Marinette

The street was quiet as Marinette walked, the rhythmic crunch of her boots on the pavement the only sound breaking through the hush of the late afternoon. The air was sharp with the bite of winter, and the wind whipped around her, pulling at the hem of her coat and making her cheeks flush with the cold. She pulled her scarf tighter, trying to ignore the feeling of something missing, something she couldn't quite place. There was something about yesterday's conversation with Chat Noir that stuck in her mind, a thread that hadn't quite unravelled, something important that she kept circling but couldn't quite grasp.

She sighed, the mist of her breath swirling in the chilly air as she walked, her mind drifting back to their exchange, trying to latch onto that elusive detail. But the harder she tried to remember, the more it slipped away. Maybe it wasn't as significant as she thought.

The wind howled again, cutting through the streets like a warning, and she looked up at the sky, now darkening with the weight of impending snow. Her gaze lingered on the distant horizon where the clouds were thickening and rolling in. Was it bad that part of her actually hoped it would? She couldn't help but imagine being snowed in at the bakery for the Christmas holiday—cosy and warm with the world outside blanketed in white. A perfect excuse to slow down, to breathe, to just be. And to stay in Paris.

She continued down the street, the sounds of stressed parents urging their children along, the laughter and chatter weaving through the cold air like the last remnants of autumn. The weight of the city around her felt like an invisible pressure, but her thoughts were distracted, her steps slowing as the mansion loomed ahead. It took her a moment to fully register its presence, and when she did, she froze, staring up at the towering facade, now gleaming with festive decorations. The house looked like something out of a holiday movie–every inch covered in twinkling Christmas lights, wreaths adorning the door, and garlands draped across the balcony railings.

Adrien must have spent a fortune on it all. She could imagine him pacing halls, picking out every detail with the kind of care only he had. This was a far cry from the house she remembered when Gabriel was still around, when the idea of Christmas cheer was met with cold indifference. The most festive thing they'd get was Gabriel's version of a 'Ho, Ho' throw – out of the house, followed by the clatter of something being forcefully evicted, typically Nino.

A sharp breeze cut through her thoughts, and she shook herself out of her reverie, turning the corner toward the gates. But when she got closer, her breath caught in her throat. Even the old gates were gone.

In their place stood something completely unexpected: sleek, modern gates, designed with bold, angular lines and splashes of colour that almost seemed playful. They were funky, fashionable—completely at odds with the intimidating, wrought-iron barriers that used to guard the mansion. Now, instead of their cold, imposing presence, the new gates were adorned with Christmas wreaths and twinkling lights, a cheerful contrast to the sombre mansion she once knew.

For a second, she couldn't decide whether to laugh or just stand there, bewildered. Everything about this—this house, these gates, Adrien's obvious effort to bring some lightness into his world—felt different. More... alive. She was standing at the threshold of a new chapter, one she wasn't sure she was ready for, but somehow, she knew she had to step through.

Nervously, she pressed the doorbell, her finger lingering a moment longer than necessary as she waited. She half-expected the screen to flicker on, Nathalie's stern face appearing, followed by her sharp, disapproving voice scolding her for showing up unannounced. But instead, the screen remained dark.

Then, a soft woman's voice came through the intercom, startling her. 'Hello?'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said. 'I must have got the wrong house'. She went to walk away only for the voice on the other side of the intercom to call her back.

'No. Wait…don't go! You look familiar.'

Familiar? Oh, man. Was this Adrien's 'bit on the side'? She was sure there wasn't a girlfriend or wife, but that didn't mean he wasn't seeing someone. This was a bad idea. A bad, bad idea. She should just leave. Maybe it would be better if she dropped Alya a text for his number and sent him a message? All she knew was she was suddenly feeling rather queasy.

'Oh my goodness! Are you Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?' The voice on the other side of the intercom sounded more excited than the time Marinette had met Ryan Reynolds.

The plummeting continued further down and down, lower and lower until she was sure her stomach was in her shoes. 'I - um - yes, I'm Marinette.'

'Come in, come in!' she said with an excited voice.

