien had to fight down a wicked wave of déjà vu.

[ is this about an akuma? ]

[ no ]

Double oh.

[ well then are we taking a patrol? ]

[ no, I just really need to see you ]

Adrien eyeballed conclusions… and plowed right into them.

His stomach twitched, heart thumping at her words and stuttering with glee when Ladybug’s next message arrived. Now there was no mistaking the invitation.

[ so are you coming or what? ]

‘I certainly hope so,’ Adrien thought, suddenly much less bored than he had been just minutes ago as he typed out a hearty affirmation.

[ of course, my love <3 ]

With the anticipation of seeing Ladybug again now swirling deliciously in his chest, Adrien found the second half of his French class to be significantly better than the first.

Marinette or no.

‘Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.’

Marinette couldn’t tell you how she managed to get home after “The Sighting”™, but somehow she did.

Pushing through the doors of the bakery before making her way upstairs, she vaguely registered her own voice calling out to her parents, spinning some gossamer-thin excuse before her trapdoor was closed and her bag hit the ground.

She was silent.

She was absolutely, positively silent.

She was silent as she unthinkingly made her way up into her loft, silent as she pushed herself down atop her mattress, and silent as she ruminated on everything she had just witnessed.

She stayed silent because if she didn’t…

She’d be screaming.

And if today were, in fact, the day she was finally going to lose her mind, Marinette wanted to bid it farewell with some dignity. Her brain deserved that much at least.

“Are you okay?” Tikki asked softly, the care evident in her tone as she flitted around her sprawled-out companion. Marinette rolled on to her back at the sound of the kwami’s voice, peering up at the red creature as she swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“It’s Adrien,” she whispered hoarsely, staring up at her ceiling but not at all seeing. “Adrien is Chat Noir.”

Just vocalizing the statement was enough to send another jolt of panicked excitement down her spine, as if speaking the words aloud somehow cemented their blinding accuracy.

The way she said it was not a question, was not a theory or hypothesis. It was a realization. It was solid truth. “Adrien is Chat Noir.”

Tikki gave a sigh, floating down to rest atop their shared pillow before continuing on in a soothing voice.  

“I know this isn’t how you wanted to find out,” the kwami began, sweeping her tiny mitts over Marinette’s brow, “...and I’m sorry you had your choice taken away, but… maybe it’s good you finally learned the truth?”

“I was going to tell him… We were going to…” Marinette trailed off, allowing herself a second to wallow in self-pity at the whole situation. Of all the ways she'd imagined finding out who her partner was, this took the cake for most ridiculous.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be Adrien.

Except it was him, and it had been him all this whole time. The boy she’d long chased after and the young man who had finally caught her were one in the same.

Three years Marinette had spent dodging Chat's advances, three years spent denying and sidestepping… all so she could fawn over his civilian self.

It would have almost been funny if not for the sheer insanity of the situation.

“Well, I think you’re handling it pretty well,” Tikki ventured, sugarcoating her words with sickly sweet encouragement. “Honestly, I’d always just assumed you would completely freak out when you discovered Adrien was—“

The kwami’s eyes blew wide with regret as she quickly snapped her jaw shut. Though not quickly enough, if Marinette’s gasp of recognition was any indication.

“You knew!” the girl yelped accusingly, sticking a finger in Tikki’s crossed eyed face. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?!?” Marinette felt the fingers of her free hand twine in the blankets beneath her as she impaled her tiny friend with a bewildered glare, trying to process the implications of this discovery.

“You didn’t want to learn Chat’s identity!” the kwami reminded her, throwing two hands up in a placating gesture.

“I’ve been crushing on Adrien for four years, Tikki! Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know he was Chat Noir?!”

“Because that’s exactly what you told me!”

The only response Marinette could conjure was a drawn out yell, dampened by the pillow she pushed against her face as she threw herself back down onto the bed. The muffled sound was a strange one — a scream filled with tension, yes, but also much more than that.

Regret?

(She wanted to go back, wanted to un-see his trademark mop-top, un-glimpse his rakish smile, un-know his true identity.)

Check.

Longing?

(She did not, however, want to un-feel his lips against her temples, or un-learn the way his presence made her feel wanted… feel supported.)

Check.

