Joint-patrol

silly ladynoir things
  • chat starts Shit Talking Sundays bc there are some days when chat just needs to talk about how dumb his dad is being and ladybug needs to scream about this bratty bully in her history class
  • on days when they’re bored, they’ll board the metro in costume and ride it for a few stops purely for the shock value
  • chat finds out ladybug can’t whistle and spends every available opportunity trying to teach her
    • cn: *squishes her cheeks between his hands* you’re not pursing your lips enough and your tongue isn’t positioned correctly, try again
    • lb: my tongue is sitting in my mouth what do you mean it’s not positioned correctly i don’t ???????
  • joint naps during patrols are very much a thing bc these kids never sleep between school and akuma attacks. sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll find ladybug snoring on a rooftop with chat noir laid on top of her, drooling on her shoulder
  • when patrols get boring, ladybug will hop on chat noir’s back, make him shut his eyes, and act as his eyes while they try to patrol the city before switching places. they don’t talk about that time chat was laughing too hard to warn ladybug about the ledge and they almost fell off a roof. 
  • hide and seek games that last literally hours
    • they both cheat and bring their phones to stalk social media tags and see if anyone’s posted tips and/or sightings of them so that they can find the other
  • chat’s really good at massages so sometimes he’ll work out the kinks in ladybug’s shoulders when they have downtime bc “wow you carry so much tension in your neck please tell me you’re not hunched over your desk all day”
  • the eiffel tower is their honorary “it’s 3am and we can’t sleep” meeting place. 
  • they’ll often drop into parks and playgrounds and join with some of the neighborhood kids on games of tag, frisbee, and football
  • they have a going scoreboard for their impromptu arm wrestling competitions. last they checked the score was 32-35 with ladybug in the lead. 
  • they each have their own personal lists of dumb/funny things that the other has said
    • chat’s list of things ladybug has said: “sleep isn’t a thing you know. they lied to you. it’s not real,” “you ever wonder if i can spin a web with my yoyo?” “can lucky charm conjure me an A for this physics test tomorrow?” “i almost had my cat-eye eye liner perfect today before that akuma appeared and messed me up like that proximity to perfection might never happen again.”
    • ladybug’s list of things chat has said: “is there a place where we can borrow a microwave? i wanna see what happens if i use cataclysm on it,” “memes are like the dysfunctional family you didn’t ask for but didn’t know you needed,” “im like terrified an akuma attack is gonna happen when i’m in the shower while im naked and vulnerable,” “if i extend my staff long enough, do you think it’ll reach space?”
i think it’s time i told you (i’m a fan of your universe) (1/1)

Years after Hawkmoth’s defeat, Ladybug and Chat Noir have a conversation about life, love, and marriage.

Ladybug checked her communicator for the third time that night, and frowned.

The green pawprint blinked idly back at her, resting at a junction between city streets—the same place it had been every other time she’d checked.

They hadn’t arranged to meet up that night. It was her turn for a solo patrol tonight, and there hadn’t been any trouble big enough to make calling for help a necessity. She’d stopped a couple muggings, interrupted a robbery—normal, small things. Nothing that needed an extra pair of hands.

And, sure, they both transformed just for the fun of it sometimes. Sometimes they caught one another out on morning strolls or midnight snack runs or impromptu patrols, but usually those involved moving around.

Chat’s tracker hadn’t moved in the past two hours.

She shouldn’t worry—Hawkmoth had been in jail for the past three years and Chat wasn’t in a bad part of town right now—but…

But…

The green pawprint blinked at her from the same junction, at the same pace, unmoved.

Ladybug abandoned the end of her route and headed downtown.

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All I Ask Of You

A @mlsecretsanta​ gift for @miraculouspaon​! Some fluffly Marichat for you!

Have a Happy Holliday!

NOTE: This fic includes songs and lyrics from various musicals, so scattered throughout are links to youtube videos for those songs. Enjoy!


Chat Noir loves musicals.

It really shouldn’t surprise me. Cats exists, of course he loves musicals. After he found out I’m into musicals, it’s all he talks about when we’re on patrol. But I can’t even remember how we got on the subject. I think I was humming a few bars of ‘76 Trombones’ from The Music Man one day and he recognized it instantly. He started talking about various musicals he’d seen, either live or recorded, musicals he wanted to see (Hamilton and The Lion King topped the list), and his favorite songs from each. Which leads me to my second discovery.

Chat Noir has a beautiful voice.

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Encore (3/5)

Joint patrol,” Ichigo grumbles, shifting an inch-high stack of paperwork away from him, and dragging the next heap closer. “Joint. Logically you’d assume that the paperwork was split, right? Half the usual amount? So why the hell do we have twice as much?”

Across from him, on the other side of the mess hall table they’ve commandeered and drowned in forms that need to be filled out in triplicate, Shuuhei snorts. “Because bureaucracy thrives on killing our souls,” he mutters, tipping his own forms into their completed pile. It’s already impressively high. “Doesn’t help that we encountered Hollows. Or that five squad members got injured.”

Because they’re morons, Ichigo wants to growl, but he’s Shiba Kei and that’s not something he’s going to say about those under his command. He settles for a subtle roll of his eyes and picks up his pen once more. “At least neither of us had to go to shikai,” he says, partly to console himself, and contains a wince at the thought of those forms, which would add another three inches to their respective piles.

Shuuhei winces, too. “Argh. Don’t even speak of that.” Then he looks up, eyes narrowing, and tacks on, “You say that like low-level Hollows could make you use your shikai when even a fight against a captain can’t.”

Ichigo battles the urge to laugh. “Are you offended on your captain’s behalf, because I didn’t draw my sword in our match, Hisagi?”

That gets him an eye-roll. “Please, Shiba. I’ve known him since he was a brat in the Academy. His swelled head needs regular puncturing. You doing it simply means that I don’t have to. I’m just…curious. Has anyone seen your shikai?”

“I don’t even draw my sword often,” Ichigo admits with a shrug, sidestepping the question neatly. For all that he’s living a constructed life, he’s still not all that great at lying. “I can use kido and that’s usually enough, so why bother waking the old man up if I don’t have to?” Zangetsu more than did his duty in the war, after all.

Shuuhei looks faintly sympathetic and nods, going back to his work. It’s one of the things Ichigo appreciates most about Shuuhei, that he knows instinctively when to let a matter drop.

