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lostuntothisworld · 1 month

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Spaghetti theory time:

The "Luka lying to Ladybug about her secret identity after he was so fired up in Truth only to lie to her in Wishmaker" salt has died down for the most part, but I would like to bring it back up.

I'm gonna do you all a favor and copypasta the transcript below, because I know nobody is going to rewatch the episode.

Marinette: I'm sorry about earlier. There were mosquitoes on the boat, I thought we needed some insect repellent but the drug store was closed so I had to- Luka: Shh, listen, the song of the water. If you listen carefully at this very spot under the bridge, you'll hear a melody. (They listen to the river and smile at each other.) You know, I never knew my father and my mom would never bring herself to tell me. So when I just couldn't deal with it all, I would take refuge here and the melody of the water would console me. What about you, Marinette? Where do you go when you disappear? Marinette: Uh- Luka: You tell me, I'll accept it. If you're still in love with Adrien, I'll understand. I won't be jealous you know. Marinette: That's not it, not at all. Luka: Whatever it is, I just want it to be the honest truth. Marinette: The truth, Luka… is the only thing I can't tell you.

Then we get shocked Luka. He get's akumatized/amokized, and the scene continues:

Shadow Moth: Truth, I am Shadow Moth. I'm giving you the power to force people to tell you their most sacred secrets. Luka: (struggling against it) Truth needs to be shared, not taken by force, Shadow Moth! Marinette: (shocked what he just said) Uh! Shadow Moth? No! Luka, please resist, I am so sorry! Shadow Moth: Why should you resist when she doesn't trust you? Luka: Marinette does trust me! Marinette: I do! Of course I do! Shadow Moth: If she trusted you, then she would tell you the truth! (Upon hearing this, Luka becomes shocked, so he kneels.) Accept my power and you will know everything. And all I ask of you in return is to expose Ladybug and Cat Noir's little secrets. Luka: (succumbing) Run, Marinette!

...

Luka does NOT want to force the truth out of Marinette. He tells her to run! And it's very much implied it triggered a traumatic past when his mother wouldn't tell him who his father was. What if his mom used the exact phrasing of "The truth is the one thing I can't tell you," when things got bad? If there's one thing Miraculous is good at is shocking the audience with traumatic backstories. I have my own theories as to what Luka and Juleka's traumatic backstories are... And are we really going to victim blame Luka for not being able to resist, especially when resisting Gabemoth and breaking akumatization was not actually known to be something that can be done at this point? Onto Wishmaker:

Lots of people are upset that Luka lied to Marinette at the end of Wishmaker with regards to hers and Chat's secret identities. They want Marinette to be angry with him, and for Luka to face consequences. Lying is supposed to be bad, isn't it? And Luka got akumatized into a villain who was dead set on finding the Truth, and he just lied to her about it. Inexcusable! Which is a valid interpretation if you take it at face value.

Now let's fast forward to Migration, and a little theory I've had since the episode aired: Secret identities and masks are a metaphor for being queer. Let me explain the metaphor in more detail: by rewinding back to Wishmaker and the metaphor presented to us then.

In Wishmaker, child Alec was bullied for his big hair, which he was very proud of. So he shaved it all off to fit in with what society wanted him to be. His akumatized form had a bald cap, and in the end Alec decides to "live his truth," (Astruc's words not mine), and essentially wear a big wig and become a drag queen. Iconic.

Oh yeah, and his nightmare in the season 5 finale was his father shaving off his hair.

Gonna have to link this shitpost here, just for an interesting comparison.

(It's interesting to note that both Griffe Noire and alternate Adrien have partially shaved heads, and should be included closer to the bald end of the chart in the shitpost)

Anyway, it's a bit of an unwritten rule that you don't out another person, even if you know they are queer. You have to wait for them to come to you with this reveal. It's sensitive information, and could potentially be extremely dangerous for the person being outed. A similar parallel to being a superhero with a secret identity.

Using this logic, it's not surprising the animators made Chat surprised when Luka detransformed in front of him in Ephemeral even tho he had a front row seat to Luka in Miracle Queen.

