Chapter 5 - Somebody Help Me, My Girlfriend is a Walking Fantasy
Adrien's POV:
I was not ready.
I mean, I thought I was.
I thought I'd just show up, say good morning.
Help her learn some basic Mandarin so she can talk to her uncle during her next visit to China.
You know, wholesome boyfriend stuff. I even brought flashcards.
But then—she opened the door.
And I forgot every single word in Mandarin. Every French word too. Honestly, I forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing this loose white tee that fell just enough off one shoulder to show skin and a black bra strap that had no business being that hot.
Her hair was still damp, twisted up in a messy bun with these soft little strands framing her face.
Her cheeks were flushed, probably from running down the stairs but it looked like the kind of blush that belonged in a dream.
And her jeans?
God.
They clung to her like they were painted on.
Not in an obvious way, not like she was trying to look hot. Which somehow made it ten times worse. Or better? I don't know.
I just know I was standing there with a stack of language books while my brain looped, 'Don't stare. Don't stare. She's your girlfriend. Be respectful. But also, holy hell—she's MY girlfriend so why not'
"Hey," she said, voice slightly breathless, a strand of hair sticking to her cheek.
I swallowed. My mouth was so dry.
"Hi."
And that was it. That was all I could say. One syllable.
She stepped back to let me in, and the scent of her shampoo something soft and floral hit me like a truck.
She was still warm from the shower, and I could see the little droplets sliding down the back of her neck.
"Sorry! I totally forgot you were coming this early," she said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she led me up to her room.
"I was up late with Alya and fell asleep at like 3."
"It's okay," I smiled.
Her room looked the same organized chaos, fabric swatches everywhere, magazines, my photo shoot pictures and group selfies with sticky notes on every surface but now it had this humid, steamy air from her shower and the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mixing together.
She plopped down on the floor beside her desk, grabbing a notebook.
"Okay! I'm ready to learn mandarin, Let's start!" she grinned.
I sat beside her slowly, praying my jeans would hide the fact that I was still slightly malfunctioning from the sight of her damp collarbone and the sliver of waist that peeked out every time she shifted.
And then she leaned over to look at the flashcards I brought, her hair brushing my arm, her knee bumping mine.
This study session is going to be hell.
But like… the best kind of hell.
After a few minutes.
She was so into learning.
Like laser focus. Dead serious.
Marinette was sitting cross-legged beside me, notebook balanced on her lap, brows furrowed in adorable concentration as she repeated the Mandarin phrases I gave her.
Her lips moved slowly around the tones, careful and sweet, and I wasn't listening to a single damn word she was saying.
Not because I didn't care or something. I want to help her talk to her uncle.
I want to be a good boyfriend who is supportive, helpful and the perfect guy who could stay calm and focused even when his girlfriend looked like she stepped out of a daydream.
I tried my best to focus and help Marinette who looks so determined to learn at least the basic sentences.
But then.
Her shirt had slipped even lower. That soft curve of her shoulder was bare, her collarbone glistening slightly from the leftover dampness.
The fabric of her tee clung to her side, molding just enough to hint at the soft shape of her boobs underneath.
And every time she shifted forward to write something, the hem of the shirt lifted just a little, flashing a teasing sliver of her waist.
She was sitting there innocently repeating,
"Zǎoshang hǎo… zhè shì shénme… nǐ hǎo ma…"
And all I could think was—
Fuck.
I want to Kiss her.
No scratch that...I want to kiss her senseless. Kiss till we forget our names.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, lips pursed in deep concentration. Her black bra strap peeked out again, and I swear it was taunting me.
Here I am sitting and literally holding flashcards, thinking about how her body would feel like under my hands, wondering how it'd be if I sucked on her soft juicy lips.
What kind of moans she'd make if I pressed my lips to her neck.
I am a Monster!!!
"Adrien?" she blinked up at me, eyes wide, lips parted.
"Was that right? 'Nǐ huì shuō zhōngwén ma?' Did I get the tone right?"
My jaw clenched.
Not from frustration.
From trying not to imagine her saying that while straddling me.
I had to look away.
Get it together Agreste!! You're here to help your girlfriend!!!
"Y-yeah," I said, voice lower than it should be.
"Perfect pronounciation Marinette"
She beamed, cheeks glowing with pride. That glow. That smile. I was one second away from completely losing it.
She leaned closer to repeat another phrase and my brain short-circuited.
Her knee brushed mine. Her scent wrapped around me again, shampoo, vanilla, something soft and girly that made my chest tighten.
And then—
She tilted her head.
A strand of her damp hair had fallen into her face. I reached out without thinking and tucked it behind her ear. Her breath caught.
Our eyes locked.
I could see the flutter in her lashes. The curve of her lips. That warm blush that rose to her cheeks and spread down her neck.
I was sure if I slid my fingers along her skin, I'd feel that heat.
I leaned in, slow.
She leaned too.
Barely a breath apart now. My eyes dropped to her lips.
Soft. Pink. Slightly parted.
Inviting.
I imagined sucking on that bottom lip. Then trailing down—
Licking her neck. Kissing her collarbone. Sliding my hands up her tee, fingers brushing her skin, making her gasp.
My jeans are getting real uncomfortable.
"Adrien…" she whispered.
I didn't know if she was saying it because she wanted to kiss me—
Or because she just remembered another Chinese phrase.
Doesn't matter.
Because I leaned in closer and she leaned in.
And just as our lips were about to meet
Knock knock.
We froze.
Both of us whipped our heads toward the door.
"Sweetheart! Do you and Adrien want any snacks? I made dumplings!" Her Mom's voice was casual and cheery, completely unaware of what's happening inside.
I wanted to scream into a pillow.
Marinette blinked like she was rebooting.
"O-oh! Yes! Thanks Maman!" she called back, already scrambling to stand up, face red like a tomato.
Meanwhile, I just sat there.
Books in lap.
And a very obvious problem in my jeans.
Somebody Help Me, My Girlfriend is a Walking Fantasy