He appreciates a lot of things about Shuuhei, actually. Chief among them is the fact that Kurosaki Ichigo never really knew him, so Shiba Kei has a blank slate as far as friendship goes. It’s been that way with several of the lieutenants, because for all that Ichigo fought with them he was never one of them, at least until now. Kira and Tetsuzaemon, Nanao and Matsumoto—they’re all people he’s not entirely familiar with, and meeting them like this is good, easier than it would be if Renji and Rukia or even Ikkaku were lieutenants.

A sharp clatter of pots dropping makes both Ichigo and Shuuhei look up, startled, and Ichigo manages to catch the tail-end of a glare from one of the cooks. Only then does he realize that it’s close to ten at night, and he shares a faintly sheepish look with Shuuhei as they hurry to gather up their work.

“Might want to eat elsewhere for a while,” Shuuhei murmurs as they all but lunge out the door. “The cooks all seem to carry grudges, and if we’ve held them up…”

Ichigo thinks of what they could do to his food, from simply burning it to all number of creative poisons lifted from the Twelfth, and grimaces. “Good idea.”

They slow to a walk once they’re a safe distance away from the mess, nodding their greetings to a few shinigami hurrying by. Otherwise, they’re the only ones out, because it’s the middle of the week and Yamamoto has been assigning extra patrols lately. There’s something killing people in the Rukongai, massacring groups of travelers and attacking shinigami squads, and it’s pissing off just about every shinigami in the Seireitei. Each division has at least six ten-man squads on active duty right now, and another four on call and in reserve.

Apparently thinking along the same lines, Shuuhei sighs and shifts his stack of papers to his right arm. “More patrols tomorrow,” he says a touch wearily.

Ichigo makes a noise of agreement, fighting another wince. Captains are generally too important to lead patrols, so the task falls to the lieutenants. With their current schedule, it’s only a matter of time before they start dropping like flies from exhaustion, and they’ve yet to even so much as catch sight of the bastards doing this. “At least they keep putting the Sixth and Ninth together,” he offers. If he had to suffer through an entire patrol with Nemu or Yachiru he’d probably end up blowing some inner gasket.

Shuuhei’s again on the same wavelength—and really, Ichigo isn’t used to such a thing, not even with Rukia or Renji or Chad. With them, the understanding always came in the form of a fight, against or beside them. With Shuuhei, it’s more of a shared ease, and only-sane-man mentality when dealing with the other lieutenants. It makes Shuuhei’s soft huff entirely translatable, lets Ichigo read the amusement and weariness and disbelief that they’re surrounded by people like Matsumoto and Yachiru and Omeada as lieutenants.

“At least,” Shuuhei agrees. At the intersection of two streets, he pauses and looks longingly at the brightly lit and clearly raucous bar just a little ways down. “Damn, after this last week, I really want to get drunk.”

Ichigo snorts. “Well, if thought of your captain’s reaction is holding you back,” he says dryly, “I wouldn’t worry. That’s his hair in there, right?”

Shuuhei chuckles, but after one more lingering glance keeps walking. “Yes, well, he doesn’t have a 54th District patrol an hour after dawn tomorrow.”

With a groan at the reminder, Ichigo rubs a hand over his face. They’re close to the Sixth, and when he looks up, there’s a light on in the captain’s office. “I’ll be there,” Ichigo tells his friend. “Entirely conscious or not. Night, Hisagi.”

“Good night, Shiba,” Shuuhei answers, lifting one hand in a halfhearted wave before continuing into the dark. Ichigo stares after him for a long moment, a part of him wondering how all of this happened, how everything changed so much. He’s a lieutenant now, a hardworking and dedicated one. He has dinner with Kukaku and Ganju every weekend that he’s free. He’s a full-fledged superior officer, leading shinigami on patrols and into battle.

It’s a long way from being the hotheaded substitute shinigami dragged into a war he wasn’t ready for, or the powerless drifter he became afterwards.

Byakuya is at his desk when Ichigo enters the office, sorting papers into what Ichigo has privately termed his answer-now, put-off-for-later, and can’t-be-fucked piles. Doubtless the captain has fancier terms for them, but Ichigo’s never asked, and he likes his names.

“Captain,” he says politely. “You should go to bed, sir. It’s getting late.”

Byakuya blinks twice, and then raises his head. He’s too dignified to look weary, but there’s a certain set to his mouth, a collection of new lines between his brows that tell Ichigo he’s been here for far too long already. “Lieutenant Shiba,” he says after a moment. “I believe you have patrol in the morning with the Ninth.”

The ‘who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do’ is only implied, if strongly so.

Ichigo nods, settling his paperwork in completed and fucking-hell-that’s-a-lot-left-to-do stacks on his desk. The insane patrol schedule also means he’s dealing with roughly five times the normal amount of paperwork, and Ichigo thinks longingly of his bed. He hasn’t seen it in a very, very long time. “Yes, sir. Hisagi and I were just going over some paperwork.”

There’s no answer, which is unusual—Byakuya is generally too polite to leave a conversation, even an inane one, hanging. Ichigo looks up, slightly concerned, because surely the captain isn’t that tired. But instead Byakuya is watching him with sharp grey eyes, which have always seen far too much. He’s the only one to realize that Shiba Kei is actually a thin veneer hiding Kurosaki Ichigo, after all.

There’s a long, full pause, and then Byakuya stands. He takes three steps from his desk to reach the window, turning to present Ichigo with his back. Another pause—not quite a hesitation, though Ichigo would probably call it such with anyone else—and then he asks deliberately, “Are you adjusting well to this life, Shiba-kun?”

The question catches Ichigo off guard, and he blinks, hands stilling on the pen set at the corner of his desk. He looks down at it, tracing the lines and shadows, and considers his answer. Is he adjusting, one full year into being a legitimate shinigami? He’d like to think so, at least. There haven’t been any complaints about his tenure as lieutenant, at least, or his handling of the squads. Moreover, on a personal level, it’s a relief to have a job, to be doing something. Ichigo’s never been fond of idleness. He also remembers Rukia’s stories about the Rukongai, the hollows, the danger. At least this way he can make a difference, more than he ever could on his own. And he has Kukaku and Ganju. They’re not something he would have ever considered a bonus, before, but Kukaku is like some strange mix of Yuzu and his father with a dash of his mother and Tatsuki thrown in for good measure, and Ganju is a solid, dependable friend-slash-brother-figure. Ichigo cares for them.

But…

“Your father,” Byakuya says, with strange care, “is not among the most dignified of the captains—”

It’s very, very hard for Ichigo not to snort loudly at that.

