Marinette

Marinette slowly blinked her eyes open, the soft light of late morning streaming through the curtains and casting a warm glow over the room. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. The familiar scent of lavender lingered in the air, the same scent that had always greeted her when she woke up in this room, in this home.

She hadn't realised how much she had missed it—the comforting, steady rhythm of Paris, of being in her own space. When she'd first returned, everything had felt so foreign, so distant. The walls of her room, once her sanctuary, had seemed suffocating, the comfort they once provided lost to the shadows of her doubts. But now, as the sun spilled across the hardwood floors, it was as if the haze clouding her mind had lifted, if only for a moment.

The heavy clouds that had hung over her thoughts for so long seemed to dissipate, allowing the clarity to flood in. For the first time since she'd returned, she felt like she was beginning to find her way back. Like she was learning to breathe again. Her heart no longer felt so burdened by uncertainty. She could hear the distant sounds of Paris waking up around her—the soft hum of the city—and it didn't feel like noise. It felt like home.

Marinette stretched, her limbs reaching for the ceiling as a sigh of relief escaped her lips. It was a small thing, but it felt significant. She hadn't realised how much she had been holding back until now. How much of herself she had buried beneath the layers of confusion and hurt. And at this moment, in the warmth of the sunlight and the quiet of her room, she began to understand that maybe, just maybe, she could find herself again. Maybe she could belong here again.

She rolled over to the side of the bed, her feet touching the cool floor, and stood up, moving over to the ladder and making her way down to the main area of her room. The mirror reflected her tired eyes, but there was something softer in them now—a hint of the girl she used to be before all the chaos, before the distance between her and everyone she loved had grown so wide. She could feel it, deep within her—a shift. Like a door opening in her heart that had long been closed. And she was quite sure she knew who was holding the key.

She felt hope flicker in her chest. It was subtle, but it was there. And in that quiet moment, she promised herself that she wouldn't let it go so easily this time.

The journey was far from over. But today, at least, it felt like a beginning.

Marinette's gaze drifted to Tikki, who was curled up on top of Master Fu's diary. The kwami's small form rose and fell gently with each peaceful breath, her little antenna fluttering ever so slightly in her sleep. The book lay open beneath her, the page creased where she had nestled herself comfortably.

Curious, she leaned forward, her fingers lightly tracing the edges. She hesitated, then the writing caught her attention. It was the day of the Dark Cupid incident, the day she had kissed Chat Noir. The memory of it still lingered in her chest, as bittersweet as it was unexpected. She hadn't meant for it to happen, and yet... it had. And now, here it was, immortalised in the ancient diary of Master Fu.

She read the passage aloud softly, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room:

'Today, something remarkable happened. Ladybug and Chat Noir have finally taken the first step toward realising something even greater. As I watched them together, I couldn't help but feel a stirring of hope in my heart. The kiss they shared, though accidental, was not just a moment of affection. No, I believe it was something deeper—something both of them may not fully understand yet, but something that has sparked the beginning of a journey they have yet to embark on. I have long suspected that fate has woven their paths together for a reason. And now, as their hearts have touched, I can only hope that this spark will ignite something that leads them toward the truth—that they are meant to find one another, not just as superheroes, but as themselves. I have watched their bond grow, from hesitant allies to something much more. And I cannot help but believe that this kiss was a turning point. Perhaps, in the end, it is what will guide them toward their ultimate destiny together.'

Marinette's breath caught as she read the words. She sat back in her chair, her eyes unable to leave the diary, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together over her lips. Master Fu's hopefulness was palpable, each word brimming with optimism. The way he had written about the kiss—like it was a sign, a catalyst that could eventually lead them to each other, not just as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but as Marinette and Adrien.

She closed her eyes, feeling a bittersweet ache in her heart. Master Fu had believed in them. In her and him. He had seen something she hadn't been able to admit to herself, something beyond the masks and the roles they played as heroes. He was championing them, even when she didn't feel ready to be championed. His words felt like a gentle weight on her shoulders, urging her to believe in what they could be.

Her thoughts tangled with the memory of that kiss—soft, unexpected, and so full of... possibility. She had kissed Chat Noir, yes. But more than that, Master Fu's words made her realise that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't just a fleeting moment. Maybe it was a sign that they were meant to find each other, not just in the chaos of being Ladybug and Chat Noir, but in the quiet moments, in the spaces where their true selves could be seen.

She couldn't stop her thumb from stroking over her lower lip. The action soft and gentle. The memory of Chat Noir's–Adrien's–lips on hers pleasant and addictive.

