filles noires

Lady: “Chat oh my gosh I have a project due tomorrow -”

Chat: “project – proj-


– oh n o”

Lady: we’re both screwed aren’t we chaton,,, we’re both screwed"

Things go down when Chat Noire meets Chat Noir (sin)

dedicated to @rinrynren for reminding me of this ridiculous au

8

Kid Chat AU PART 2 (Ladybug and Chat Noir fight an akuma that turns people into kids and Chat Noir got turned into one)

Is it poor Chat? Or poor Ladybug? Ahhh… I had fun drawing this

Kid Chat AU PART 1 / Youtube comic dub by PinkSkulz1911 aka @ladybugs-and-black-cats

Little Ladybug AU

Ladybug: I think Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth.

Chat Noir: Do you have proof?

Ladybug: He’s an eccentric artist who never leaves his house.

Chat Noir: Maybe he doesn’t like people. Maybe he’s concentrating on his craft!

Ladybug: The logo for his company is a butterfly.

Chat Noir: Maybe he likes butterflies. Is that a crime now?

Ladybug: I looked into his house and he has a room just filled with butterflies.

Chat Noir: So a man can’t have a hobby?

Ladybug: I saw him dramatically descend through the floor into said room and transform using a kwami.

Chat Noir: … Halloween is coming up! He was probably trying out his costume. See, nothing to worry about!

anonymous asked:

Could you write adrienette (or some variation of the love square) with number 75?

~I’m weak for Marichat, so that’s the love square corner we get.~Tay

“Don’t you dare bite me, I’m mad at you!” 899 words

If you asked either Marinette or Chat Noir how it even started, neither would know what to tell you.

Neither would be able to tell when Chat’s occasional visits turned into frequent ones, or when the jokes about him being a stray cat turned into him acting like one when he was around Marinette, but soon, late night cookies and conversation turned into scratches behind Chat’s ears and him nuzzling beneath Marinette’s chin.

“Are you always this touchy—like tactile?” She’s asked one night. They were sitting on the floor of her bedroom, the light of her lamp turning the room orange. “I mean, even when you aren’t Chat Noir?” He thought for a long while before answering.

“No, but I don’t know if the difference has to do with me outside the mask, or with Chat, or if it’s some combination of the two. It’s not that I don’t like touch when I’m not Chat, it’s just… different, I guess? I mean, there’s not many people to get touch from.  Home is… I mean, I have my friends at school, but even that is pretty minimal. I think it’s why I like being around you so much. You fit my level of tactile.” He threw her a smile and she contemplated him for a moment before reaching out and scratching his ears.

“Silly kitty, just looking for scratches.”

“Especially if they come from you, Princess.” He leaned into her hand, and soon, they were both laying on the floor, Chat’s head on Marinette’s stomach and her fingers gently combing through his hair. They whispered about school and tv and the ladyblog until it was late at night and Chat’s miraculous began to beep. Chat groaned and Marinette giggled.

“Sounds like it’s time for a certain stray cat to make its way home.” Chat groaned, pressing his head into Marinette’s stomach. It startled a laugh out of her. “Chat, that tickles,” she hissed, pushing at his head with one hand. He slung a hand over her hip and refused to move. “Chat,”  she whined. She felt him smile into her belly.

“Yes, Princess?” he purred smugly. She suppressed a giggle.

“Move, you stupid cat, or I’ll have to get you with a water bottle.” He gasped, scandalized.

“You would insult me so? Punishing me like some hand-biting stray?” Marinette snorted around a laugh, and, despite his tone, she could feel Chat’s grin against her pajama shirt.

“Chat, you are some hand biting stray.” He suddenly sat up, and looked down at Marinette, who leaned up on her elbows.

“Princess, you wound me with your words.” He took one of her hands and pulled it to him. He kissed her knuckles gently. “But, if you are to see me as some hand biting stray,” he looked up from her hand to meet her eyes.