“—but he is still a captain, and trustworthy.” The Kuchiki lord half-turns, looking at his lieutenant, and finishes softly, “I know what it is to hold oneself at a distance from family, Kurosaki Ichigo. I have also become aware of the fact that it is a mistake.”

The use of his real name almost shocks Ichigo more than the meaning of the words, because it’s so close to careless, saying such a thing in what amounts to a public area, and Kuchiki Byakuya is anything, everything but careless. Then he grasps the content and swallows, heart suddenly lodged in his throat, because—

Because Yuzu and Karin and Goat-Face are all alive, are all here, and Ichigo hasn’t been able to keep himself from ghosting by their house in the middle of the city more than once, has had to physically restrain himself from asking Momo how the old man is doing. He’d thought, arriving in Soul Society, that a little bit of distance was good. They hadn’t come to see him, and he wouldn’t have been able to see them even if they had, back when he was human. And then in Soul Society he’d had Kukaku, and then Eiji and the Academy, and then the division, and he’s entirely stopped himself from thinking about his family.

They’re safe here. They’re safe and they don’t need him to protect them anymore. Surely their lives will be better without a reminder of the reason they were killed in the first place.

Apparently Byakuya isn’t waiting for a response, because he turns, picks up a few sheets of paper, and crosses the room to lay them on Ichigo’s desk. “Please see that those are delivered directly to Captain Kurosaki in the Fifth before tomorrow evening,” he says formally, and then inclines his head in an elegant farewell and sweeps out of the office entirely.

A little dazed, Ichigo wonders if Byakuya would consider teaching him to walk like that. It’s definitely impressive, in a fuck-off-I’m-busy-and-you’re-insignificant kind of way.

Almost without conscious thought, his eyes drop to the papers on his desk. They’re nothing urgent—should he chose to embrace his inner coward, he could send them off with a seated officer in the morning and it wouldn’t change anything. Except that it would, because Byakuya just gave Ichigo the best excuse he’ll ever get for facing his mistakes and putting them to right.

Ichigo’s never, ever in his life been a coward, and being in his afterlife now isn’t about to change that.

Taking a careful breath, Ichigo picks up the forms and quickly neatens them, then turns off the office lights and heads out the door. There are no second thoughts, no hesitations—Ichigo’s the type who doesn’t waver once he’s made up his mind. He’s faced down monsters and would-be gods and Kukaku in a snit. This…this won’t be easy, but as Ichigo hurries along darkened streets, the night breeze tugging at his shihakusho, he’s almost…relieved.

Byakuya presented it as a choice, a left-or-right kind of option, and those are the kinds of choices Ichigo’s always been good at. He picks one, sets his feet on the path, and doesn’t waver. Urahara said once that his greatest ability was his growth rate, but Ichigo likes to think that his growth rate is only what it is because of his determination.


He checks the Fifth first, but the captain’s office is dark and the building is empty—to be expected, perhaps, because Goat-Face has Yuzu and Karin waiting for him at home, and he’s not one to ask his officers to work late if he isn’t as well. Without letting himself think about it, Ichigo continues on, heading for the neat little house by the eastern wall, set up as a family residence when Isshin took control of the Fifth.

It’s a pretty house, neat and orderly, and Ichigo can see Yuzu’s hand in the decoration and cheerful hominess of it. He strides up to the door, settling his courage around himself like armor, and glances his fingers over Zangetsu’s hilt for luck. The sword hums at him, approving and supportive, and Ichigo only pauses to check that the lights are all still on before he knocks politely at the door.

The resulting ruckus inside is entirely familiar, and Ichigo is fairly certain he hears Karin kick their father into at least two walls before she calls, “One second,” and there’s the sound of a lock being undone.

“What do you want? It’s late?” she asks as she pulls open the door, and then her breathing stutters ever so faintly and she goes still, staring at him. Ichigo is staring right back, though, because Karin’s always been mature, especially for her age, but now…

Now she’s a teenager, a young woman, and Ichigo has seen her at a distance, teaching the kids around the city to play soccer and generally raising hell, but this—seeing her up close is entirely different.

“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.

Mutely, Karin steps back, opening the door all the way so he can move past her. Ichigo does, even as thundering footsteps sound and a voice cries, “Who is it, my beautiful darling daughter? If it’s a robber, Daddy will save you!”

That seems to jerk Karin out of her shock, and she growls, “Who the hell needs saving?!” as she turns, performing an impressive kick that knocks their father, captain of the Fifth Division, right back into the wall.

“Oh, what a good kick! Daddy is so proud!” Isshin warbles, pulling himself out of the plaster, and Ichigo snorts before he can stop himself. Instantly, Goat-Face shifts his attention to him, and like Karin, he goes still.

Ichigo takes an unobtrusive breath, steeling himself, and then looks at his sister. “Goat-Face still giving you hell?” he asks, mouth tilting up at the corner in the half-smile that Kurosaki Ichigo always reserved for his sisters alone.

“Ichi-nii,” Karin breathes, eyes wide.

The honorific is one she stopped using years ago, and it warms something inside of Ichigo to hear it. He reaches out and ruffles her hair with a faint smile. “Hey, Karin.”

With a sound that could be a growl or a sob, Karin launches herself at him and wraps her arms firmly around his stomach. Ichigo stumbles back a step and then hugs her in return, feeling warm all the way down to his toes. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about their reaction before, hadn’t wanted to consider blame and rejection, but the lack of it is still staggering.

There’s a gasp, a cry, and another small body slamming into his side. Ichigo chuckles and shifts his grip to accommodate Yuzu as well, murmuring, “Hey, Yuzu. You look beautiful. Both of you. Geez, when did you manage to grow up?”

Karin punches him in the ribs. “While you were off playing lieutenant and ignoring your family,” she growls at him, but tellingly doesn’t move away. “I—we didn’t know it was you, Ichi-nii. You acted so different, and… Why didn’t you say something?”

Ichigo looks up to meet his father’s eyes. Isshin is standing in the middle of the hallway, face unnervingly blank and arms crossed over his chest. The last time Ichigo saw him was right before the final confrontation with Aizen, right before Aizen’s high-ranking Hollows converged on the Kurosaki house and Isshin went down fighting, along with Ichigo’s sisters.

“You died because of me,” he says honestly. “Because I chose to fight. How could I come back, after that?”