Did she want to rub it in Marinette's face that she now had Adrien? The thought nagged at her as the gate clicked open, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet air. Marinette pushed through, stepping into the front courtyard of the mansion, the place she had once wandered through so often, filled with memories that felt both distant and painfully close. She had never dreaded walking these steps before, but now her heart felt heavy with uncertainty.

She had no claim over Adrien any more. That much was clear. She'd given that up years ago when she'd broken up with him and left—turning her back on everything they had shared. They were nothing more than memories now, distant echoes of a time that felt long past.

But as she reached the top of the steps and the door swung open, her breath caught in her chest. In that instant, she realised something she hadn't fully admitted to herself before: Adrien still held a place in her heart. And maybe, just maybe, he always would.

But as she looked at the beautiful blonde with an adorable child settled on her hip, she knew she'd lost her chance.

Adrien

Adrien was going certifiably insane!

'Again,' the small voice yelled, more a demand than a request.

'Emily, you've had it three times already. Can we, please, listen to something else?' Sophia placed a hand on Emily's shoulder trying to calm the impending tantrum that was tethering on the edge.

She placed her fork down before turning to face her nanny and staring her square in the eye. 'No!'

Adrien could feel his nostrils flare and had no idea how Sophia dealt with this 'threenager' all day, almost every day. She must be in possession of some magical power. Maybe he should check her out for a Miraculous.

'Sweetheart, you like the other songs too. How about we listen to—'

'I. WANT. BRUNO.' Emily grabbed her fork and launched it off the table.

Adrien's jaw clenched, and he could feel a growl (yes, a growl) bubbling up inside him. 'Emily Nathalie Agreste, I'm warning you—'

'I. WANT. BRUNO.'

Before Emily could send the plate like a Frisbee across the kitchen, Adrien launched forward and pulled it from its place in front of her and added it near his own by the sink.

Silence filled the area as the three attendees stood still—waiting….waiting…waiting…

Then it happened.

Emily let out a loud, startling scream, causing Adrien and Sophia to wince from the pain of the impact. She continued, and he knew this would be going on a while. As much as he loved his little sister, she was a terror hidden behind beautiful blue eyes. Also like another blue-eyed beauty he knew.

Damn it! Now was not the time to be thinking about Ladybug….well, Marinette. Though a quick look at his watch was a stark reminder that he said he would be meeting up with her at some point tonight. An appointment he was debating with himself about keeping.

He sighed, puffing the air out as his hands rubbed through his hair.

'I'll go and run her bath.' Sophia, the traitor, found a moment to leave the room and took it. He made a mental note to deduct this betrayal from her Christmas bonus.

He turned back to his sister. 'Right, time to calm down. You're tired and grumpy, and you need to go to bed.'

'I don't want bed!' Emily struggled against him as he pulled her down from the seat.

'Well, you need it. You're grumpy, which means you're tired.'

'I not tired!' she squealed again.

The doorbell rang, momentarily pausing the unwanted argument. They both stopped, looked towards the hall, then back at each other. 'I get it!' Emily shouted, punctuating her statement with a quick kick to his ankle before running out of the kitchen.

'I've got it!' Sophia called, Adrien rubbing a hand over his shin and suppressing the need to curse out loud. He loved his sister, he really did. But some days he had to take a moment or two to remind himself why.

As muffled voices drifted in from the hallway, Adrien moved around the kitchen, tidying the counters and tossing out stray wrappers, all while listening to the faint exchange near the door. Whoever had rung the bell was clearly someone familiar—Sophia had let her into the house without hesitation. Sophia rarely allowed unexpected guests inside without good reason.

'You're pretty,' came his sister's voice from the hallway—an impressive compliment from his little diva. He smiled to himself, still half-listening, until he caught the reply.

A voice. One he'd know anywhere. It had haunted his nightmares and lit up his dreams. His pulse kicked up, disbelief and panic washing over him in equal measure.

The door to the kitchen pushed open, and he froze, his heart hammering wildly. His hand went limp, the plate he was holding dropped with an almighty clatter. The sounds of it spiralling out of control, similar to his heart, as it struggled to lie flat against the counter.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the light from the hallway, was his crime fighting partner.

'Marinette?'