“You wouldn’t—"

“I should at least earn the title.” And with that, he bit the back of her hand. Marinette jerked her hand back with a snort of laughter, but pulled it too far, slamming her elbow into the hardwood floor. She groaned, clutching her elbow and rolling onto her side. Chat slapped a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter while Marinette swore at the floor, rubbing her elbow while trying to keep from laughing. Chat swallowed back his giggles, and reached out to Marinette, tugging her up into a seated position.

“Are you okay, Princess?” He asked. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Stupid cat,” she muttered. He smiled.

“Want me to kiss it better?” She laughed.

“I don’t trust your mouth,” she said with a smirk.

“Too clever?”

“Too many teeth.” Chat laughed and pulled her to him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to make you hurt yourself.”

“I really will get you with a spray bottle.”

“I could bite you again, you know,” he threatened. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you dare bite me, I’m mad at you!” He leaned down and nuzzled under her chin.

“Not too mad, I hope.”

“I don’t know; you bit the hand that feeds you cookies. They specifically say not to do that.” Chat fell backwards in a dramatic swoon.

“Had I known that my chocolate chip cookies would be in danger I never would have bit you!” he cried. Marinette laughed and leaned over him.

“Serves you right, using me for free pats and cookies. And this is the thanks I get.”

“Marinette, you do know I appreciate you, right?” He asked, suddenly earnest.

“Oh, Chat of course. I was just joking, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, I know. I just wanted to make sure. I really do love spending time with you.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. They looked at each other in the lamplight for a long minute before—

Beep!

Chat sighed.

“You should get going, Chaton,” Marinette said as she got to her feet, dusting off her pajama pants and offering Chat a hand.

“Why are you always right,” he asked, allowing her to pull him up. They both went out onto the terrace and Chat perched on the railing.

“Good night, Chat Noir.” Marinette said with a small smile.

“Good night, Marinette,” He responded, smiling in kind. He stood up on the railing and gave her a two-fingered salute, before pulling out his staff and bounding away across the city.

anonymous asked:

Okay okay. So. You know that Nath is quite an artist yeah? What if he noticed Chat got a fine booty. Since then he has been drawing that and give it a slap. Just to feel that asssssh. He then noticed Adrien got the same butt. So... He accidentally slapped his booty.

butt: recognized

boys: blushing

headcanon: accepted

10

 - You’re trying to make me go soft. Well you can save it. I don’t go soft for anyone. 

It’s Not That Bad

@cherrybaby143 asked: Can you write about Adrien/Nino with number 15 please?

15 – Is there any part of you that isn’t bruised?

(Yes I can!  Here we go! Featuring Drunk!Adrien, who was fun to write.  Hope you enjoy!)

AO3

In all honesty, Nino should be used to this by now.  It had been six years since he found out his best friend was Chat Noir, five since he found out Marinette was Ladybug.  Logically, he should be used to this.

But Nino didn’t think he’d ever be used to watching Adrien get beat up by a half dozen criminals on television.

The feed was being broadcast live from a civilian who had been watching, and the police hadn’t arrived on scene yet.  So it was just Chat Noir, just Adrien, against six criminals.

Nino felt his heart stop as one pulled out a gun, his screams for Adrien to just turn around bouncing uselessly off the TV.  The shot went off, and he stopped breathing, unable to look away as it pierced his shoulder. The yowl that Adrien let out was as close to that of his namesake as Nino had ever heard, and his distraction was enough to get taken down by the remaining criminals.

The police showed up a few moments later, taking down the criminals as Adrien rose shakily to his feet.

That’s where the broadcast ended.

This was the worst part, if you asked Nino.  Sure, watching him get beat up was pretty bad, but it was the waiting that was the worst, not knowing if he was going to make it back, or if his body was going to be found in an alley somewhere.  If it had been Alya filming, she would have ignored the police telling her to turn off her phone.  She would have kept it going, let them know he was okay.

But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know, not yet.