Isshin closes his eyes as though in pain, but steps forward. He wraps a hand around Ichigo’s shoulder and tugs him fully upright, then holds him at arm’s length and simply looks at him. His gaze lingers on the black hair, the lieutenant’s armband, the white-wrapped hilt of the katana peeking over Ichigo’s shoulder. Then he meets Ichigo’s eyes, and the blank look softens into something warm and proud and unspeakably relieved. He smiles and Ichigo can’t help but smile back.

“Lieutenant, huh?” his father asks lightly.

“I think Kukaku-nee-san would have butchered me and used my corpse for fertilizer if I made anything below fourth seat,” Ichigo admits, fighting back a shiver. With Kukaku, such things are less threats and more inevitable promises to be avoided at all costs.

Isshin laughs, shooing the girls away and dragging Ichigo into a tight, back-slapping hug. “That would be Kukaku,” he says fondly, and grins at his son. “Welcome home, Ichigo.”

“I’m back,” Ichigo answers quietly, and for the first time in a very long while, it’s really true.

He’s home.


“You look like hell,” Shuuhei says promptly when his newest friend rounds the corner. “Did you get any sleep at all, Shiba?”

“Good morning to you, too, Hisagi,” Kei mutters, and really, Shuuhei’s seen him look bad before—they’re all running themselves down to the bone, these days—but this is entirely different. The normally pristine lieutenant is still neat, but there’s a nearly rumpled air to him, and deep, dark circles under his eyes. Still, regardless of that, he looks almost…light, as though some weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.

Still awful, but also happy.

Shuuhei studies his friend critically. The Shiba is usually keyed up before a patrol, but now he’s relaxed. The black ponytail isn’t quite as tight as normal, giving him a more comfortable look, and there’s a red scarf tied like a sash around his waist. That’s definitely new, and by the look of it it’s a woman’s scarf, so the obvious conclusion is…

“You got laid?” Shuuhei demands.

He gets the satisfaction of seeing Shiba Kei, genius and prodigy, flush a dull red from the tips of his ears down to his collarbones and start spluttering. “Wh-what? No! Why the hell would you think that?”

Shuuhei snorts, reaching out to touch a stray piece of black hair that has the audacity to escape its tie and frame Kei’s face. “Because for once it doesn’t look like you used a winch to pull your hair back, you’re wearing the same uniform as yesterday—don’t try to deny it, you spilled tea on the edge of your sleeve and I can see the stain—you’re wearing a sash that would make Rangiku envious, and you look like you got maybe an hour of sleep at the most. Logically…” He trails off meaningfully.

Kei’s face goes about four shades darker. “No! The scarf was a gift from my sister. I spent time with my family last night!”

“What? That’s boring,” Shuuhei complains, disappointed, but he takes a step back. “And here I was hoping to live vicariously through you. But I suppose if you had to endure a night with Shiba Kukaku that’s punishment enough.”

Kei mutters something Shuuhei is probably lucky not to catch, and drops the subject like a ton of bricks—and with about that much subtlety, as well. “We’ve got the 54th District today, right?” he asks, turning away and heading for where their squads are assembled. “Western quadrant?”

Because he’s feeling magnanimous, Shuuhei doesn’t call the other lieutenant on it, simply following the swaying ponytail with a faint, amused smile. “Of course. Akon says they’ve been picking up strange reiatsu readings bouncing around the district, and he wants us to check it out.” Seeing the fairly blank look on Kei’s face, Shuuhei rolls his eyes a little. The man is really terrible at matching names with faces. “You know, that guy I was eating lunch with the other day? Brown hair, horns, shares his skin color with an anemic corpse? Second in command of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute?”

With a matching roll of his eyes, Kei flicks a hand in acknowledgement and calls to his shinigami, “Squad Seven, all accounted for?”

The squad leader, a small woman with dark green hair, salutes as she steps forward. “Yes, Lieutenant Shiba!”

With a faint wince at the volume, Shuuhei takes a look at his own men. “Squad Fifteen, any problems?”

“None, Lieutenant Hisagi,” the young man at the front offers with a grin. “All present and prepared.”

Shuuhei and Kei exchange glances, holding a silent debate, and then Kei inclines his head, ceding control of the mission to the older lieutenant. With a nod of thanks, Shuuhei steps forward. “All right, let’s move out.”


“Something’s weird about this,” Shuuhei murmurs, just loud enough for Ichigo to hear.

Crouched on the ground in front of him, studying the markings in the muddy earth, Ichigo nods in silent understanding. The weird reiatsu signatures keep flitting around the district, pausing for barely a handful of seconds before they move on again, and it’s making Ichigo and Shuuhei both a little twitchy. It doesn’t feel like a Hollow, either, but the bodies of a group of travelers at the last site are more than enough to show it’s just as deadly as one.

“I don’t like it,” Ichigo agrees, looking back at the tracks in the dirt. There are no settlements around here, and the others have already checked the area for wanderers, of whom there are none. They’re not actually that far behind whatever the thing jumping around the district is, but these…

These are, without a doubt, human tracks. From several humans, if Ichigo isn’t mistaken. He can’t feel any reiatsu, either, which is another sign that something’s wrong.

An idea flickers through his thoughts, and he rises to his feet. “Hold on, I’m going to try something.”

Shuuhei steps back, looking wary. “What?”

Closing his eyes, Ichigo focuses on the reiatsu shivering in the air around him, rising in sparks and coils, and concentrates on compressing and visualizing the ribbons of reiraku. “Spirit ribbons,” he says shortly. “Shinigami show up red, Hollows are black, and everyone else is white. Even if we can’t track them like this, it will give us an idea of what we’re facing.”

“Seeing reiraku is a high-level technique,” Shuuhei says, but he sounds interested.

Before Ichigo can answer, the awareness just…snaps into place around him, and he opens his eyes with a faintly satisfied smile. “Got it,” he murmurs, surveying the whirl of red around him. It’s easy enough to pick out the familiar feel of his squad, and Shuuhei’s squad only takes a moment longer. Carefully, he drops into a crouch again, studying the air above the footprints, and consciously blanks his face to keep from scowling and/or swearing.

“Shiba?” Shuuhei asks sharply.

“What’s the body count these guys have racked up?” Ichigo asks tightly, rather than answering. He keeps his eyes fixed on the damning ribbons of power twisting across his vision.

“Over fifty civilians,” Shuuhei says, and he’s beginning to sound grim. Like he can guess what Ichigo found, but doesn’t like it. Ichigo doesn’t blame him; he doesn’t like it at all, either. “And they put two squads in the hospital before we started joint patrols. Six dead, eleven with serious wounds, three with no chance of recovery.”

