I'm sorry I haven't updated this in a while! This is part 1 of the Adrienette side of the square, so please look foward to part 2. I hope you like it!
Disquietude resonates in the one heart of two women.
Love like swallowed fire curling around fear like blackened hope.
Marinette holds all of it in with impossible happiness. So, in turn, does Ladybug.
Somehow Chat Noir is lax to notice. She isn't sure if this is to her great chagrin or pleasure.
The cat who once wooed her watches the world with eyes that seek what isn't there. A gaze that sees through her. The flirting has dissolved into sighs of longing... for the woman he doesn't know she is. And she ponders, puzzles, chews the thoughts in her mind till they corrode her with doubt. Would she, could she, love whomever Chat Noir isn't? And would all of her be too much for him? Perhaps not enough?
Marinette wonders if she'd been falling all along- slowly, like sinking into molasses- before tumbling and reeling and then loving her kitten all at once. The newness of it thrills her. Suddenly the world is saturated and endless before her and when, as Ladybug, she thinks that Chat Noir isn't looking she shows him the hearts in her eyes with a stifled smile.
The spring in her step is wild joy when she swings and leaps gracefully along the picturesque backdrop of her city. Because underneath the crimson she is also Marinette, and she is in love, and her love fights unknowingly beside her.
But she does stumble.
Her other self will suddenly find herself wanting to hold herself against Chat after battle. Run her red laden fingers through his wild blonde hair and feel the purr reverberate against her hands. But even when she lets it show, Chat Noir merely laughs and teases and turns to face nothing, or so it seems, until she realizes that the direction he faces always points to home.
Her home.
And on the nights in which Chat Noir appears it becomes his too, although Marinette suspects that he could hold her in his arms and anywhere he took her- the moon or the sun or the end of all things- would feel theirs.
Chat watches her. Praises her. And on the nights in which their laughter shifts them against one another just so, molds to her form until kiss-swollen lips say only his name to the dark. But he doesn't have her again, nor asks to, and the ache of his absence within her begins to grow.
Is it her? Is it him? Is it-
"Do you think it's time for the truth?" The little red kwami asks softly one day, petting
Marinette's hair like a friend and sister and guardian. Tikki has never been anything less.
"But I'm not supposed to tell-"
"Well you aren't supposed to give up who you are to be Ladybug, either, Marinette. You've done wonderfully over the past few years. You've given so much of yourself to Paris. And it's okay to love him. Would you like to know a secret?" Tikki chatters soothingly.
"Yes?"
"Every Ladybug I've ever watched over has fallen in love."
Oh.
It's not just a secret. It's the kwami's permission, archaic and gentle. Had that also been part of what held her back? It must have been, Marinette thinks as a sigh of relief leaves her and she presses a kiss to the tiny creature's forehead.
"Thank you, Tikki." She smiles in understanding and begins to prepare her mind for whatever may come.
It's with that same rich mixture of trepidation and anticipatory ache that Marinette bounds straight into the body of another person at her internship. Scatters a rainbow of fabrics all over the floor, apologizing before even opening her bright blue eyes.
"It's fine. Are you alright?"
She's already scrambling along and gathering her bearings but nods.
"Let me help you. Oh," the stranger stops suddenly, "it's you Pr- Marinette!"
"Adrien?" The flustered designer-in-the-making looks up at a very familiar face.
"Hi. How've you been? I loved the suit you made for our last shoot. It fit me perfectly. You're gonna give Vera Wang a run for her money someday, I swear." Is he babbling?
"That was for you? I was just given measurements to work off of so I had no idea. I'm glad you liked it, though!" Is she speaking to him... normally?
They collect the materials in an oddly palpable sort of silence, Adrien claiming the last piece and piling it onto her stack carefully. Fingertips gently touch her own and linger, warmth bubbling under her skin in response. She looks up into eager eyes so bright a green that they could be mistaken for peridots inlaid into porcelain.
"I've actually been meaning to talk to you." Adrien says with one hand tossed behind his shoulder and scratching at his neck.
"You have?"
The beauty of that face, Marinette tells herself, is surely what's causing her to feel like there's a current making her hair stand on end. She hasn't thought of Adrien in the way she used to for quite some time. Not since-
"Ah, Adrien!"