Onto the next scene of interest:

Marinette: If I tell you, things will never be the same between us again. (shakes her head) It'll mess up everything, maybe even destroy it. Alya:(voice breaking) Marinette, I'm your very best friend. Marinette: And I… I'm Ladybug.

I was actually shocked with this scene back the first time I watched it. Yes, the reveal, but also how everything in it is presented. To the dialogue, to Marinette's reasonings and how it'll mess up everything between the girls, and how everything will change and be destroyed, to Alya's oddly somber reaction to finding out her favorite superhero is her best friend, and then the subsequent hug.

It's framed as a coming out scene.

So let's circle back to Luka lying to Ladybug back in Wishmaker, and keeping that secret until Migration. His choices there make a whole lot more sense with a queer lens.

Don't believe me? Remember, Migration (the episode where Luka's lies and secrets are brought to light), is the episode that Luka shoves Adrien in a closet and he falls out of the closet as Chat Noir.

Those bedroom eyes at Luka sure do make a whole lot more sense here.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #luka couffaine #miraculous ladybug theory #ml theory #I can't believe Lukadrien and Marigami is endgame #marigami #lukadrien #viperion

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emilio-the-dumb-wrestler · 1 year

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Griff took a picture of himself in the mirror. “Yeah that’s what I’m talking about !” He said as he loaded it to his Instagram. Griff loved to show off his body. He worked hard for it after all. All those years he was over weight and now he was fit after spending 7 days a week in a gym and under a strict diet. Griff packed up his gym bag and left gym365. He was walking out to his car when he got his first like on his photo. Looking at his phone he seen the little heart icon flicker and then a message pop up. When he was in his car he seen the message. “Looking good there! “. He chuckled. “Thanks bro! I’m looking really good today”. He put his car in gear and headed home right after hitting send. When he got home there was another message. “Yeah you are! You’d look even better if you just let yourself be who you are naturally though 😛”. What the hell did that mean ? He didn’t know what to say about that. He went to the bathroom and stripped. Getting his razor he started to trim his body hair. Griff couldn’t stand body hair. He preferred to be clean shaven all the time. Minus a little fuzz on the face. His phone chimes again. “Seriously. You should be yourself. Body hair and all! I bet you have a lot of that !” Griff didn’t know what to say. “Yeah. I don’t like it that’s why I shave it every day”. Before he even had a chance to respond. Another message came up. “How’s about we play a game. Well it’s more of an agreement really. I will make an offer. And if you agree. I’ll pay you for it. But each agreement stands as is. And can’t be changed. Deal?” Griff didn’t even know what to say. Agree to stuff and get money ? He did have loans and other bills he had to pay. Why not ? He could always use the money. And plus he would have to agree to the stuff in order to get paid. And if it’s too weird he will always just say no. “Alright deal. I can deal with some extra cash”. He waited for a reply. But one didn’t come. He put his phone in his pocket and we to get a shot of tequila. His phone rang for a message. “Alright great! So for 100 dollars you should have a couple drinks tonight. Let loose !” “Deal!” Griff said he was already going for another shot of tequila. Before he knew it he made $600. Each time surprised when he got a notification that his cash app has money deposited to it. The room was spinning and he went to text a friend. Telling them about this guy paying him money. “Yes!!” Was the response he sent when his friend messaged back asking if he was serious about this. His vision was blurring. And he was in the middle of sending a 😂 emoji when his phone dropped. More buzzing coming from his Instagram app. The next day Griff woke up around noon. He had fallen off the couch during the night of being passed out drunk. The screen of his phone cracked from where he landed on it. He managed to get up with great effort. The room was spinning. He grabbed his phone and put it in his pocket as he staggered to the bathroom. Blurry eyes. When he got to the bathroom I. The dark he ran some water. Splashed it on his face. And that’s when he felt it. Something wrong. He had small stubble before. But now it felt like a full on beard ! He turned the light on and looked in the mirror. And was shocked. “Whaaaaaat…”. He began to shout when he heard his phone buzz. His friend has messaged him. Asking if he was serious but his response wasn’t there. Instead his Instagram app buzzed again. Pulled it up he was shocked. He replied to a message that he meant to send to his friend. “I’ll continue to pay you if you let me have free reign over choices, life style habits…. In all just to have control”. And right below Griff responded “yes!” He looked at the mirror and seen his bearded face. The next message said “good deal. You will now have a full beard always”. “You have no done cardio EVER”. “You do not shave your body hair ever!” “You tan easily and get dark almost instantly in the sun” reading this Griff panicked.