Ichigo pushes to his feet again, trying his best not to grind his teeth. “Shinigami,” he explains flatly. “Their reiraku is red. Damn it.”

We Don't Have to Choose Just One

Also on AO3.
This is the @miraculousfluffmonth  Aug 14 prompt, telling the truth.


“Hey Chat, can we talk a minute?” Ladybug asked as she landed near him on the Eiffel Tower.  They were meeting up for their usual mid-week check in and joint patrol, and there was something she’d been putting off bringing up for far too long.

“We can talk for more than a minute,” he said with a smirk.  "You have my absolute attention, My Lady.“  He bowed to her.

She sat down patting the space next to her.  "Why so far away, Chaton?”  She’d gotten good at keeping her Ladybug and Marinette nicknames for him straight, though she occasionally dreamed of outing herself by using the wrong one.

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Ladrien Summer (7/?)

ladrien summer tag | table of contents

Patrol that night was a quiet one.

The worst part of all that, Ladybug thought as she scanned the city below for trouble, was that Alya had a point. Adrien didn’t need Ladybug swooping in and ruining his life, even if he, for all appearances, seemed to really like her.

She finally, finally, finally had her chance, and she’d be the first in line to take it, except…

Except.

Now she was faced with the moral dilemma of whether she should or not.

“So,” said Chat, interrupting her stewing. “…Adrien?”

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Opacity

Angst. Post-TYBW. Canon-Compliant. Part three of the Truth To Hide series. Ren//Ruki and implied Ichiruki. ~700 words.

Dissembling to yourself is a skill hard-learned, and must be oft-practised. 

[ AO3


There are several things that Renji Abarai knows to be true: the yakisoba noodles from the yatai near the city wall down by the Eleventh are the best in the Seireitei, Ukitake-taichou’s favourite tea is the fancy one from the tea shop just over the wall in the 1st District of the Rukongai, and Ichigo Kurosaki is in love with Rukia Kuchiki.

After Ukitake-taichou dies, Renji amends his list of inescapable truths – it now includes the fact that Rukia will take up Ukitake’s haori and she will do it well, and he wonders, as he watches her move through the horde of Hollows they came across while on joint patrol, what Ichigo Kurosaki is doing now. He puts the thought out of his mind and steps up to guard Rukia’s weaker side. She looks up at him, that old fierce grin on her face and eyes alight with the heat of the fight, before leaping back into the fray with a yell.

Three years pass, much the same, Rukia steadily clawing her way into the taichou’s role through grit and determination and nerve, and Renji thinks she’ll make it this year, and then there’s a hell butterfly, from the gensei – and there’s a very short list of who can send one of those there. Renji never asks what was in the message, but Rukia shrinks afterwards.

She collapses in on herself, and Renji adds another thing to his list of truths: If he sees Ichigo Kurosaki again, he will tear that son of a bitch’s head clean off his shoulders. With his bare hands.

Renji picks the pieces of Rukia up, and puts them back together as best as he can. He’s not stupid, he knows the reason she falls into bed with him isn’t because she actually wants to be there, with him, it’s just because the person she’d rather fall into bed with - the person she used to fall into bed with if the rumours are to be believed - is no longer available and well, she’s only mostly human.

Renji will not begrudge her the comfort she takes in his arms, and he only lies to himself a little about how it makes him feel.

(It doesn’t feel like someone is driving a knife between his ribs when she closes her eyes at the peak of her pleasure, when she bites her bottom lip until it goes white and bloodless, in an effort to keep the words he can hear in the back of her throat from spilling out - she forgets herself in the heat of their joining, forgets that his hands aren’t young and barely battle-scared, that his hair is red, that her fingers tangle in it so much more than they used to in someone else’s - and Renji thinks he’s pretty good at this whole lying to himself thing.)

When Rukia gets pregnant, they marry quickly and quietly (with her brother’s blessing) and she gives birth to their daughter - rough and tumble and red-headed and violet-eyed - and Renji falls (madly, deeply, irrevocably) in love with this tiny girl that wraps her whole hand around one of his fingers.

Ichika (and Renji bites back so much when they choose the name that he fears he might actually break a tooth from the pressure on his jaw) is his baby girl, she is his tiny shadow, traipsing around after him everywhere.

Things settle comfortably between him and Rukia - they have their daughter and their jobs and that leaves neither of them with much time to wallow in ‘what if’ or ‘maybe’. Renji stops adding things to his list of truths, because the only truth that matters now is that Ichika is his, and there is no truer thing.

They don’t go down to the gensei again until Rukia finally gets the promotion to taichou, and as soon as Renji watches Rukia make eye contact with Ichigo, the last ten years falls away in the sweep of soot-black eyelashes against porcelain skin and the clench of a broad hand around a door frame.

“Yo,” says Ichigo and Renji finds himself forcibly reminded of that previous singular and most important truth - Ichigo Kurosaki loves Rukia Kuchiki, and now, watching the slow smile that curves across Rukia’s lips, Renji wonders how he could ever have thought otherwise.

Ladybird Watching

Alyadrien week 4th day: Chat Noir/Miraculous Wielder Alya

I really enjoyed writing this one. I imagine these two would eventually end up getting on Ladybug’s nerves. xD


“What are you looking at?” Renarde asked.

“Nothing.” Chat Noir replied.

They were on a roof overlooking their school. Chat Noir had been looking through his baton to keep a closer eye on it when Renarde had arrived.

Renarde crossed her arms. “Really? Because to me it looks like you’re staring at the front of the school.”

Chat shook his head. “This is part of Ladybug’s route. If you wait a couple minutes you’ll see why I’m waiting for her.”

Renarde perked up and her fox ears stood in attention. “Ladybug? Now you have my attention.” She snickered and sat down next to him.

“Yeah, she always does this thing when she gets to the school.” Seeing her confused look he just smiled lopsidedly. “You need to see it to get what I mean.”

Renarde frowned and opened her own weapon to watch the school closely. Chat hummed excitedly. “There she is!”

She blinked and watch as Ladybug came in swinging from behind the school and landed on the roof. The bug looked around for a moment to make sure she was alone before grinning. She spun her yoyo and-

“What?” Renarde couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Right? She just doesn’t seem the type.” Chat said while shaking his head.

“Yeah, I mean I could see you doing it.” He coughed and glared at her. “But Ladybug? Never would have guessed she was like that.