Frustration?

(Goddamnit she had been so close! So close to feeling comfortable with letting their guises slip and their civilian selves meet. And with one chance sighting, one fluke encounter, the entirety of her grit had fled. Her choice had been taken away.)

Double Check.

Anger?

…

No, Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to be angry… not at Chat, anyway. Not at Tikki, or Adrien, or really anyone for that matter.  Sure, she was scared and confused and maybe even a little bit exhilarated… but never angry.

And as much as she was still reeling from her unwanted discovery, as much as she wanted to punch something for the sheer sensation of fist to surface contact, Marinette felt herself sliding back into that oh-so-familiar mindset of frustration instead.

‘This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening…’

And that’s when the denial kicked in.

Like someone had flipped a switch in her mainframe, Marinette went from simply processing her situation to full-on trying to disprove it had ever occurred. A million conflicts, a million little dissuasions began churning around in her thoughts, each more far-fetched than the last as she desperately tried to reason her realization away.

‘Adrien can’t be Chat, he’s too…’

‘And Chat is…’

‘They both…’

 Her arguments were feeble, and their pathetic desperation only made Marinette’s guts tie up into ever-increasing knots as she curled up on her side.

After an indeterminable period of reflection, Marinette came to the conclusion that she knew only two things for sure.

This kind of knowledge wasn’t the sort of thing you could just hide from your partner/classmate/boyfriend/whatever, and Marinette knew any attempt on her part to cover this up would only lead to more drama down the road.

Of course, that didn’t make the idea of what she had to do any less terrifying.

‘No,’ Marinette thought adamantly, letting her lingering frustration fill her with purpose as she reached for her phone, ‘this gets sorted out now.’

She tapped at the icon labeled “C.N.”

[ I need to see you ]

[ tonight at 9 ]

Marinette wanted nothing more than to curl up and nap her problems away. She wanted to just sleep and sleep until she woke up in a world where things made sense, a world where cats were cats and boys were boys and both species left her the fuck alone.

But she didn’t.

Because she was Ladybug, goddamnit, and Chat Noir was going to give her some answers.

[ no problem, where should we meet? ]

She took a breath, typing out the address of the infamous street corner and pressing send.

[ is this about an akuma? ]

[ no ]

[ well then are we taking a patrol? ]

[ no, I just really need to see you ]

Irritation flared as he paused in his reply. ‘Let's go Agreste, I know it’s review day so you’ve got plenty of time to respond…’

[ so are you coming or what? ]

…

[ of course, my love <3 ]

His message was a double-edged sword, impaling her with equal parts swooping glee and crashing guilt.

‘How in the world did I manage to trick Adrien Agreste into thinking he loves me?’ Marinette thought with a groan, rolling over to throw an arm over her eyes.

Much to her chagrin, she couldn’t quite stomp down the lingering butterflies of giddiness that took flight at the mere insinuation that her (not-so) forgotten crush’s feelings for her went beyond that of just friends, and the sensation festered in the pit of her stomach, heavy and dull.

‘He loves a lie.’

Marinette had never felt so undeserving of his or Chat’s (‘So I guess really just his…’) affection in her entire life.

It wasn’t fair! Here he was, thinking he was having some fantasy relationship with a poised and beautiful heroine of the night, when in all actuality he’d been making out with his clumsy, plain-faced, disaster of a classmate for the past—

“FUCK,” Marinette shrieked, bolting upright as Tikki startled at the sudden movement, “I’VE BEEN MAKING OUT WITH ADRIEN AGRESTE FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS!”

Correction: she had been doing much more than just making out with Adrien over the past two months, and the sudden recollection sent her into another tailspin.

“I was wondering when you’d catch on to that,” her kwami mumbled.

The teen didn’t hear. Couldn’t hear.

Marinette sat gasping in her bed, mentally reliving each touch and flirt and tease the two of them had thrown each other’s way since the beginning of their relationship as she tried not to combust from pure embarrassment alone. Somehow, the more physical aspect of their… entanglement… had gone right over her head, lost in the background noise of her prior breakdown.

But boy if Marinette didn’t notice it now.

She’d had her tongue down Adrien Agreste’s throat.

She’d ground down on Adrien Agreste’s erection.