It had been a kiss, a slip-up in the midst of the madness. But it had felt different. It had felt like something more. Just as every kiss with Adrien that followed in their brief relationship.

And now, reading Master Fu's words, Marinette couldn't help but wonder: what if he was right? What if that kiss had started something they both had yet to understand?

She glanced at Tikki, still asleep, and smiled softly. She didn't have the answers, but for the first time in a long time, the uncertainty didn't seem so heavy. Maybe Master Fu was onto something. Maybe they were meant to find each other, just as he had said. Yet, destiny was cruel. Six years later and they had only just got there.

Marinette's fingers gently brushed the edges of a framed picture sitting on her desk. It was a photo of Adrien, taken a few months after they'd started dating during one of their quieter afternoons in the park. He was smiling—genuinely, his eyes sparkling with warmth, the kind of smile that made her heart skip just a little.

Her thumb traced over his face, and a wave of memories hit her. She thought back to the previous night, when they had left Master Fu's parlour. They had been talking about everything and nothing as they stepped out of the parlour, the air crisp and cool as evening set in.

She let out a soft chuckle now, remembering how he'd tried to impress her, ending up slipping on a patch of ice and landed sprawled out on the floor.

Her laughter, soft and infectious, escaped her lips once more.

The sound startled Tikki, who had been peacefully napping on the bed beside her. The tiny kwami stirred, her little wings fluttering before she blinked awake, her sleepy eyes narrowing at Marinette.

'Marinette,' Tikki groaned, her voice full of sleepy annoyance, 'you're laughing so loud I thought the whole room was shaking...'

Marinette bit her lip, trying to stifle the grin that was spreading across her face. 'Sorry, Tikki,' she whispered, a playful glint in her eyes. 'It's just... I can't believe how shocked Adrien was. It was too funny.'

Tikki yawned, still curled up in a sleepy ball. 'Well, maybe next time you should warn him before he makes an idiot out of himself?'

She chuckled again, her thoughts drifting back to Adrien, to his shocked, flustered reaction. Her heart squeezed with longing. Moments like that, moments of raw honesty and laughter, made it all feel a little more... possible.

'Yeah,' she whispered to herself, 'maybe next time.'

She set the picture of Adrien back on her nightstand, her thoughts swirling as she sat back in her chair. Her gaze drifted to the window, the soft light of the morning filtering through the curtains, but her mind was elsewhere. The words from Saturday night replayed in her head—how she'd opened up to Adrien about breaking things off with Johnny, how shocked he'd been, and how tenderly he questioned her motives moving forward.

She frowned, feeling a strange mix of hope and uncertainty. It felt like a dream, something she wasn't sure she could reach out and touch, but the idea of it was there, lingering like a distant star. Could she date so quickly after breaking up with Johnny? After everything that had happened, was she even ready to consider something with him? She was almost certain, if they hadn't had been stopped that night, things would have progressed quite quickly.

'Is it too soon, Tikki?' she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper as she glanced at her kwami, who was still curled up on the bed.

Tikki fluttered her wings sleepily, blinking up at her. 'Too soon for what?'

Marinette hesitated, biting her lip before continuing. 'For... I don't know. For us. For anything between me and Adrien. I mean, he's been so kind, and last couple of nights... it felt like maybe something was happening. He's been so supportive, and... well, I guess I'm just wondering if I'm being silly thinking that maybe he would want more?'

Tikki sat up, her eyes softening as she considered Marinette's words. Tikki had always been front row when it came to her feelings for Adrien—how tangled everything had been, especially with their superhero identities, with the way their lives seemed to be one constant swirl of complication.

'If it was anyone else,' Tikki started, her voice gentle but firm, 'I'd tell you to take a step back, to think it over carefully, and really ask yourself if it could work. I'd tell you to be cautious, to make sure you're ready. But with Adrien... it's different.'

Marinette's heart skipped, and she leaned forward, her eyes wide. 'Different how?'

Tikki smiled softly, a knowing look in her eyes. 'Because with Adrien, it's not about the timing, or the confusion, or the superhero stuff getting in the way. It's about something real. You two have been through so much together already, even if you haven't fully seen it yet. You know him better than anyone else, and he knows you, in ways no one else could. What you have—it's not just a chance thing. It's not some random fling. What you have is the foundation of something that's already been built. You've been growing closer without even realising it, and you're not just partners in fighting evil. You're partners in life. And sometimes, life works out in ways you don't plan. So if you're wondering whether you're ready... I'd say, with him, you're more ready than you think.'

