Marinette’s heart can be summed up by the night atop Saint Ambroise Church, the cascade of rain slipping down the spire, and the hands pressed on her warm skin as her partner’s lips crashed against hers.
“No one’s ever kissed me like that before,” she gasps into the space between them, breath hot and heavy. Lightning cracks high above, illuminating the shine of his dark eyes and the glow of her hands tangled in his hair.
Chat Noir’s expression twists into a bright grin as he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Now that’s a real tragedy,” he tells her. “Who wouldn’t want to kiss you?”
“You know who,” she says back, and she’s not sure if it’s anger or desire beginning to blur the edges of her vision. “Don’t forget it. That’s the whole reason we’re—”
With a sigh, he fixes her with a quiet gaze. “Of course, I remember.” He comes closer and brushes his nose across her cheek. “You like Adrien Agreste, and I like Ladybug.”
“And—” Marinette starts to add, but he shakes his head.
“—and right now, they don’t matter,” he interjects. “Because right now, you’re with me and I’m with you, and whether it’s to practice kissing like you say or because you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re madly in love with me, nothing else matters.”
“Of course it does.”
Chat Noir comes into her space, presses his lips to her jawline, and whispers softly, “Not to me, not right now.”
“And why’s that, kitty cat?” she taunts with a soft smile, wrapping her arms around his neck until she’s pressed up against him.
“Because right now, you’re kissing me and not him.”
“It won’t always be like that. This is just for practice.”
“So you say, Marinette.” He kisses her again, full of rain and wind, and it crashes over her like a wave on the Seine.
She sinks below the water without a second thought.
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