And just the other night, she had…

Nope.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Marinette buried her head deep into her pillow, letting out a squeak as she willed the memory of her and Chat’s illicit phone sex encounter away in another strenuous feat of denial. The mental picture of Adrien, sweat-slick and lust-consumed as he whispered dirty promises of things to come through his cell was almost enough to break her, and Marinette felt like she may just evaporate into nothing as she desperately forced the image away.

But this wasn’t something she could just ignore. There had been pictures, there had been words, and eventually… there had been orgasms.

‘You can’t really go back to being just friends after you make someone cum.’

Marinette ripped an eye off her cat shaped body-pillow.

The rest of her afternoon was spent first in quiet processing (‘oh, this is happening’) then more loud discussion with her kwami (“Honestly Marinette, I’m not sure how you didn't see this coming beforehand…”) and finally with some good old-fashion avoidance. Avoidance of her responsibilities, avoidance of homework, avoidance of friends and boyfriends, and (in one special case) avoidance of both in one person.

She missed her second half of classes as well as the dinner her mother had tried coaxing her down to eat, opting instead to barricade herself in her bedroom with a metaphorical “no boys allowed” sign taped to her door while she indulged in some sorely needed contemplation. Marinette might have felt guilty over her childish denial of responsibilities if not for the fact that there was absolutely no room for additional emotions alongside the relentless flood of pure, visceral realization that thrummed through her brain and skittered down her body.

The way she saw it, the confrontation could go one of three ways:

In the first scenario, Chat would be pleased at his sudden unmasking, instantly transforming back into Adrien as he implored Ladybug to reveal herself so they could run off into the sunset.

In the second scenario, Chat would be pissed, blaming her for the fact his identity had been compromised before ending their relationship and leaving Paris for all eternity.

And of course there was a third scenario, one in which Chat was not, in fact, Adrien, and the only thing to come of the whole situation would be some incessant teasing at the idea Ladybug thought he was a model before things returned to how they usually were.

‘I fucking wish…’

Needless to say, that last option was looking more far-fetched by the minute, but the other two were still very real possibilities.

Marinette didn’t know which one was more nervewracking.

The thought of losing him and the fear of her own reveal weighed equally heavy upon her shoulders as the girl spun listlessly in her office chair, trying to steady her heart rate as the minutes ticked down.

‘Whatever the outcome, I still have to do this,’ she told herself firmly.

 8:45 pm.

Marinette looked up at Tikki, the kwami giving her a heavy nod of understanding before pressing a kiss to her chosen’s cheek.

This time her Miraculous transformation did little to temper the swell of anxiety that worked into a lump in her throat. And while physically it was Ladybug who climbed out onto the moonlit roof minutes later, the figure making her way towards the west end was all Marinette.

All clenching jaw and flushing face.

All tongue-tied words and stumbling feet.

Everything she was… and nothing he deserved.

Marinette planted herself in front on the billboard at ten to nine, averting her eyes from the damning canvas that stretched its way across the side of the building as she toyed with her yo-yo. The atmosphere was cold, or at least she assumed it was.

Marinette couldn’t feel much at the moment.

She breathed out into the night, watching tiny puffs of fog accompany her exhalations and wondering which boy would show up to meet her.

Adrien practically hovered across the Paris skyline, navigating his way toward the meeting space his Lady had dictated as he happily whistled away. The young man had been riding a high for the past 24 hours or so, a high that was swathed in dotted red and made of smirks and luck and kisses.

Not even his earlier back-to-back fitting sessions could bring him down; the anticipation of seeing his girlfriend again far outweighed any petty complaints he may have had about his bloated schedule. In all honesty, his father could work him to the bone all day every day for the rest of his life as long as the nights were kept free. Because Adrien would gladly face a million photoshoots if it meant he got to see Ladybug at the end of each one.

Needless to say Plagg didn’t exactly share the sentiment. There had been a rather heated discussion between them earlier over what constituted “necessary transformation situations” (as well as a great deal of asking… then pleading… then finally bargaining) but Adrien didn’t dwell on it. Any trade-off was worth the prize of whatever his Lady had in store for him on this crisp October night.

(Of course, now he had to explain to Nathalie why it was absolutely crucial that he have a fondue fountain installed in his room at the earliest convenience.)