Marinette blinked, her chest tightening at Tikki's words. It was as if a weight had been lifted, but at the same time, the thought of moving forward with Adrien seemed even more monumental now, as if everything she'd felt, everything she'd been unsure about, suddenly made more sense. Her feelings for him weren't just a passing thing. There was something deeper there—a bond that had been forming for much longer than she'd allowed herself to admit.

She looked down at Tikki, her heart racing. 'You really think so?'

Tikki nodded. 'I know so.'

She smiled, the flutter in her chest feeling a little lighter now, like the first stirrings of something new. Something she hadn't even realised she was ready for until now.

'Okay,' Marinette whispered, feeling the warmth of hope filling her heart. 'Maybe it's time I started believing in it too.' She moved to her wardrobe and pushed the clothes around, nothing standing out. 'First though, I'm going to need a new dress.'

'It's been a while since you've made anything. Maybe you can go to the fabric store.'

She walked to her old sewing machine, her fingers lingering on the cool metal, her touch feather-light, as though the weight of her doubts might shatter it. She had spent hours—no, years—sitting at this very table, pouring her heart and soul into designs that once made her feel unstoppable. As a teenager, this sewing machine had been her partner in crime, her confidant. Together, they'd brought to life everything from unique clothing, to the many gifts left for Adrien in her storage trunk.

She closed her eyes and tried to summon that girl again, the one who had stitched her dreams into every seam and every hemline. She could almost see herself hunched over the machine in the middle of the night, her fingers sore but her heart soaring as fabric and thread transformed into creations she was proud of. The glow of her desk lamp, the soft hum of the machine, the satisfaction of pulling a finished piece from the table—it had all felt like magic.

But now...

'Marinette, I'm just checking that you know designer companies have certain standards to obtain.' Johnny's voice sliced through her thoughts, sharp and unyielding. She could almost see him standing over her shoulder, arms crossed and judgement thick in his eyes. He'd said it so often that it had settled in her mind like a disease, infecting every dream she dared to hold onto.

How could he still have this hold over her? How could she doubt herself so much?

Her stomach twisted, her throat tightening as she remembered the times she'd let him stop her from even trying. The designs she'd trashed before finishing. The sketches she'd hidden in a drawer. The small victories she'd stopped celebrating because nothing ever seemed good enough any more.

Maybe he's right, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind. Maybe I'm not good enough.

Her hand tightened on the edge of the machine as she fought against the weight of those thoughts. Somewhere deep down, buried beneath the wreckage Johnny had left behind, she knew that voice didn't belong to her. It was his. It was his poison, and yet, she'd swallowed it whole.

She exhaled shakily, staring at the machine as though it might speak to her, reminding her of who she'd been before everything fell apart. Could she still make something beautiful? Could she still pour her heart into a dress that would shine brighter than her doubts? She knew Adrien would believe in her, that even at her lowest points he stood strong by her side. He'd been there time and time again, telling her she could do it, that he was with her the whole way through. Even last night he'd held her as she cried and doubted herself.

She could do this. She would do this for him—for them. A renewed sense of strength burst through that foreign voice, her spirits lifting and hope soaring. She would do this.

The sharp trill of her phone broke through her thoughts, startling her. She jumped, her heart stuttering as she snatched it up. Adrien. It had to be Adrien. For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked in her chest, only to fizzle out when Luka's name appeared on the screen.

Her thumb swiped across the green button to connect the call.

'Hey, Luka,' she said, her voice soft but steady.

'Marinette,' Luka's familiar, soothing tone filled her ear. 'I was wondering if you're busy right now.'

She glanced back at the sewing machine, the memories of all those hours spent creating still swirling in her mind like ghosts. 'Not exactly,' she admitted. 'I... I could use the distraction, to be honest.'

'Meet me in an hour?' he offered, his voice warm and patient, like it always was.

'Yeah,' she said after a pause. 'Can you meet me at the fabric store I used to go to?' Her eyes trained on the machine in front. It was now or never.

Silence. 'Marinette. That one closed down last year.'

Her heart sank. Just another failure on her part. But he spoke again. 'But I know another. Come to me and I'll take you there.'

'On your bike?' she suggested, amused.

Luka laughed. 'I'm more into walking these days.'

'Sounds good. See you in an hour.'

'Bye, Marinette.'

As she hung up the phone, she let out a shaky breath and looked back at the machine. The weight of her self-doubt was still there, heavy and relentless, but Luka's call had given her something else—an escape, even if temporary.

She could do this. She could create something extraordinary, and she could show the world she was as good as she believed—no scrub that, she was great.