He quirked his lips into a grin. “Isn’t it exiting though? To watch her have so much fun?” He flushed happily.

Renarde nodded rapidly. “She’s so adorable!” They shared a grin as they continued to watch their superhero teammate.

Sadly, Ladybug stopped soon after and continued on her patrol.

Renarde pouted. “Aw. She left.”

Chat chuckled. “Don’t worry, she does this every Friday.” He waved off her concern.

“Guess that means I’m freeing up my Friday night from now on.” She chuckled with him.

“But really-” Renarde continued. “Who knew she was such a free spirit?”

Chat nodded. “Yeah, did you see when she bent-?”

“Yes!” She beamed. “It was so cool! Where did she learn that?”

He shrugged. “The Internet. Probably.”

Renarde frowned and bopped herself on the head. “Of course. Should’ve guessed that myself.”

“Do you think she’ll ever be comfortable enough to do a joint patrol with us?”

She looked at him closely. “I would imagine getting her to do that with us is going to be really difficult.”

“It would be worth it though.” He sighed.

“Yeah.” She agreed. “We’ll have to bring it up sometime.”

Chat nodded. “Until then I guess we’ll have to settle for watching her secretly.”

“I can’t wait to see more tricks.” Renarde paused. “Does she do different stuff every time or…?”

“Sometimes she tries to up her technique and other times she tries something daring and new.” Chat winked at her. “The latter is when it gets really good.”

She giggled. “I can’t wait to see more.” She glanced at the time. “Crud. I got to go Chat.”

He nodded. “Sure, see you next Friday.” He paused. “Or at the next akuma attack.” He added.

Renarde grinned as she leapt away. She would definitely have to convince her to let Chat and her watch more closely. She couldn’t wait till next Friday to see Ladybug practice her yoyo techniques again.  

Thank You for the Daisies

My contribution to the Follower Appreciation Week. 

A thank you drabble for +100 Followers — thank you so much to each and every single one of you! 

@rosesintea​ said: “I’m really obsessed with canon universe ereris dating rn.  Levi trying to be romantic and giving Eren flowers. Eren leaving notes for him when he drops off paperwork.  The two of them trying to be subtle but all the other soldiers just roll their eyes at how obvious they are.”

You inspired me! I hope, you’ll like it. <3

Link to the fic on AO3.


Neither of them had actually thought about it before. Never really believed it could happen anyhow.

Levi was convinced he was too fucking old anyway. Too jaded. How could he ever be worthy of Eren?

Eren was convinced he was too young. Too dangerous. How could he ever be worthy of Humanity’s Strongest?

Then again…maybe it had been clear where things would lead to from the very start. And one sunny afternoon Levi had looked at Eren just a second too long and suddenly their worries didn’t matter anymore.

Eren was so beautiful. Even the sun couldn’t keep up with him.

Levi was…well…simply Levi. Eren didn’t see anyone else.

When Eren awoke on the next day his first thoughts were filled with light. Instantly his heart skipped a beat and when he stood up to go into the bathroom he felt like he was floating. The world was still the same to his surprise. Yet it felt so different.

After washing and scrubbing himself twice all over he shuffled into the kitchen and without really considering it first, he fetched two bowls of porridge and hasted off to see Levi.

Levi didn’t tease him for forgetting the spoons. In the end they didn’t eat anyway. At least not for a while.

- - -

It had to remain a secret, of course. The possibility for the authorities to doubt Levi’s loyalty when they’d find out was too risky. It wouldn’t matter to them that Eren relied on Levi just as well to keep him from harming others.

So they tried their best to be discreet.

Sometimes during training Levi’s hand would linger barely noticeably on Eren or squeeze shortly.

Sometimes during eating Eren’s feet would nudge against Levi’s with a muttered excuse or elbows would touch.

When they met in the hallway knuckles would incidentally brush against each other and peeks went back and forth. Fleeting smirks and stealthy gestures, received with increasing heart rates and faint blushes.

Messages were written and exchanged. Read in deserted corridors, quiet corners under stairs, or in the stables, raising soundless beams. No one ever wondered about notes changing owners. Everybody knew that Eren couldn’t read or write and that Levi was helping him. They didn’t have to know that Eren had made quite a progress.

You honestly got me soap for our one week anniversary…

Tonight right before curfew. Same place.

Did you know your Titan has your eyes? Only bigger. Fucking gorgeous.

Eren hid every single piece of paper between his fresh clothes after running his fingertips over Levi’s neatly written words. The latest one he usually kept under his pillow.

Happy weekiversary.

Thank you for last night. I like your nose. Boop! (Do you write boop! like that?)

Dreaming about you too.

Levi had them all collected in his secret drawer, shaking his head at himself for his youthfulness and smiling softly at Eren’s bold handwriting that got better with every word.

Even Hanji didn’t know about that drawer.

- - -

They met late at night for gentle whispers and soft kisses.

Levi would never admit how Eren’s ravenous passion drove him crazy. Nor would he ever admit how much he loved how Eren’s eyes would shine afterwards. And how safe he felt with him.

Eren showed Levi over and over again how weak he was to his coy tendernesses. He couldn’t get enough of Levi’s lips, or of his deep voice that kept on telling him all kinds of sweet things. When Eren would sneak back into his room even later at night, his cheeks were swollen with elation, his whole being radiating it.

Levi scheduled joint patrolling hours and private lessons.

Mikasa and Armin exchanged knowing glances. Eren didn’t notice.

Levi’s frown was a little less deep these days. Erwin didn’t comment on it, deciding that if he didn’t know for sure, he didn’t have to report anything. Hanji on the other hand got curious and started to casually drop information, like mentioning an upcoming meteor shower one week during an experiment with Eren.

What about star gazing tonight?

I fucking love stars.

Levi opened a small bottle of sweet wine that night. They drank it out of teacups as they marvelled at the sky and the fireflies nearby.

When Eren kissed Levi, he tasted like wine, confessions, and moonlight.

Hanji nodded knowingly at Levi’s expressly neutral behaviour the next morning. Jean looked at Eren’s dreaminess and only rolled his eyes. Under the table a hand shortly squeezed a knee before coming up and reaching for freshly steeped tea.

Their nighttime visits continued.

Levi told Eren of the underground city while Eren held him close and caressed his back.

Eren told Levi about growing up in Shingashina and remembering naps in flower fields while Levi washed his hair in the tub.

A few days later a soldier wondered about a single wild flower shyly peeking out of Eren’s jacket pocket.

Thank you for the daisies. They are beautiful.