A slender man with high cheek bones and carbon hair ruffled then dyed blue at its tips rushes towards them. In his tan hands are several stacked folders and a soft green... something. Somehow, Marinette notes enviously, everyone around the place is capable of running around with full hands except her.
"Thank heavens I found you! You are free today, non?"
"Hi Louis. Uh, I-"
"It's a crisis! I need you desperately!"
Smiling lopsidedly, the young woman merely observes the peculiar sight. It plays out like a strange love scene right out of a romantic comedy… of which she is not the heroine.
"Our model for the menswear of this year's spring collection is a no show! He called off sick with a flu! A flu! As if that cannot simply be painted over with concealer! And the handler refused to work on anyone else. I smell a romance curdling like camembert-"
Did Adrien just wince?
"-and rotting their careers! The kisses better be worth it. No one cancels on an Agreste project and gets back to work with ease!"
"So you want me to substitute? As in... now?"
Louis practically jumps in place. "I knew you would help! Merci!"
Dark eyes pause to rest on Marinette and she grins with an awkward nervousness that barely suits her pretty face.
"Bring her along. You'll need a stylist. For fixes, tears, you know. I couldn't find anyone who wasn't booked or off."
"But I just intern here, sir. I've never..."
"Exactement! You should be grateful for the experience. Besides, Juliette recommended the cardigan you created for the line. Clearly you ought to be able to arrange the rest, since you captured the distinct vibe they wanted."
The fabrics in her hand greet the ground for a second time.
Louis is well known for three things: being fashionable, flamboyant, and infallibly persistent. While Marinette herself works closely with the classy and clean-cut Juliette, Louis is the neon and pastel to her primary and neutrals. Where they clash in style they mesh in ideals, often brainstorming for whatever projects required more than a single eye.
As of now the insistent part of the man's nature is front and center, nearly yanking Marinette towards the set she'd been forced to go to. The ride over had been terribly awkward, she stuck with the chatty man while Adrien reluctantly rode in his usual bodyguard driven vehicle. Louis instructed her to 'prep, prep, prep' which included fixing any minimal damage to the clothing, last minute adjustments, and-
"His makeup? I don't know anything about doing-"
"Oh cheri, of course you do! You expect me to believe your lashes are real? Don't be so modest. Just make certain to bring out his cheekbones. Gabriel prefers a more severe emphasis now that he's older. A warmer shade to bring out that Agreste glow, if you would. You'll do fine!"
There was a chill in her veins that Marinette knew had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
The area for the shoot is well lit, pristine white backdrop at the ready. She's led to a different space that holds racks of clothing and a spacious vanity. Immediately blue eyes begin scanning her tools: Lustre drops? CC cream? Why are there so many brushes in so many shapes? It's becoming increasingly clear that she'll have to call Alya and study Youtube once the ordeal is over.
Marinette trails pale fingers across the top of a wispy brush with two-toned bristles and marvels at its softness. It feels like petting a rabbit from the local zoo. The clothes catch her eye next- light washed jeans and relaxed shirts and clean cut jackets. There are even boots and loafers in five different colors. And best of all, she thinks with a swallowed squeal, her cardigan!
It sits on a black velvet hanger like a slouched yet contented prisoner, the hand-knit meadow green stitched to perfection. The slightly puffed sleeves and v-neck had been the most laborious details, and the chunky midnight buttons the easiest. She could easily picture it over a collared shirt and tie, or even on its own over a tee...
"You beat me here."
Adrien's voice- delectably silky, a swallow of merlot on her tongue- nearly echoes in the room.
She whirls in surprise (certainly not because of the masculine music he speaks in, no) and then relaxes visibly, shoulders easing back.
"I'm so sorry. Honestly. I had no idea that Louis would basically kidnap you and force you into this."
"Oh, no!" Marinette smiles with a wave of hands. "It's fine. It'll be great! I just wish I knew what to do first. Designing is my specialty. This… really isn't."
"Well you'll want to start with the outfit, so makeup doesn't smudge onto it while I change into everything."
"That makes sense, actually."
Oh hell. She's about to play dress-up with the man she'd once loved from afar as if it were as simple as breathing air. While strange in its own right, the situation also brings with it a certain degree of power. Anything she likes he'll wear, Marinette thinks as she runs her hands over each beautifully crafted piece. The many ads and photos she used to collect of him (and plaster to every inch of her bedroom) flood into her mind and cheeks.
