Chapter Text
Ladybug should’ve known Chat Noir was going for an ambush the moment he dropped off her trail. But she was still distracted. Ladybug made TV appearances often, but this was a first for Marinette. It left her paranoid that everyone would see through the Miraculous masking and connect the two identities. Half her brain was focused on the akuma fight and the other half was trying to repel an anxiety attack.
Now Chat Noir had her pinned against a chimney and all her thoughts were lost. She started to speak, trying to beg, but he pressed his baton hard against her throat. It came out as a pathetic whimper. His green eyes were dark, shining with rage. With each exhale he forced his baton deeper, siphoning away her airflow.
He reached a hand up to her ear, turning the backing of her earring. Her vision was spotting. This was it. After all these years, he won.
Except instead of pulling her earring off, his hand dropped. He eased his baton. Fresh oxygen rushed relief to her brain. She devoured it in loud gasps. As her consciousness returned her mind was flooded with confusion. Chat Noir’s eyes were searching in hers, the cruel gleam missing now. What was stopping him?
The roof curled up with a groan, sending them stumbling apart. Ladybug slid off the building.
She rolled and regained her bearing on the pavement below. The akuma had torn apart the roof and was readying its next attack. There was no time to process whatever just happened with Chat Noir; the akuma had grown twice as big and three times as angry. She spotted her yoyo down the street and sprinted to it.
Wherever Chat Noir had gone, he didn’t return from.
-
The media obsession with Marinette was supposed to be over.
Marinette was familiar with the gossip cycle because she served a brief stint as an Adrien fangirl. It was a regrettable period of her life, but in her defense, she was dealing with the betrayal of her superhero partner and needed something else to fixate on. Her infatuation included tracking all of his alleged girlfriends. The paparazzi would catch him out with a girl from one of his private extracurriculars, or inside sources would claim he was getting cozy with another Agreste model on set, and Marinette would oscillate between being jealous of the girl for being with Adrien and being in awe of how gorgeous she always was. (Eventually she understood this was bisexuality.)
But without fail, the talk of each alleged girlfriend died down after a few days. Adrien was elusive, and without any new pictures or statements, it would be forgotten. By now Marinette should have been forgotten.
The opposite happened. There were social media posts amongst Adrien fans, as usual, but then there were posts from accounts that weren’t fans, followed by posts in English. When a major American gossip magazine posted the cigarette picture, Marinette knew she was fucked. Somehow, for some reason she couldn’t comprehend, the photo had gone viral.
She was paranoid about how “dating” Adrien could put Ladybug at risk from the start, but the fear had manifested into reality. Her address leaked. Paparazzi and tabloid reporters swarmed the base of her apartment, cameras and notepads ready. If there was an akuma attack, Ladybug would be spotted leaving her apartment, putting her secret identity in peril. All she could do was hide away in terror while Alya tried to use her media savvy to combat the attention. For once Tikki didn’t think Marinette was overreacting. They were completely at Hawkmoth’s mercy, but he hadn’t created another akuma since the last one.
Since Chat Noir almost took her Miraculous. At least the Adrien crisis gave her new problems so she could avoid getting engrossed by that incident.
One of those new problems being her parents. Her cellphone was fried from her number leaking, but her parents were determined to get in touch. They ended up calling her through Alya’s phone. After Marinette had reassured them that she was surviving the media storm, they started to ask about Adrien. Her heart sank to her stomach. They believed the picture. Her gut reaction was to make up an excuse, hurrying to hang up. Alya, a serial eavesdropper, shook her head when Marinette returned her phone.
Marinette knew it was wrong to keep the truth from her parents, but this was only lying through omission. She was already going to cause concern when she told them she had to move back in with them. Her perpetual single state would only distress them more. She knew their overbearing nature stemmed from love, but there were only so many stressors she could handle at once. When she had slipped out of the public eye she would tell them the truth: Adrien was a total stranger she happened to have one conversation with, and she would never see him again.
Or that was what she thought.
Over a week after the cigarette picture was taken, Marinette was hunched over her computer, reworking a design that a client was expecting tomorrow, when she heard Alya speaking to someone at their front door.
“Yes, Marinette is here! I’m sure she would love to speak to you. I’ll get her right now!”
Marinette wrapped a blanket around herself, baffled. Alya hated the tabloids even more than her, disgraced by their affronts to journalism, and they had made an agreement to not speak to anyone, not to mention inviting them into their apartment.
Alya rushed into her room, her voice an aggressive whisper. “Adrien fucking Agreste is here.”
Marinette was too horrified to respond. She couldn’t fathom any reasons he would seek her out. At least not any positive ones. Her heart rate stuttered, her mind catastrophizing. He must have seen all of the media coverage about them, too. Now he was going to punish her for it.
Alya tore through her drawers, scavenged nicer clothes, and threw them at Marinette. She changed in a flurry while Alya ripped a hairbrush through her hair.