He realized then that his hands and face were much darker than before. He took off his shirt. Body hair everywhere. Back. Torso. Shoulder. Everywhere he looked there was hair. His phone chimes again “you have nipple rings”. Pain caught his attention for a brief moment while both is his nipples were instantly pierced. Making them plump and sensitive. “Why are you doing ! Stop this please !” He sent. “A deal is a deal. And you agreed to this. You lift weights a lot and it shows”. His arms and chest began to bulk up his muscle. His abs getting firm. “Please no! This was an accident !” But the man didn’t pay attention to Griff. “You have an overpowering labido too. You’re always horny”. Griff almost collapsed in the bathroom as if felt like he was punched in the groin as he got instant blue ball. Dripping sex in his shorts. “You’re 100% Hispanic. Barely able to understand me”. Griffs mind rewrote itself. As his dna changed. He was joe fully Hispanic. Spanish his primary language and he only understood broken English. “Por favor!” He sent a message. “You’re a thick man now. No cardio and eating like a pig does that. At least the weight help firm that fat up!” His abs shook and instantly disappeared under a thick form layer of fat. His gut protruded into a firm jock gut. His pecs sagged slightly. But still firm from all the workouts he did. “You smell like a dirty gym sock even after showers !” Griffs nose instantly burned from the smell of Bo. A thick gold chain appeared his neck from the next message. “Alright. And your final payment. This will leave you at about 100k dollars. You’re my dumb Hispanic bear pool boy. Always wearing something skinny while your bear body is on show for everyone to see. A stinking Hispanic pool boy.” Everything around Griff changed. He was sitting at a pool side. His hairy legs and feet in the water. The smell of Bo and chlorine filling his nose. While his jock gut rest on his legs. He was so horny he couldn’t think straight. And the man walking toward him had a big grin on his face.

@willwritesagain

November 17th, 2021 10:17pm

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aidanchaser · 5 months

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A Mari/Griffe remix of Partners in Clown by @miabrown007

And with that, my participation in the @mlsquaredance 2023 event comes to an end! This is my final remix! Thank you again @ladyofthenoodle for organizing and for encouraging this little brain worm. Thank you @wield-the-mighty-pen for beta reading!

And without further ado, enjoy some angsty teens flirting badly.

Read below or read on Ao3.

Adrien leaned towards his reflection and tilted his head to get a better look at his neck and jawline, the way a young man might search for a sign of his beard growing in. Instead, jagged lines like lightning spread out of his chest and climbed up his throat. He had grown used to the sharp black lines and had taken to wearing turtlenecks to hide them, but the claw-like cracks that spread out onto his cheek were new. He thought it all looked rather cool. He certainly wasn’t scared of what it might mean, not in the least.

But Adrien was a liar, especially to himself.

He poked curiously at the black wound centered over his heart. A sharp ache pulsed in time with his heartbeat. The pain, however, wasn’t the thing he was concerned about. Adrien reached for his bottle of concealer.

He finished hiding the marks on his jaw and cheeks then smeared foundation and matte powder over his marred face. He was putting the finishing touches on his heavy eye makeup when he heard his bedroom door open.

Of course his father didn’t knock. Gabriel never knocked.

“Adrien!”

Adrien immediately thrust his shoulder against the bathroom door. Had he been dressed, he might have kept Gabriel out just to be a nuisance, but he certainly didn’t want his father to see him like this.

“Adrien, open this door.”

Gabriel tried to yank the door open, but Adrien held it closed firmly from the inside. His father gave up, as he always did, with a heavy sigh.

“I only wanted to remind you to stay in your room tonight. It’s for your own safety.”

Gabriel had already texted him this—twice—but Adrien hadn’t replied to the texts, and he didn’t bother to reply now. He could lie easily and promise to stay inside. It wasn’t the lie Adrien had a problem with; it was the talking to his father that he took issue with.