One hour later, she was running down her parents' winding staircase, a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth and one arm in her coat. She burst into the bakery attempting to grab her phone, now her coat was on. She'd have to call Luka and tell him she was running late–just like old times.

'Marinette?'

Eyes glued to her phone, Marinette barely registered the voice. She didn't glance up, didn't pause. Instead, she moved toward her mother, brushing a gentle kiss against her cheek.

'I'm going out with Luka. I'll text you if I'll be back for dinner,' she said, her voice distant, almost rushed.

She pivoted, planting the same light kiss on her father's cheek, her thoughts already tumbling ahead, trying to steady the lingering unease Johnny's voice had left in her mind earlier in the day. It felt like she was hearing him again. She needed to push that to the back of her mind.

'Marinette.'

This time, the voice was sharper, closer. A chill slid down her spine as her feet faltered. Maybe she wasn't hearing things.

She froze mid-step, her heart sinking as though it already knew who it was before she turned. Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder, her pulse hammering in her ears.

There he was. Johnny. Standing in the bakery as though he belonged there, his polished shoes out of place against the warm, flour-dusted floors.

She felt the walls closing in around her. She glanced back at her parents, who were distracted by a conversation about a new pastry recipe. For a fleeting second, she thought about staying close to them, using their presence as a shield. But no. She couldn't do that to them—not when they didn't even know about the cracks Johnny had left in her world.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked past him, her voice low and firm. 'Outside. Now.'

Johnny's smirk was infuriatingly calm, his confidence unshaken as he followed her out the door. The cold air bit at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice she forced into her words.

'We're broken up, Johnny. I told you that already.'

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest, his smile condescending. 'No, we're not. You're just... misunderstanding things. You overreacted, Marinette. That's all this is. I love you, and you love me. Now let's go home, and forget about all this.'

Her stomach churned, his tone twisting her resolve like a blade. It was always like this—Johnny twisting her words, her feelings, until she didn't know which way was up. But this time was different. It had to be different.

Her eyes drifted upward, catching sight of the television in the corner of the apartment opposite. The news was playing footage of Ladybug and Chat Noir, their meeting from a week ago, their silhouettes framed by the golden light of Paris. Her gaze settled on Chat Noir, her heart tightening as her thoughts strayed to Adrien.

Adrien, who had stood by her. Adrien, who had believed in her. Adrien, who gave her strength without even knowing it.

Her focus snapped back to Johnny, her voice gaining steel. 'No, Johnny. We're done. I'm staying here. I'm staying in Paris.'

His smirk dropped, his expression hardening into something more sinister. 'It's not that simple, Mare.' He took a step closer, his voice low and venomous. 'You think you can just walk away from everything? From me? Unless you want a legal case against you, you'd better remember who owns your contract. And you know what that means.'

Her throat tightened as his words sank in. She tried to fight the tremor in her hands, clenching them at her sides–but he was right. Leaving wasn't as simple as she had originally thought it would be.

He straightened, his smirk returning with a cruel edge. 'I'll see you around, Marinette. You're not leaving me that easily.'

He turned and walked away, leaving her frozen in place, her chest tight with fear and anger. For a moment, she felt like she couldn't breathe. The street seemed to spin, her mind racing with the weight of his threat.

She forced herself to move, stepping forward on unsteady legs. She couldn't stay there, couldn't let Johnny's words seep any deeper into her. She had somewhere to be—someone to see. She hated his effect on her, the lingering doubt he always left. What had she done to ever deserve this?

By the time she reached Luka, her hands were trembling. She clasped them together tightly, trying to still them, but it was no use. Luka noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern as he met her on the deck of The Liberty.

'Marinette,' he said softly, opening his arms and allowing her to fall in. 'What's wrong?'

She shook her head, words unable to form and escape. He didn't press her. He simply nodded, his calm presence already soothing the storm swirling inside her. For the first time in what felt like hours, Marinette allowed herself to breathe.

A couple of hours later, they were all shopped out and ready to call it a day. This close to Christmas in Paris was like a sale at Zak's Fifth Avenue.

The café was packed with Christmas crowds. The warm hum of conversation and the cheerful notes of holiday music filled the air as they were lucky enough to find a small table by the frosted window. People bustled around them, carrying trays of steaming coffee and plates of seasonal pastries. The scent of cinnamon and fresh pine mingled with the rich aroma of roasting coffee beans, wrapping around Marinette like a comforting blanket. Yet, the anxiety gnawing at her stomach refused to ease.