When Marinette stumbled out of her bedroom, she half expected it to all be a prank. But sure enough, Adrien fucking Agreste was standing in their apartment. His outfit, although simple, had to be more expensive than a month of rent. It was almost comical how out of place he looked in their run-down, messy apartment. A broad man was standing at the doorway, hands clasped in front of him. Marinette had her own security guard in Alya, who was lingering in the hallway behind her.
“Sorry for the mess,” Marinette said lamely. She couldn’t think of anything to say besides parroting what her parents told guests.
“No worries. I just wanted to talk to you one-on-one,” Adrien said. Marinette pinched her hand as he spoke. Not a dream. He was actually in her apartment asking to speak with her alone. His guard stepped out of the apartment on cue, but Alya waited until Marinette nodded at her to disappear into her bedroom.
“Please, feel free to sit.” Marinette gestured to their couch, playing hostess as best as she could. Maybe if she was welcoming and took initiative he would go easy on her. “I’m really sorry about everything that has happened because of that picture.”
Adrien took her invitation and made a valiant attempt at masking his surprise when he sunk several inches into the beat-down cushions. “No, no, I’m here to apologize to you. You didn’t ask for all this to happen when you went out that night.”
“No,” Marinette agreed, still hesitant. There was no way he went out of his way to apologize to every girl he was accused of dating. “I guess you’ve seen my address leaked.”
He smiled, echoing the face she’d seen on billboards but more sheepish. “Yeah, I did. I really can’t say sorry enough. It’s gotten out of hand, even more than usual.”
He looked up at the ceiling and swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. Marinette braced herself. Finally he said, “I was wondering if you would like to be my girlfriend for public appearances.”
Marinette malfunctioned.
“People are interested in us as a couple,” Adrien said. She couldn"t decipher the tone of his voice. “If we made appearances together, you could benefit from the positive parts of exposure instead just of dealing with this mess. I could take you to photoshoots, fashion shows, red carpets, and all that.”
Her brain stalled more before understanding. He was offering her a PR relationship. A classic move for celebrities trying to gain media traction, but offering it to a random girl you met at a bar had to be unheard of. The Adrien fangirl buried in her would faint at this opportunity. But that fangirl had been squashed for bigger responsibilities. Ladybug came first. “I’m not interested.”
Adrien’s face fell into turmoil; he must not have expected rejection. Marinette always imagined Adrien would be humble, so his apparent ego unsettled her. Maybe this was why they said you should never meet your idols. She let herself revel in the satisfaction of surprising him.
“You’d have the opportunity to make a name for yourself outside of our relationship, if you wanted.” Adrien’s eyebrows quirked up and down as he spoke, phasing through different emotions. “And you could also become a representative of the Agreste brand.”
“I’m not interested in any of that,” Marinette said, but this was more painful to turn down. Gabriel Agreste was one of her favorite designers. Affording just one of his pieces was a pipe dream. “Being famous isn’t for me.”
He frowned deeper. “If you’re worried about things like your address being in danger, I can provide security personnel. I was going to set it up with you today no matter what.”
“Why me?” she challenged, irked by his insistence. “Half of Paris would agree in a heartbeat. Somebody more famous than me would be better for your image.”
“But I’ve been seen with more famous people and everyone cared less,” Adrien said. His voice was wrought with desperation. “There’s something special about you that people are drawn to.”
His logic held up, and the pain in his voice was genuine. But her answer was unchanged.
Adrien let out a long sigh. “To be honest, being famous isn’t for me either. I hate it. I understand why you aren’t interested. It isn’t even the real reason I’m asking. The truth is I fucked up and I told my dad we’re together because I have a stupid impulsive mouth and instead of coming clean I lied more and now I’m in deep shit because he wants to meet you to see if he approves and I-” He ran out of breath and bowed his head to the floor. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
So he wasn’t a narcissist. He was worried about upsetting his father. Marinette didn’t really follow how he had gotten into this situation, but she would probably sound just as insane trying to explain her side of this story.
“Your dad likes getting involved in your love life?”
“He likes getting involved in everything in my life,” Adrien said, sounding miserable.
It was like she had summoned her lucky charm; a plan was forming. “And you said he wants to meet me?”
“Have you over for dinner.”
Marinette didn’t want anything to do with fame. The sooner this media frenzy was over, the better. But she could think of who could benefit from it in the meantime.
“I’ll meet your dad if you meet my parents,” she said. “They run their own bakery, and if you’re seen in it, that would be huge for their business. Plus they believed we were together, so this’ll get them off my back for a while.”
His eyes darted up to hers, a smile growing on his face. “So we each get dinner with each other’s parents.”
“But that’s it,” Marinette said. “After we’ve convinced them, we’re done.”
Adrien’s face split into a wide, sloppy grin, the kind that couldn’t be rehearsed for the camera. He reached his hand out to her. Marinette took it and shook, not knowing that this deal would become her downfall.