…

Marinette once confessed she would give Chat Noir a chance if not for her feelings for Adrien; she vaguely wondered how a relationship with her fellow superhero would go.

She imagined him doing something incredibly cheesy and cliché; showing up with a bouquet of insanely colorful flowers, winking at her and bowing a little – being her flirty little cat, but then he would take her hand and kiss the back of it, murmuring how beautiful she was. She'd be rolling her eyes at him, pulling her hand away and bopping him on the nose, but she would be smiling and there may or may not be a hint of red splashed across her freckled cheeks, something he would certainly comment on.

And sometimes, when Marinette let her imagination and fantasies intertwine, she would think about Chat Noir sneaking into her bedroom just to check in on his beloved Princess, only to somehow end up with his mouth crushed against hers, a forbidden rendezvous between the baker's daughter and the other half of Paris' superhero duo. She would revel in the fact that he would desire her – Marinette – in a way that she was sure no one else would. He would get a thrill out of corrupting this supposedly innocent, sweet civilian, reveling in the excitement that came with their little affair. It would be their midnight secret.

Yet, with all the time she spent fantasizing about Chat Noir – even if she would never admit to such a thing, she would have never imagined something like this happening.

Marinette wasn't sure what had caused his change in the first place, but she never in a million years, would have imagined her fantasy to come true – with a twist, however.

"What's wrong, Princess? You seem out of it," breathed Chat, green eyes glowing in the darkness of her bedroom. He had her arms pinned down, their legs hopelessly tangled, making it impossible to escape – as if she wanted to.

Marinette looked up at him, lashes fluttering. "Just thinking, Chat. Don't stop on my account, however." She gave him a look. "After all, I thought we weren't talking. Talking is too…normal, isn't it?"

Chat's smirk was nearly unbearable. "You're right about that, Princess."

And his mouth crashed against hers, whatever words left on their tongues dying instantly as he clawed at the hem of her shirt and her hands buried themselves in his golden hair.

When she closed her eyes, lost in the kiss, she almost managed to forget how much he had changed, how wrong it felt, how right it felt, how bright his now white costume was.

Almost.

…

Ladybug was pinned down, trapped, her eyes wide as her partner – former partner – held his claw over her face, teasing her as something dangerous lingered his cold, unfamiliar emerald eyes.

"Chat," she murmured, looking up at him. "This isn't you."

She couldn't fight him. Not anymore.

It had been weeks – weeks, since Hawkmoth turned her partner against her. Why, oh why, did people always say that Chat Noir was so unnecessary? Say that he was only bringing her down? As if they knew her – knew them! Ladybug was nothing without her Chat Noir – she was so sure that everyone knew that, that he knew that!

"Don't tell me what isn't me," snarled Chat, face screwing up as he regarded her with disgust – with hatred. "You don't know anything about me, my Lady."

He spat out the once overdone but endearing nickname with a tone that was nothing but venomous.

The area around Chat's eyes darkened, Hawkmoth's signature, and her partner growled under his breath as he glanced up at the sky. "I know! Shut up!"

Chat's eyes snapped back to her, drawing his claw closer to her face. Despite the fact that she was shaking, her eyes were filled with nothing but worry – worry for him, he realized with a jolt. It was ridiculous; here she was, about to die from her former partner's hand, and she was worried for him?

Her big blue eyes were always captivatingly beautiful to him, always glittering like gems in the darkness, yet far from being delicate…in fact, only one other person had the same resolution in her eyes as his beloved Lady…

Marinette.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who sat behind in class; the girl who couldn't manage to say more than a few words to him, his civilian form, before turning as red as a fire engine and sprinting away; the one who smelled as sweet as she looked; the one who tasted sweeter than anything he had ever consumed; the one whose form was pressed against his own every night, mouth crushed against his like they were each other's oxygen supply.

Marinette, whose kisses, whose companies, had kept his humanity in check these last few weeks. Who reminded him that there was something sinful in innocence, something innocent in sin; who reminded him there was beauty, there was light at the end of the dark tunnel he couldn't escape from.

