start notes—
The possibility of Marinette confessing to Chat Noir: well, yes, but also, no.
my tellonym: milkisande
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confession
scared to confess what I'm feeling,
frightened you'll slip away.
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"I'LL help you."
Marinette could only look on in disbelief. "You'll help me…?" She echoed, confusion evident in her tone. "Help me how?"
"You can confess to me instead!" Chat Noir smiled back at her, almost blinding. "Consider me your training partner, at least for the meantime."
She remained silent.
This was absolutely nothing like how she'd expected things to go.
Frankly, what Marinette expected was to confess to her superhero partner, share a kiss, start dating, and fall in love with each other more and more as the days passed by.
What she did not expect, however, was to confess to him, and to immediately take it back as the words came out of her mouth.
"Just kidding!" Marinette recalled herself saying, only a few minutes ago. "I bet you thought it was real, huh?"
She could practically see Tikki face-palming as she backtracked.
Chat Noir only looked at her then, an unreadable look on his face, before he smiled. "Oh, good, you scared me there!"
She scared him.
Marinette couldn't help but flinch at his response, feeling grateful that she hadn't gone through with her decision completely.
Instead, she smiled back.
And an awkward silence encompassed the balcony.
"So..." Chat Noir began, an awkward lilt to his voice. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"Hm?"
He struggled to find the words to say. "The one you're confessing to?" He asked. "The real one," he laughed, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"It's a secret!" She stated, nervously looking away.
Then, she sighed. "It's not like I'll ever be able to tell him anyway." Marinette looked at him, a meaningful glance in her eyes. "I'm no good at confessing."
Chat Noir smiled. "I know," he laughed softly, seeing her almost insulted expression. "I could barely understand what you meant to say because you were stuttering so much."
She swatted at him, hmphing. "I'm trying my best!"
"It's okay, you're cute anyway."
He said it so quietly, but his confession didn't stay unheard.
Marinette paused, then shook her head. He was probably teasing again.
She playfully punched him. "Thanks."
Another bout of silence.
Until Chat Noir finally spoke. "You know…" he started, "I can help you out."
His offer still seemed unreal to her now.
She blinked.
Once,
Twice,
Thrice.
Nope, this wasn't a dream. This was definitely real.
Marinette only stared. "You want me to practice with you?"
"Yup!" The hero replied, pointedly ignoring her doubtful look. "Look, you need to work on your confessions." A slap at his chest. "And I'm free! I can give you advice on how to improve!"
"So… you're okay with me confessing to you?"
"Sure! I mean, it's all for pretend, right?"
They looked at each other, only a few meters apart, but never feeling more far away and out-of-sync with each other.
"Right." Marinette finally responded, before frowning.
"What's in it for you, though?"
Chat Noir only smiled. It was soft, fond, almost loving.
She pushed the thought away.
"Let's just say that I'm not exactly losing anything with this deal."
.
.
And that's how it went, for a few weeks.
Chat Noir would always stop by her balcony, and give Marinette tips on how to confess.
Speak more clearly. Be more honest. Look me directly in the eye. "I love you."
She couldn't put into words how mentally exhausting it was, to confess to your crush, over and over and over again, only for him to never take her seriously.
Granted, this was her fault: but really, how dense could he be to buy into the excuse of practicing confessions?
Marinette sighed.
She was getting too comfortable with this.
With them.
Maybe they were getting too carried away, but Marinette felt like they actually were dating.
With all the confessions, they had fallen into a rhythm that was much too familiar with each other to just be friends; they were much more touchy— holding hands, lying on each other's chests, playing with each other's hair; and they were always pressed together, always with some form of skin ship ensuring that they were never too far apart.
It was too close, she knew it.
But it was too damned good to stop.
They were in her bedroom, and Marinette lay on his lap, his gloved fingers gently combing through her hair.
She was surprised to know how warm they felt.
They were lovers in every sense of the word— save for the fact that they didn't label themselves in that way.
Marinette hummed, closing her eyes as he continued to stroke her head.
Chat Noir had been going on about points for impurrovement (as he so liked to put it), and she found his voice to be a calming lullaby.
"Feeling sleepy, milady?" He finally asked. "Do you want me to leave?"
Marinette immediately shook her head, nuzzling closer to him. "No, stay here please." She whispered. "With me?"
He nodded wordlessly, hands still gently holding her.
A comfortable silence encompassed them.
Then:
"So, when are you confessing?"
Marinette's eyes fluttered open, dejection threatening to creep into her expression. She swallowed the feeling down. "Soon, probably." She said, almost too low for him to actually hear it. "Do you think I'm ready to confess?"
The unspoken question lay in the air.
Neither of them dared ask it.
Instead, Chat Noir looked at her, piercing green eyes meeting her own blue ones. "I think…" he started, "you're still not ready."
She looked up at him. "Really?" Marinette asked, desperately pushing the feeling that threatened to creep up her skin. Hope. "You've been having less comments though."
"You're still not ready." He only repeated, turning away, in time for Marinette to fail to see the red dusting his cheeks. "You could still improve." An unreadable look on his face. "You're still not brave enough."
She swallowed.
Not brave enough?
Marinette looked up at him.
Chat Noir.
It was just three words; three words and eight letters that she'd been saying constantly for the past month— that she'd been saying to him constantly for the past month.
This shouldn't be too hard.
"I love you."
Marinette whispered, her voice barely reaching the corners of the room.
Chat Noir only looked at her, that same unreadable expression on his face. "That's better, but—"
He paused at her gaze as she sat up, facing him directly.
She took his hands in hers.
"No," Marinette began, shaking her head. "No more tips."
She looked down at their hands, lip quivering.
Then, with renewed determination:
"I love you, Chat Noir."
There was only a split second before she was pulled forward in an embrace, his lips capturing hers.
He smiled, eyes twinkling, as they let go. "I still have some comments, but—"
"Chat, I swear…"
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end notes—
if any of you are vocaloid fans it was based on "confession rehearsal" from honeyworks, which is basically about this girl who confesses to her crush, but immediately takes it back— and they end up in this weird relationship where she 'practices' confessing to him, until she finds the heart to say it honestly. (it's actually rlly cute this fic didn't do the concept justice:)
anyway, i didn't really like how this ended up, but o well. i'm also starting to realize that my blushy / flustered chat fics also get the most attention and i hear y'all . mayb working on a new fic with that who knows :D anyways,
thank you for reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～