So he busied himself, opening the balcony doors and lying out a towel like he was an actual cat stuck out in a rainstorm rather than an injured superhero.  He filled a plate with cheese because Plagg liked to complain and Nino didn’t feel like dealing with that tonight.  He gathered the first aid supplies, grimacing at the long-engrained memory of Mari teaching all of them on her own arm how to give stitches because the Cure didn’t always heal everything, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to use that knowledge today.  The vodka came, too, in case he did have to use that knowledge, because Adrien preferred to be slightly drunk when he had to be sewn up.

And then he waited.

It was a few minutes before his husband dragged himself over the balcony railing, one hand clenching his shoulder tightly, and collapsed onto the towel.  His transformation was released before Nino could reach him, and Plagg silently dove into the pile of cheese.

“You’re an idiot,” Nino said, hauling Adrien up to lean against the wall.

The blond grimaced at the movement, then offered him a pained smirk.  “But I’m your idiot.”

“That doesn’t mean you can get yourself shot,” Nino insisted, scanning his husband to assess the damage.  His lip was split, one of his eyes was swelling shut, and any exposed skin was covered in cuts and scratches.  His previously white shirt was more red than white, and the blood spread from his shoulder. Nino grabbed a pair of scissors from the first aid kit, cutting it off.

“Jesus, Adrien,” he muttered, staring at his husband’s chest.  “Is there any part of you that isn’t bruised?”

Adrien’s hand had come back up to grip his shoulder.  “Wouldn’t you like to find out,” he muttered weakly, and Nino rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re flirting right now,” he admonished, digging through the kit.  “You’re bleeding out on our bedroom carpet, and you’re flirting with me.”

“It’s not that bad. The bullet came out.”  Right.  Because they were in a place in their lives where being shot and the bullet coming out constituted as “not that bad”.

Nino turned back, pulling Adrien’s hand away and grimacing.  It may be “not that bad”, but it was still definitely going to need some stitches.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” Nino asked.  He asked because he always asked, because he wasn’t a doctor and could make things worse, even if he’d ended up with the best quality stitching of the group, because there was a chance the answer would be different.

But Adrien shook his head, as he always did.  “How would we explain a bullet wound?”

“You could tell everyone you’re Chat Noir,” Nino pointed out, knowing it was futile and that his husband would never agree.  He cleaned off the bullet wound and Adrien let out a hiss.  “Your dad’s been in jail for years, and there hasn’t been any other supervillains.”

“Mari would kill me.” That was the argument it always came down to.  Marinette was still terrified of people finding out she was Ladybug.

“She’s not even in the country right now.  You could be hidden away before she even finds out.”

Adrien barked out a laugh, which was cut short as his husband accidentally pressed too hard.  “Right,” he agreed.  “Because a honeymoon is going to be enough to keep Alya from knowing Chat Noir’s every move.”

Nino laughed, handing over the bottle of vodka.  “She’s probably going to get exclusives from Ladybug every other day.”  He shook his head.  “I honestly don’t know how they haven’t blown it yet.”

“And yet they think we’re the ones who are going to get discovered first.”  Adrien scowled at his shoulder before downing half the bottle in one go.  He took a deep breath and turned away, chugging the rest of the vodka.  Nino was still amazed at the super-drinking powers Adrien and Marinette had, though they both tended to rack up quite the bill when they went out.

He held out a shirt to Adrien, and his husband stuffed it in his mouth.  “Ready?”  Adrien blew his breath out through his nose and closed his good eye before nodding.

It took a few minutes, and more than a few muffled screams and curses, but eventually Adrien was sewn back together and they both collapsed against the wall.

“There’s some more cuts that could probably use stitches,” Nino pointed out.  “Or we could wrap them up and check on them later.  What do you think?”

Adrien spat out the shirt, head lolling towards his husband.  His good eye drooped—from exhaustion?  Pain? Vodka?  Nino didn’t know—and he offered a lopsided smile.  “Mari will fix it,” he said, his voice hoarse.  “We can just cuddle.”

“We can cuddle later,” Nino said.  “I’ve at least got to bandage you.  And Mari can’t fix you.  She’s not here, remember?”