They are called daisies? Sounds nice.

- - -

The rumour spread that one morning Captain Levi had been caught smiling into his tea at breakfast. Nobody dared to ask why or if it even was true. It couldn’t be.

Still, people began to observe more closely.

Eren would visibly lighten up when Levi was mentioned or stood nearby. It wasn’t something new to anyone. Eren had never made a secret about his obsessive infatuation.

Levi got spotted a few times to visit Eren in his room. It wasn’t too suspicious—he had every right to do so after all—and who would have seriously thought that Levi would let Eren doze off in his arms, while he petted his head.

You look cute when you sleep.

Sorry for drooling on your shirt.

Months passed by.

Levi started to teach Eren how to play chess.

Eren showed Levi how to enjoy the winter times.

Why don’t you just tell me why I need to bring a carrot tonight?

You’ll see.

Eren was a source of warmth in the freezing snow. Especially when he laughed.

Levi was…well…still simply Levi. And when he looked at Eren with affectionate eyes, his nose and cheeks red from the cold, all Eren wanted to do was catch the moment.

On the next day nobody mentioned the scowling snowman with the stone buttons, face mask and broom a couple of meters away from the headquarter, surrounded by one small and one bigger set of footprints.

The next evening Levi joined the young adults during their vespertine matches of Whist for the first time, ordering Eren to explain the rules to him. If anyone remembered the Captain’s former—and repetitive—mentions of his dislike in card games, it wasn’t brought up.

Life went on. They undertook an expedition and somehow succeeded. That night Eren snuck into Levi’s room and together they forgot the world. Afterwards Eren hummed Levi a song his mother had sung to him and Mikasa when they’d been little. It was the first night they completely spent in each others company. Levi had never slept this well before.

Spring came and Eren seemed to glow.

Summer came and Levi invented plausible explanations for the vase with roses that appeared on his office desk one day. People swore he smiled at them from time to time.

Neither Levi nor Eren would notice how the other soldiers had began to make sure they’d end up sitting close to each other during their meals at least once a day, leaving two adjacent, diagonal, or facing chairs unoccupied. At least they didn’t for a long time.

Yes, they all knew.

None ever said a word.

Ladrien Summer (9/?)

ladrien summer tag

Ladybug kicked her heels against the side of the building she was sitting on and sighed.

She’d been planning to find a way to find Adrien in costume again (to apologize and talk to him and maybe do some other things, too, if they got there), but…

Alya had been grumpy and short for the rest of the school day — she hadn’t even smiled when Chloé ended up stepping on a rake one of the gardeners had left by the lawn, which told Marinette that whatever funk her friend was in, it was bad — and had bid Marinette a distracted goodbye at the end of the day, frowning at her phone screen as she power-walked in the direction of her home.

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Fanfic: Lord Zarkon is Never Ready (2)

Summary: Despite the peace in the universe, Zarkon is famous for his fighting prowess and readiness to face his opponents. But when it comes to Keith, he is never ready.

An AU where the Voltron universe is a peaceful universe, Zarkon is the Black Paladin he was supposed to be and the only things he hate with passion are Coran’s goo and a boy named Takashi Shirogane. 

***Inspired by @inariazuha’s works. 

***Thank you for the permission to credit!

Click here for Part 1!

###Lord Zarkon is not Ready for Successors###

“So you’re saying these toys can represent our lions in seeking our successors,” Zarkon clarified with a deadpanned tone.

The talk had come up upon the Paladins’ weekly dinner a month ago, but Zarkon didn’t take it seriously. Now he regretted it, because Alfor certainly had, and his band of Royal Engineers had made tiny version of their lions and had the gall to claim that those mini-Voltrons could do the job. Nuh uh. Not going to believe it.

“Not exactly representing, but their activation trigger is connected to our lions’ activation trigger, so they won’t be turned on unless their Paladin—or someone worthy to be their Paladin—is nearby. That’s also why we only have Black and Blue active right now.”

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Ladrien June Day 14 - Merry-Go-Round

Apparently some people call these “roundabouts”. But I am referring to the playground toy, not a carousel. 

Ladybug kept her eyes on the street as she swung from building to building. Solo patrols were less fun but a lot more productive, which is why she always made sure they did them as well as their weekly joint patrol.

It had been a fairly uneventful night so far. She stopped a mugging and a drug deal, but that was a slow night for a city the size of Paris. She was probably going to finish up soon. Just a couple more streets.

She was scanning a park that was known for being a hang out for petty criminals when she saw a figure sitting on the merry-go-round.

Was that… Adrien Agreste?

She jumped down, trying to get a closer look. It was him! He was sitting on the edge of the merry-go-round, moving the gravel around with his foot, looking down at his lap.

“You shouldn’t be out here this late.” Ladybug said, walking towards him.

His head jerked up in surprise. “What?”

“This park.” She gestured around. “It’s kind of dangerous at night.”

“Oh.” He said, standing up and shifting awkwardly. “Thanks.”

The stood in silence for a moment, looking at their feet.

“What are you doing out here anyways?” She asked suddenly.

Adrien hesitated and ran his hand through his hair. “Good question.” He said, laughing bitterly.

“Are you okay?” She asked, worried.

He sighed. “Kind of?” He sat back on the merry-go-round. “My dad’s a jerk.”

“Oh.” She sat next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” He slumped, looking more defeated than she had ever seen him. Her heart ached for him. She knew from Nino that his father was very restrictive and never let him do what he wanted.

And idea came to her suddenly. She stood up and grabbed the side of the merry-go-round.

“What are you doing?” He asked, surprised.

“Hold on.” She warned as she began to spin the metal contraption.

Adrien laughed as she built up speed. She jumped on and smiled at him. He grinned back, joy replacing sadness, and she felt her heart swell.

the night patrol, chapter four

chapter title: Sweet Little Lies
words: 3.4k
story summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir independently discover each others’ civilian identities, and start doing their own night patrols to secretly learn more about one another. In the process, they find themselves falling even harder for each other—but when they fight together, both feel compelled to pretend that they don’t know the truth. (lots of Marichat, lots of Ladrien, slow burn Ladynoir)

previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

a/n: Shout out to all the folks who have been waiting since February for me to update this!! I promise you won’t have to wait more than two weeks for the next chapter this time :D

AO3 | Fanfiction


It’s Wednesday night, and Ladybug is sitting on top of Notre Dame, waiting for a familiar pair of neon green eyes and a Cheshire grin to appear beside her.  Tonight’s the night for their joint patrol, and he should be here soon.