Until her, the only one to remind him of that light was now pinned underneath him with a Cataclysm-charged claw teasingly hovering over her face – her beautiful, beautiful face that had always lit up his darkest days, that never looked at him with fear, even in this moment.

It was the same resolution, the same look in their eyes.

Despite clearly knowing that there was something different about him, Marinette had continued to bless him with her kisses, had continued to welcome him into her home and embrace him.

And despite knowing something was wrong with her partner, despite knowing she had to be the superhero and stop him, Ladybug had continued to plead with him, continued to get close to him – not to fight him, not to stop his dangerous actions, but to help him, to comfort him.

How had he not seen it before?

Chat Blanc looked down at Ladybug, who now had tears building up in the corner of her eyes, tears that she refused to let fall. He had done that. He had done that to her.

"Do it already, Chat," whispered Ladybug. "I won't fight you anymore."

"My Lady," began Chat, his voice no louder than hers. "When have we ever truly fought?"

He moved his claw away, instead gripping the rusting pole that had been left untouched on the building's roof, and let that rot away instead of his partner's lovely form.

"Chat?" Her voice was so soft, so cautious, so hopeful.

He could hear Hawkmoth screaming in his head, but he paid the older man no attention as he released his grip on Ladybug and got off of her, sitting instead in front of her. A few moments later, she sat up and looked at him curiously.

"Chat?" She repeated, moving towards him.

She spoke like she was genuinely concerned for him, as if he had just showed up to their usual patrol quieter than usual, not like he had just tried to kill her. Oh god, he had just tried to…!

He curled up into a ball, taking a shuddering breath as he choked on a sob.

"I…I am so, so sorry, my Lady," he cried, his voice quiet and lost like a child who had realized no one was there to comfort him. "I am so sorry…Marinette."

Ladybug, who had been moving forward to comfort him, froze. And in an instant, her previous suspicions crashed together at once; memories of Adrien skipping photo shoots, of coming to school later – on days he came at all, of his colder, harsher attitude towards everyone. Memories of the claw marks found across the poster of Adrien Agreste, memories of Natalie coming into the school one day in hopes that her boss' son was there, memories of the chillingly familiar smirks Adrien would give her in class…it all came crashing down on her.

And before she could even register what all of that meant, she had thrown her arms around her partner. The second he felt her, the second she embraced him like he hadn't just done her great wrong, he broke.

His body wracked with sobs as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closer, burying his face in her shoulder. Her fingers ran through his hair, caressing him and loving him.

Slowly, Ladybug reached for his ring and he let her. The moment the piece of jewelry was off his finger, he transformed back into the perfect disaster that was Adrien Agreste, and as the black ring quickly turned silver, a small black kwami flew out in exhaustion, as did a particular butterfly.

Ladybug was quick to purify the wretched thing, watching it fly away momentarily, before she turned her attention back to Adrien. With a quick word to her own kwami, Marinette stood in front of the model.

Their kwamis were exchanging words, concerned and relieved looks, but their partners paid them little mind as Marinette kneeled in front of Adrien, who refused to look at her, tears still streaming down his face.

"Adrien," her voice was so soft, so warm and inviting. He didn't deserve it. "Adrien, look at me."

Like a stubborn child, he shook his head and refused.

"Adrien, look at me." Marinette took hold of his face, forcing him to turn and meet her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes. "It's going to be okay."

There were so many things he wanted to say, to tell her. But she was always the thinker, the schemer; she was already a step ahead of him.

"Marinette," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Make me human."

And he pulled her close, crashing his lips against hers for certainly not the first time. But for the first time, there was something else other than desperation and plain desire.

There was love.

…

I own nothing.

So everyone always talks about Chat Noir having midnight rendezvous with Marinette, and everyone always talks about Chat Blanc sadistically fighting Ladybug. Random thought: what if you have both?