His husband shrugged his good shoulder.  “She can fix me later.”

Nino rolled his eyes, wiping the blood off Adrien’s body and replacing it with bandages.  By the time he finished, Adrien was all but asleep against the wall.

He prodded his good shoulder, and Adrien blinked up wearily at him.  “I’m gonna move you to bed,” Nino told him.  “You good to stand?”

Adrien nodded, and they slowly pulled him to his feet.  He wobbled a bit before crashing into Nino’s chest with a giggle.  Nino always forgot how pain lowered his husband’s alcohol tolerance, and that bottle of vodka had definitely made him at least tipsy by now.

“I love you,” Adrien whispered, pressing sloppy kisses against Nino’s face.

He smiled, pecking him on the lips and pulling him towards the bed.  “I love you, too.”

“No,” Adrien whined, drawing out the syllable.  “You’re supposed to say ‘I know’, like Han Solo.”

Nino helped lower him into bed, raising an eyebrow.  “You want me to be Han Solo?”

Adrien nodded, not releasing Nino until he’d crawled into bed beside him.  “You’d be a hot Han Solo,” he said.  “Like, hotter than trees.”

“Trees?”

“Yeah, like really hot trees.”

Nino laughed, pulling his husband close.  Adrien curled into his chest.  “Does that make you Princess Leia, then?”

“I could rock that bikini.”

Adrien drifted off not long after that, and Nino wasn’t far from it when his phone rang, Marinette’s picture flashing across the screen.  Adrien groaned and cuddled closer as his husband answered.

“Someone submitted the fight to the Ladyblog,” she said, no pleasantries necessary.  “He’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.”

Adrien pulled himself up Nino’s body so their faces were smashed together.  “No, I’m not!” he whined into the phone.  “Come home and fix me, Mari!”

“He’s fine.”  Nino rolled his eyes, switching ears with the phone so he could reassure Marinette before she cut her honeymoon short to come fix her partner.  “He’s just drunk.”

He could practically hear Marinette’s grimace through the phone.  “Ooo.  Stitches?”

“Yeah, and they hurt.” Adrien lifted off his husband enough so Nino could see his lip jutting out.  “Tell her I’m pouting, Nino.  She’ll come fix me if I’m pouting.”

“Sorry, chaton.  I’ve still got the rest of my honeymoon.”

Adrien collapsed back onto Nino, letting out a slight gasp of pain at the sudden movement.  “Tell Mari to go away,” he muttered.  “We’re supposed to be cuddling.”

Nino eyed his husband, who was wrapped around him like a spider monkey, and his own arm that was holding him back. “We are cuddling,” he pointed out, and Marinette giggled from the other end of the phone.

“Mari’s being mean, so she’s not allowed to cuddle,” Adrien insisted, pulling the phone down to his level. “Go cuddle with Alya, not us.”

Marinette laughed.  “Gladly,” she said, and Adrien, satisfied, released Nino’s arm.  “We’ll talk later.  Let me know if anything really bad happens.  Night, Nino. Night, Adrien.”

“Night, Mari.  Tell Alya I said hi.”  Nino hung up, tossing his phone back onto the unoccupied portion of the bed.  He cuddled back down into Adrien, who had let go enough to pout again.

“I didn’t get to say goodnight.”

“Maybe if you yell loud enough she’ll hear,” Nino suggested, tugging the blankets back up to cover them. Adrien seemed to contemplate it for a few moments before shaking his head.

“Maybe later,” he decided, pressing a sleepy kiss against Nino’s lips.  “I love you.”

Adrien curled back against him, and Nino wrapped his arms around his husband.  “I know.”

He felt Adrien grinning against his chest.  “You should be Han Solo for Halloween.”

Nino laughed, running his fingers through Adrien’s hair.  “Only if you wear the bikini.”

It was quiet for a while and Nino thought Adrien had fallen asleep.  He was almost asleep himself when his husband whispered his answer into the darkness.

“Deal.”