Tonight, they’re going to patrol all the popular tourist spots in Paris—one of which, incidentally, is the same place where she learned the truth about Chat Noir’s identity and it turned her world upside down.  

The clock strikes 9, and she wonders why he’s running late. But at the same time, she’s a little grateful. She’s been daydreaming about the events from last night all day, but she’s still not sure what to say to Chat Noir when he shows up.

Because Ladybug doesn’t know if she can be casual around him anymore. She cares too much now. It was easy, when she thought that Chat Noir was a stranger, to stay neutral and composed, to flirt with ease and bat off his attempts to kiss her hand.

But now she knows he’s Adrien, and she’s seen the way he blushes when he looks at her with those sea foam eyes. And she’s seen Chat Noir at his most vulnerable and unguarded, visiting his civilian classmate at her bakery at night, all for the sake of learning a little bit about her, and instead revealing his own need for simple comfort and acceptance, with no judgment or expectation.

And though Ladybug’s great at hiding secrets, she’s always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and sometimes, it makes her act before she thinks. That’s why Chat’s always been such a perfect partner for her. He tempers her, makes her come down from the extremes she reaches when she goes too far and leaps ahead of herself.

But how can he help her now, when he himself is the reason behind her emotional turmoil? There’s so much she wants to say to Chat Noir now that she’s aware of who he really is, to respond with actual sincerity when he flirts with her, because now she knows the truth about his feelings. And how they reflect her own.

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modernsapho  asked:

Ladynoir for prompt 48. “Boo.” Since we ~are~ getting a Halloween episode 🎃

Marinette was tired. Her morning had started off early, having promised to help her mother and father with a particularly large order that was set to be picked up before noon that day. Shortly after, a surprise visit from Mme. Chamack left her babysitting Manon for the rest of the afternoon, which drained her reserves even more so.

The past week in general had been pretty hellish, exams sprinkled throughout and a series of particularly gruelling detention sessions courtesy of Mme. Mendeleiev after she’d missed one too many classes on top of it all. After a criminally small amount of down-time and a disorienting attempt at a short nap, she remembered she had joint patrol with Chat that night and sighed.

Tikki patted her cheek sympathetically before she sat up, squaring her shoulders and stretching her arms as far as they could reach. She was tired, but it’d almost been a week since she last saw her green-eyed partner and she had to admit, she missed him a bit.

When the magic of the suit washed over her, she felt lighter. Her muscles less worn. Swinging high above the rooftops, she found their designated meeting spot with ease, not too surprised to find herself early, and after touching down, let herself splay out on the flat surface of the roof.

Eyes drawn to the moon, full and bright in the starless sky above her, she breathed in deep and let it out slow. She felt her eyes close as her body relaxed. Listening to the sounds of Paris’ nightlife beginning to stir around her, she felt calm.

Minutes passed and she almost drifted off, until she felt someone land at her feet. As silent as his namesake, she suppressed a smile as she sensed more than heard her partner’s presence carefully move above her. When she opened her eyes again, it was to bright green orbs hovering mere inches away from her face. They widened noticeably when they met her gaze and she took in his surprise with a smile. “Boo?”

Chat’s lips quirked up in return, impressed as he stared back down at her. “Boo. Though, it loses a bit of it’s effect when you’re expecting it.”

Marinette felt a burst of affection run through her at his predictable display, a small laugh escaping her lips at his expense. “I know you, Chat Noir.” Green eyes crossed a bit as her finger tapped his nose lightly. “You’ll have to work a bit harder than that if you want to get the drop on this bug.”

“I’ll have to step up my game, then.”

“You assume you have much game to begin with, minou.”

Me-owch! You wound me, Bugaboo.” He shot her a much too pleased grin, and she braced herself for the pun she knew would follow. “Guess I’ll simply have to console myself with your company.”

If she hadn’t just been knee-deep in thought, mulling over the long events of the past few days, content and quiet in her own space, she might have rolled her eyes. Might have pressed her palm over his grin and pushed him away with a groan. But it was late and she’s tired and the twitching of Chat’s ears at her lack of response make her lips pull back into an easy smile. It was kind of cute, really.

“It’s been a long week, kitty cat.” She reached up, fingers sliding through tousled blonde strands before coming to rest by his cat ears. She scratches behind the one closest to her, watching as his body reacts, bright green eyes fluttering close and head leaning instinctively into her touch. “I think that warrants a little bit of downtime, don’t you?”

She’d kept scratching as she spoke, noticing the way Chat’s body lowered itself slowly, his cheek brushing hers as he relaxed. “Some downtime sounds purr-fect, my Lady.”

His face nestled close, finding refuge in the warmth of her neck as he unabashedly indulged in her affections. She felt the urge to laugh as he purred against her, the vibrations tickling her skin. “We should definitely do this more often.”

Staring up at moon, her partner’s warmth falling to curl at her side, she couldn’t help but think that too.

the night patrol, chapter two

chapter title: A Casual Evening Stroll
words: 3k
story summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir independently discover each others’ civilian identities, and start doing their own night patrols to secretly learn more about one another. In the process, they find themselves falling even harder for each other—but when they fight together, both feel compelled to pretend that they don’t know the truth. (lots of Marichat, lots of Ladrien, slow burn Ladynoir)

previous chapters: 1

a/n: First up: Marichat! Also, I just really like making sure Adrien eats well, the poor boy just wants to eat and I love feeding him lolol

AO3 | Fanfiction


It’s Monday night, which means that Chat Noir is out on patrol.

Though it’s an early autumn night, the wind has a subtle undercurrent of ice, and he shivers a little bit as he leaps across the rooftops of Paris towards his destination.

Even though Ladybug and Chat Noir have always made sure to share as few personal details as possible, they’ve always been aware that they’re both students, so they split night patrol duty—Chat Noir has Mondays and Thursdays, they do a joint patrol on Wednesdays, and Ladybug is in charge of Tuesdays and Fridays.

Chat Noir no longer remembers why they chose those specific dates, but both of them have gotten used to the cadence and the rhythm of the schedule, and there’s a certain comfort to knowing that he has a few hours to take in the night air, an escape from schedules and the restriction of life in the mansion as he scales the heights of Paris.

But tonight, there’s only one rooftop that Chat Noir is interested in scaling. He’s supposed to be in a different arrondisement than the one he’s in, but there’s a reason. His intention tonight is to patrol the area around 12 Gottlieb Road.

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