(I literally went through the entire tag and there’s so much omg I can’t)
“Really, kitty.” Marinette scoffed. Adrien had given her a special device that had an earpiece attached, so that they could communicate during battle. It was a very advanced device, and Marinette had to keep it hidden so Alya would find the very expensive, phone-like thing and switch into journalist mode.
Living with Alya was difficult. Marinette had been Ladybug, Paris’ superhero, since she was 15, and Alya had been on her tail the entire time. At 21 and studying communications, majoring in journalism, the Ladyblog had become more of a fan website than a mystery hub. Marinette used it to spread words of safety and reassurance sometimes, if her kitty was having a cat-nap.
Silly kitty, she sent back. Adrien was such a doofus. The biggest idiot. Back to when he could barely fight to save his ass, she hadn’t taken him seriously.
Then he’d saved her life.
Then he took off that damned helmet with the cat ears.
And whoops! Har har, your partner in crime fighting and flirting practise was a super model! Who knew? Marinette hadn’t that’s for sure.
She sighed fondly at the phone. I tell you that I design clothes and you ask if I’ve got something to wear?
Well, I’ll be evaluating your fashion sense, bugaboo. Your boyfriend happens to be forced into wearing fashionable clothing every day of his life.
She giggled. Poor you.
8:30 meet, princess, on the very top of the Eiffel tower. Don’t be late.
How are you getting there?
“Uh oh.” Marinette hid her smile and the phone when Alya burst into her room.
“Girl, you’ve gotta help me!” Alya looked miserable. “I’ve been digging for hours: I can’t find anything to wear!”
Alya blew a curl out of her eyes. “One that he gave me no time to prepare for! Nino!”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Marinette promised. She had her own date night outfit to sort out, but it could wait 15 minutes.
She found Alya lying face down in a pile of clothes.
“Excuse me, this isn’t nothing!”
“This is a pile of sweatpants!”
“He loves you in sweatpants: Don’t lie.”
“It’s a proper date, Marinette.” She grumbled.
“Hey, I’ve been on a proper date before!” She said defensively, raking through the flannel shirts. Alya rocked flannel shirts and body-tight dresses.
“With who? Nathaniel, or Theo? 10th grade was a wild ride, huh?”
Five minutes later, Alya was satisfied and applying eyeliner. “I forgot I had those shoes!”
“See, no need to panic. Have fun on your date!”
“Will do, Mari. Don’t forget: There’s a whole world out there! Full of boys!”
Marinette laughed. If only you knew…
In her own room, she dragged the chest out from under her bed. It was full of Ladybug themed clothes: Garments she’d made to wear to special occasions, like ceremonies in honour of her.
She grinned, pulling out a carefully tailored dress, mask and pair of heels.
“He’s going to love it!” Tikki swam around her head.
Marinette sighed, looking back at the chest. There were old suits, too. She pulled out the first one: Plain red, covered in black spots with a black collar. Her first suit. “You know what else he’d love? A fashion show. But not featuring him.”
“For once.” Tikki giggled. She liked the idea of Marinette dating a super model as much as Mari did. “Do you fit into those suits, Marinette?”
“I didn’t grow as much as I wanted too, unfortunately. Besides, they stretch. I only have so many because…trends fade.”
“Not tonight, Mari. I think you’ve got enough on your hands.”
Marinette released her transformation, clinging on to the tower. Was this safe? Probably not.
“What are we planning to do up here?” Tikki asked, resting on Marinette’s shoulder. Mari wore her Ladybug mask, dress and heels under the superhero suit and now was balancing in strong winds in stilettoes.
“I don’t know, but I hope he turns up soon.” She checked her simplistic golden watch. 6:30.
Her Fancy-Phone buzzed.
Kitty: Are you there, m’lady?
LB: Yes, where are you?
“Stop with the winky faces, Adrien.” She murmured, looking around.
There was a faint flickering of lights. And then–
“Oh my god.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. The lights of Paris flickered out, and then on again. They were red, in the shade of a ladybug.
She spied a little red loveheart before the lights flickered out and returned to normal once more.
The Fancy-Phone buzzed again.
Come down to the highest viewing platform, m’lady. We have it to ourselves tonight.
Her heart was thudding. “Tikki, spots on!”
She jumped down to the platform, where Adrien was sitting behind a computer screen. He closed it, pulling the cat-eared hood of his jumper down, beaming at her.
“How did you do that?” She breathed.