‘Problems for later…’ Adrien thought, winding down to a sauntering pace as he neared his destination.

Chat Noir was in fine form tonight, folks, making excellent time as he touched down onto the corner rooftop and swaggered his way to the edge. Peeking over the precipice, the hero could just spot (ha!) his partner, back turned in his direction as she lazily shifted herself from side to side.

Adrien allowed himself only a second to admire the way she moved before his need to annoy her outweighed his need to ogle her. He grabbed his staff with a grin.

Ladybug had excellent senses, no doubt about it, but even her hearing was no match for his stealth — a fact Adrien used to his advantage as he sneakily extended his baton to plant it in the concrete just feet behind her. Years of practice had honed his movements, meaning he was nearly silent as he landed on the pads of his boots and quickly retracted his weapon.

He slid up behind her in a stalking motion worthy of his namesake, body moving slowly and eyes never leaving the target before him. ‘Heeeere Buggy Buggy…..’

He pounced.

Ladybug jumped as one of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other clapping a light hand over her eyes as the cat joyously beamed against the crown of her head.  

“Guess who?” Adrien sang out, holding her tight as she wiggled in his grasp.

“Chat—“

“Correct!”

“Chat,” she repeated, slowing to stand stock still as she spoke out into the night. Ladybug tilted her head back, eyes widening almost comically as his hand fell away and she took in his shit-eating smirk. “We— um… Well, I… I didn’t come here to p-play around…”

‘That’s a shame, I like it when she wants to play,’ Adrien couldn’t help but think, feeling a burst of affection at her uncharacteristic shyness as he whirled his girlfriend around in his arms. ‘She’s probably just feeling bashful after what we did last night.’

Adrien decided to put her at ease.

“Well, purr-haps my Lady would like to tell me why it is she did invite me here on this lovely evening?” he murmured, voice soft and filled with care as he slotted himself against her with a pleasant shiver. Adrien bent down, nestling his forehead in the wondrous spot between her neck and shoulder that seemed to fit him like a glove before slowly easing them into a subtle sway.

“I came here to t-talk…” Ladybug responded, gingerly letting herself be pulled alongside him. Had he not fallen completely under the spell of her familiar scent, Adrien might have noticed the way her words caught against her tongue, the way they vibrated up from her chest in an anxious buzz.

But frankly the boy was gone, and Ladybug’s strange cadence went unnoticed.

“Really now?” Adrien pressed his lips to the seam of her collar, speaking against the skin he found there. “See, I thought we did plenty of talking last night.” His tone pitched just slightly lower, rumbling like a purr out from his dark swaddled chest as he continued to tease at her thrumming pulse. “Well, that is, I talked and you mostly just moaned, but hey…”

He swooped up, whispering the words into her pursed lips.

“…I’m not complaining.”

Ladybug gasped at the kiss.

Chat Noir grinned through it.

And all the built-up heat from the last day and a half channeled itself out, drawn towards her presence as Adrien let it guide him forward. The first touch was all it took for him to never want to stop, his mouth joyously capturing hers as gloved hands situated themselves atop Ladybug’s hips.

“Chat we—“ Her words fell away as he soothed them with his tongue, groaning as he sampled her uniquely intoxicating flavor once again. The new knowledge of all the noises that particular mouth could make only tripled its sweetness, and Adrien swore he could taste the sound of her escaping pleasure as the memory of her undoing resurfaced in his mind.

Ladybug clutched at him, not quite drawing him closer (as was usually the case) but not pushing back, either. Just clinging, as Adrien continued to lead the embrace.

He pulled back just enough to inhale, fingers climbing up her ribs as poignant recollection sparked a craving heat in him.

‘Those noises, her noises…’

Whatever it took, he needed to make her moan.

 “Did I remember to tell you how beautiful you sounded when you came for me, my Lady?” Adrien husked, shaking his head down in wonder at the girl. Ladybug gnawed her lip, alerting his eyes to the fact they were still there for the taking, and inadvertently issuing a challenge he was all too eager to accept.

 “Cha—mmmffmlphh.” Again, whatever request she had was lost as Adrien tried to thread himself into her very being. Ladybug moved differently than usual, less rolling with the embrace and more rolling alongside it, her off-kilter reaction prompting Adrien to press even closer.  