Luka set the bag of fabric on the chair beside him, his ever-present calm grounding her. 'That material you picked out—it's perfect. The dress is going to look beautiful, Marinette. I can already picture it.'

She traced a finger around the rim of her mug, the warmth of the hot chocolate seeping into her cold hands. Her shoulders sagged slightly. 'I don't know, Luka. What if... what if I can't do this? What if I mess it up? I haven't made something like this in so long. And after everything Johnny said—'

Her voice broke, and she caught herself, glancing nervously at the nearby tables. But Luka leaned in, his blue eyes steady and unwavering, encouraging her to continue.

She sighed and finally let the dam burst. 'He always told me I was chasing dreams I'd never catch. That I'd never measure up to real designers, no matter how hard I worked. And I believed him, Luka. For so long, I believed every word he said. I feel like I'm only just starting to see past the fog he left behind, but... what if he's right? What if I'm just wasting my time? I haven't done anything in years with his corrections.'

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of rare frustration in his eyes. 'Marinette, you're not wasting your time. Don't let someone like Johnny—someone who couldn't even see your worth—define what you can or can't do. You're one of the strongest, most talented people I've ever known. You've got to trust yourself.'

Her lips quirked in a bittersweet smile. 'It's not just the dress. It's... everything.'

He leaned back slightly, waiting for her to elaborate. She glanced down at her hands, fidgeting with the edge of her scarf. 'Adrien asked me to the gala,' she admitted quietly.

Luka blinked, his expression unreadable. 'Oh?'

'And now that Johnny's out of the picture...' her voice dropped. 'Would it be too soon? I mean, it's not even been a week, Luka. And Adrien—he deserves more than... more than someone who's still putting herself back together. Tikki thinks it's fine, but she's always been on Adrien's side. I know why now more than ever.'

Luka tilted his head, studying her, his fingers tracing over the stuble around his mouth. 'Do you love him?'

The question hit her like a freight train. Her heart skipped a beat, but the answer was already there, resting quietly in the corner of her soul, waiting to be acknowledged. She nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. 'Yes. I love him, more than I've ever loved anything.'

His lips curved into a soft, knowing smile. 'Then you need to tell him, Marinette. Adrien's waited this long for you, and I'm pretty sure he'd wait forever if it meant being with you. But why make him wait if you already know?'

She stared at him, his words reverberating in her chest. 'You really think so?'

'I know so,' he said firmly, leaning forward. 'If you love him, Marinette, then don't let anything hold you back. Not Johnny, not your doubts, not the past. You deserve to be happy, and so does he. He would never hurt you, and deep down you know that. You understand who he is.'

Before Marinette could respond, Luka's attention wavered. His gaze shifted over her shoulder, his expression softening as his eyes landed on someone across the café. She turned slightly, following his line of sight.

A short, striking girl with long blonde hair had just walked in, a cute pink and white bobble hat bouncing on her head. Her confident stride drew the attention of more than a few customers. She was followed closely by a guy who looked around her age, his arm slung casually over her shoulders. Marinette noticed the way Luka's eyes lingered on the girl, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

'Is that... Sophia?' Marinette asked cautiously, her voice pulling Luka back to the moment.

Luka stiffened slightly, but then he sighed, running a hand through his black hair. 'Yeah, that's her.'

'Who's the guy with her?'

Luka grabbed his drink, focusing on the hot liquid in his mug. 'That's her brother. He's a cool guy, just very protective of her.'

Something about his tone made Marinette narrow her eyes. 'Do you like her? Are you two seeing each other?'

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his coffee. 'It's...complicated,' Luka said, his voice tinged with frustration. 'She's... amazing. When I'm around her, it's like I can hear the song of her soul, and it's beautiful. I catch her singing in the kitchen with Emily, and she's like a Syren, pulling me in without resistance. She has the most incredible voice, and she's so strong and caring, but she keeps holding back, like she's afraid to let anyone in.'

She studied him, her brow furrowing. 'Sounds familiar,' she said with a false laugh. 'There's something else isn't there?'

He glanced up at her, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he finally spoke. 'Marinette, you and I—we've always understood each other. I know what it's like to doubt yourself, to hold back because you're scared of what might happen if you don't. But I also know that when you let someone in, when you let yourself trust... that's when the most beautiful things can happen.'

His words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Marinette swallowed hard, her mind a swirl of thoughts. Luka was right—about Adrien, about Johnny, about everything. But as she looked back at Sophia, still laughing with her brother, she couldn't shake the feeling that Luka was hiding more than just his feelings about her. And the deflection of the question meant he wasn't ready to talk about it just yet.