“I’ve been planning that for months.” Her pushed the laptop and all of it’s strange attachments into his black and green laptop bag. He unzipped the very Chat Noir hoodie and shrugged it off, revealing a white button-down with black slacks and glossy black shoes.
He was gorgeous. But Ladybug already knew that.
“I thought you were going to wear something different? Not that I don’t like the suit.” He walked toward her. She walked back, bumping against the railing. “I love the suit, actually.”
“I love you.”
“You’ve said that, too.”
“Did you like it?” He turned her around.
“Did I like it? Adrien, you overrided the city’s electricity company and did something wack with it, just for a date.” She grinned up at him. “Of course I love you. It. You. I loved it. And you.”
He laughed. “It was nothing, just overriding the signal for a few seconds. The tricky part was the red filters: I had to work out what lights needed them and I had to do it personally. Do you know how many hours of my spare time I pretended to be an electrician for?”
Ladybug burst out laughing. “Sp–Spots off…”
The transformation washed over her. Adrien took–no–stumbled a few steps back, hand over his heart. Then he saw she was still wearing a mask and smiled. And then his eyes shot wide open.
The dress was cinched in at the waist, with a halterneck strap tied in a big bow at the back. It was red, of course, but there were no spots. Black lace fringed the skirt that was swished around in the wind. Her shoes were black and matched her mask.
“Where did you…” He took her hand, spinning her around. She smiled.
“You like it, Hacker Boy?” She grinned.
“Holy macaroni. Holy fu–”
“Kitty.” She flicked his nose.
“Hey!” His smile softened. “You look amazing.” He brushed her hair across her forehead. The mask shifted. His eyes widened, but he simply readjusted it. “No kissing, or the mask might come off.”
“I can’t promise no kissing. You’ll just have to keep your eyes closed.” She grinned slyly. “I thought you’d leap at the chance to know your bugaboo.”
“I’d leap at a fair chance. Consent, buginette.”
Marinette grit her teeth. He didn’t know her in real life, so how had he created a nickname so similar to her real name? It just gave her the shivers. “No. Buginette.”
“No frowns.” He pulled her away from the edge.
“How did you get the viewing platform, all to yourself?”
He winked. “I’m Adrien Agreste.”
She grit her teeth. “Kitten.”
“Shh.” He kissed her on the cheek. They sat down.
“What’s for dinner, hm?”
“Best pastries in Paris.”
Marinette nearly blacked out. Of course, her parent’s bakery was rather famous now, but to see her boyfriend with a mint green box and the logo she designed on it…it was definitely a shock. “Oh…I–I love that bakery!”
“Most amazing food in all of Paris. Mostly because it was one of the first places I went to when I first snuck out of home.”
Oh, my. Marinette smiled up at him.
He’d bought a pie and a quiche that they cut in half to share and a collection of sweets. It was all delicious: It reminded Marinette how badly she missed her father’s cooking. Her father. And her mother. Marinette snagged one of the macarons and broke a large chunk off, sliding it behind her.
“Mm?” Her head fell on his shoulder. He smelt amazing, though that wasn’t out of the ordinary. She found that she liked the way he smelt after a difficult fight: Hot and sticky, with his heart racing.
“How old are you?”
She laughed. “What if I told you I was…16?”
“I’d actually stab myself in the eye.”
“Don’t worry.” Their fingers laced together. “21.”
“Good. I mean, I knew you weren’t younger than 18. That would have been a…”
“Don’t do it.”
“Oh my god.”
“You thought you’d get through one night without a pun!” She squealed when he pulled her up off the floor. “Huh? You thought I would spare you, Bugaboo?” He spun her into her arms.
“No kisses for lame jokes!” She couldn’t admit that his endearing charm and stupid, stupid puns were very much what made her fall in love. With everything else.
The mask fell off in the heat of the moment.
“My eyes are shut.” He promised, letting her go.
Marinette looked at the mask, and then up at him. Her hands framed his jaw. “Keep them that way.”
She wasn’t sure how much more romantic you could get. A gorgeous boy, a gorgeous dress, atop of the Eiffel tower in the city of romance.
His kissing expertise (Despite having never kissed anyone before her) was just the cherry on top.
Alexander Wang and Kendall Jenner at New York Fashion Week Fall 2015.
Kendall balanced the long silhouette with a tight scooped-back crop top. And instead of finishing her ensemble with an expected pair of heels, she met the hemline of her skirt with thigh-high boots, revealing not an inch of skin.