a spark, and a fall Chapter 10: x, a miraculous: tales of ladybug & cat noir fanfic

a spark, and a fall

She didn't mean for it to happen. The kiss, that is. It just—happened.

But she finds that she doesn't regret it. On the contrary, she'd really, really, really, really, really like it to "just happen" again.

Except—Adrien. She's in love with Adrien. She is, isn't she? Just the thought of him brings a dopey smile to her face. And yet—

And yet when she bumped her fist against Chat Noir's after that grueling fight and his eyes were sparkling so happily, and he gripped her waist and spun her in the air victoriously, grinning and laughing so genuinely that she couldn't help but join in—when he finally set her down, flushed with excitement, clawed hands still hot against her hips, she could only watch in a daze as her arm stretched itself up to brush his soft bangs out of his eyes. She could only watch as he realized the intimate position they were in, realized she wasn't running away from him, and his eyes darkened just a fraction as his face turned solemn and wanting and maybe even a little desperate.

Her heart gave an involuntary jolt in response. Chat, it sighed.

The air between them was charged with some emotion she couldn't quite place, and didn't really want to analyze. Her fingers left his hair and settled on his shoulders.

And then she couldn't watch—couldn't keep her eyelids open, somehow, they just felt so heavy—as he leaned down ever so slowly, and her lips parted ever so slightly, and his shallow, heated breaths mingled with hers

He spoke. She felt it rather than heard it as the words whispered over her lips: My lady. But she did hear the question in his voice, the hesitant lilt that told her he would never do anything to her that she didn't truly want.

Her answer was in her stillness.

And then his lips were on hers, soft, slow, gentle. She gave a whimper at his tenderness, at the unexpected rush of emotion in her chest, at the rightness of him being her first kiss, and pressed back a little harder.

And then he was gone, ripped himself away from her. The night's cool air flooded in and she shivered mightily, a full-body shake, as her eyes opened in confusion and readjusted. She found him meters away, breathing heavily, hands fisted tight at his sides, refusing to look at her.

"I—" he croaked, then swallowed. He met her eyes briefly—anguish, yearning, fear, confusion, pain—and then he jumped up and disappeared.

Marinette doesn't know what to think anymore. All she knows is that there are two boys fighting for a place in her heart, and right now one of them is certainly winning—but she's not sure he's the one she wants.