Alternately kissing and whispering along her lips, the hero was floating, drowning in the simple pleasure of having his Lady so close again.

‘Mine…mine…mine.’

“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” Adrien confessed, drawing her taut against the line of his body before smothering her mouth with his once more.

“We—“

Another scorching kiss prevented whatever it was Ladybug had to tell him, and the girl mumbled into the embrace for just second before relinquishing her lips. If Adrien noticed anything off about the way she not-quite returned his kiss, he never gave an indication.

‘Hers…hers…hers…’

Adrien didn’t know why he felt the desperate need to rush, the need to ensure that they were never separated for more than a moment’s breath. He was hers after all (Ladybug has told him as much many a time before), so the breakneck pace at which he latched onto her mouth was entirely unnecessary.  

Because surely there would be a next time, and even a time after that.

Surely there would be more kisses and caresses, each more precious than the last.

Surely there would be—

“STOP,” Ladybug all but shouted, breaking their kiss with the force of her lips as they expelled the word in a firm reprimand. The command shattered the silence of the roof, lodging its way into Adrien’s eardrums and immediately halting his actions with its urgency.

‘Stop… stop… stop…’

Adrien fell back at once, retracting his hands and blinking through his love-fogged vision to focus on her face. What he saw when his eyesight cleared was enough to make his throat close up in the most gut-wrenching of ways, stomach dropping to his knees as he registered his girlfriend’s wracked appearance.

Ladybug was falling apart, and not in the way one should after being kissed.

She was flushed, yes, but not just from exertion. In fact the red of her face was almost alarming, especially when paired with the knit of her brow and the thin line of her freed lips.

But it wasn’t any of those things that suddenly socked Adrien in the abdomen with bitter self-loathing…

It was the tears that sat perched in the eyeholes of her mask. The ones threatening to spill over as her lashes fanned out over the damning moisture.

Every apology Adrien could possibly conjure, every apology he wanted to conjure, got stuck on the lump in his throat, congealing with the regret lodged there until he could hardly breathe through its presence.

‘Too far,’ his mind scolded, the thought slicing at his heart almost as deeply as the sight of the still-very-shaken Ladybug before him. ‘You took it too far.’

“I’m so… I-I didn’t…” Adrien felt a devastating numbness crawl up his body, starting in his fingertips and racing up his limbs. “I shouldn’t have… oh my god…”

The way his partner drew into herself, tucking her hands beneath her armpits and ducking her head, was just another blow alongside the unending barrage of shame that pelted at his heaving chest.

Ladybug shook her head, blinking hard as if to rid herself of her lingering tears as she continued to chew on her lip. His wavering green eyes traced each droplet as it slid, watching as a red shoulder perked up to wipe them away for good (as if their presence wasn’t already etched into his aching ribs).

Adrien was about to make a another (hopefully more coherent) go at apologizing when Ladybug cut him off with a single raised hand, effectively searing his jaw shut as he scrambled to follow her every command.

‘She tried to tell you to stop but you wouldn’t let her.’

The heroine took a steadying breath in and out before slowly approaching his shaking form.

‘You forced her, forced yourself onto her.’

At this point Adrien was ready (perhaps even willing) to accept a blow. His actions more than warranted an ass-kicking and he almost wished Ladybug would just let him have it.

What she did was much worse.

Gloved hands reached towards his cheek — not to strike, but to gently cup his jaw. The touch was delicate, careful in a way that only stirred the seething guilt festering low in Adrien’s stomach.

‘Of course she wouldn’t hit you. Decent people don’t force contact on those they care about.’ The thought burned an acid trail in his lungs.

Slowly (so, so slowly), Ladybug nudged his head to the side, forcing his gaze away from her inscrutably shattered face and turning his attention to the adjacent building.

‘Oh.’

With a quick glance at the previously unnoticed (but now wrenchingly familiar) advertisement that adorned the lit-up façade, Adrien was suddenly all too aware of the reason Ladybug was crying.

Turns out the tears were his fault, just not in the way he’d originally assumed.

“Start explaining...”

‘Goddamn tangerine lipstick—‘

“…now, Adrien.”