Adrien had always been painted prim and proper, not a single blonde hair out of place. Consistently and traditionally handsome. Dressed in button-up shirts and slim pants. Clothes that he wore well…
But weren't him.
That was it!
Marinette begins to grin, combing through her options in a blaze of inspiration. Hangers slide across the metal pole of the rack as she rejects anything that looks predictable. If she absolutely has to be his stylist, then Adrien will be made over, and 'perfection' is not a part of the edgy, carefree picture she intends to paint.
"Can you try these on?" Her voice murmurs from behind a stack that comprises the first outfit.
Adrien laughs and she is positive that something special happens somewhere whenever he does. Perhaps flowers bloom, or storms cease, or nearby pulses leap like wild horses at play. "You look so serious right now. I guess you're more composed when you mean business."
"You're right. I am." She winks. "So get to it!"
"Yes ma'am." He sighs in mock defeat before proceeding to remove his shirt and Marinette's soul in one fell swoop.
Adrien is something beyond beautiful.
Woven from steel and shaped by angels and brushed with gold dust.
The sight of his lean yet unexpectedly muscular chest causes Marinette's mouth to become desert dry; she can almost feel the hot sand pouring down her throat. Azure eyes roam cautiously, until the sight of dusky pink nipples and an imperative 'V' of flesh where his jeans cling low cause wasteland to progress to ocean.
"There is no curtain Marinette. You know, you're supposed to help dress me. Technically speaking of course." Springtime eyes sparkle, a bashful smile tugging at Adrien's lips. A flirtation that a very blinded pseudo-stylist is wont to be stricken by.
"Oh! I can definitely do that. I mean, if I have to. If you want me to, just-"
"I'm teasing. You're not even really supposed to be here. And I sort of hate being 'handled'. I'm pretty sure I can dress myself… though I'm not ever supposed to protest."
"I guess it's a good thing I have no idea what I'm doing." Marinette laughs nervously as she turns away to allow him to finish. Attempts to convince herself that she doesn't want another peek all the while.
The final product is exactly what she wants: black low cut leather boots with a single silver buckle, dark wash jeans that flatter but don't hug, a simple white tee, and the brighter green of her handmade cardigan.
She claps happily before ushering him to the seat by the vanity. Adrien shuts his eyes without being told, face going utterly slack as he becomes her canvas. What on earth should she do? And why on earth do they ever coat him in makeup when he is already so divine? Marinette studies Adrien's untouched features closer than she's ever seen them: the thick arches of his brows, the curve of gold-tipped lashes, the barest hint of color at his smooth cheeks.
It brings her to thoughts of her mother. Sabine Dupain-Cheng had taught her that beauty started in the heart and grew outwards. As thus, Marinette had grown up donning a bare face without much thought. She'd never been one for cosmetic endeavors and all of the complications they entailed. Why strive so hard to look like someone she wasn't ?
With a smile on her face the young designer dips into a small jar labeled 'La Mer' and gently dots the cold white cream along the model's face. Massages it in with nervous fingers until she feels that it's absorbed before proceeding to coat his lips in a thin layer of a metal-tipped balm. Something is still missing…
Ah.
Noting the box of jewelry that has been selected for the shoot Mainette quickly decides on a simple bar of silver that hangs off of a thin black cord. Very carefully, she clasps it behind Adrien's neck and giggles- it sits like a collar at his throat. In a rush of inspiration her hand reaches into thick blonde hair and musses until its signature part has been done away with. A touch of hairspray is all that's needed to keep the artistic chaos of it in place as she steps back.
The overall effect is something akin to secrets and beachside picnics and toffee colored scotch coating the curve of a glass. Adrien looks manly and-
He appraises himself in the mirror as Marinette nearly whispers "What do you think?"
Confident.
He exudes a sort of slyness that she hadn't ever known his face was capable of.
"No makeup. You messed with my hair. And there isn't a tie in sight. Marinette."
"Yes?"
His pearl toothed grin pierces her heart gently; metal cutting into butter.
"I really love this."
Sorry to split this but if I kept going it would have been long enough to be its own story, lol. Please look foward to part2 and whatever else follows. Thank you for the reviews!