Adrien hadn’t exchanged more than three words with Gabriel since his mother’s funeral. Not since Adrien had dared to stand at his mother’s coffin and say, “But couldn’t the Supreme—” and Gabriel had cut him off with, “Don’t speak.”

So Adrien had stopped. What was there to say, anyway? The only thing Gabriel ever wanted to hear was, “Yes, Father.”

Gabriel tried to pull the door open one more time, but Adrien kept it firmly closed.

“Just stay in here tonight, please,” Gabriel finally said with a sigh weighted with defeat.

Adrien listened to his father’s footsteps fall away and waited until he heard the familiar click of his bedroom door’s deadbolt, sealing him inside.

Adrien used a hand towel to cover his face as he pulled the turtleneck over his head, an old trick he’d learned on set—not that he was ever on set these days. Once upon a time, he and his mother had frequently visited the shooting locations for Gabriel’s designs. His mother had even modeled once or twice, and Adrien had been allowed to attend shoots with her. Even though he had never been allowed to model himself, he had enjoyed watching his mother work. Now, Adrien was lucky if he was allowed into his own dining room.

He double-checked his appearance to confirm that any sign of the cracks in his skin had been covered and that the edges of his eyeliner were as crisp as when he had applied it. He thought about fixing his hair, but that didn’t matter too much. No one was going to see it.

Adrien was going out, but not as Adrien.

Gabriel had a good reason to keep Adrien locked in his room tonight. There would be people visiting, people whom Adrien was not supposed to know. The fashion designer and recluse, Gabriel Agreste, was hosting a competition to find his next new designer and his next season’s iconic model. Designs and headshots had been submitted, and tonight, Gabriel was supposed to announce the winners.

There were always concerns that something celebratory might spark Hesperia’s interest, so the Supreme had asked Griffe Noire to crash the event in order to keep the chaos and tension high. And, if possible, chase any purple butterflies back into their holes.

That was fine with Adrien. He probably would have done it anyway.

When Griffe Noire arrived at the event—it was merely a leap out window with the loose catch and a short slink across the lighting rig strung up over the stage in the Agreste Manor garden—he found that there was already plenty of tension and chaos present. He could practically taste it in the air.

Modeling culture’s competitive nature didn’t exactly induce a pleasant, warm atmosphere. Still, there was plenty of room for him to cause trouble.

The miraculous themselves were supposed to be secret, so he kept his destructions small: crumbling the leg of a chair so that when someone sat down, it collapsed beneath them; brushing his Cataclysm against a portrait wall of the model contestants, leaving their faces half-eaten with rot; catching his claws against a blazer; plucking a hole in an elbow or waistline. His chest burned with each tiny Cataclysm, but he didn’t mind. If anything, it made him feel alive in a way few other things did.

As he approached the food table, wondering just how many gowns he could manage to stain with a single bowl of punch, the sight of a girl with a familiar pink streak in her bangs stopped him in his tracks. Though her dark hair was pulled up into a bun instead of tied back in her usual pigtails, her makeup was still just as heavy. For the event, her smudged eyeshadow flared with bright pink and blue. Her dress was black, but the tulle over her skirt was a vibrant pink, and roses of fuschia sequins spiraled over the black bodice. The square neckline fell on top of a dense black mesh that climbed her throat and covered her arms. Griffe Noir’s insides did a full somersault, and he practically skidded to a stop.

He didn’t know her name, didn’t know how to get her attention, but he knew he had to talk to her. He might not have another chance. Every other time he had seen her had merely been an opportunity to stare at her, him sealed away in his car and her encased in her bakery.

He plucked a cupcake from the stand and proffered it to her with a low purr. “A sweet treat for the purr-incess?”

Her shoulders drew up tight as she turned to look at him and, before she even quite saw him, she smacked the cupcake from his hand. Her blue eyes stared at him with a combination of fury and disdain, a look he was fairly familiar with on his partner. He didn’t like seeing it on this baker anymore than he enjoyed it on Toxinelle.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a tight voice.

It was the first time he had ever heard her speak. He wondered if she always sounded so nervous.

“Making trouble,” he grinned and reached for another cupcake. “Are these yours?” As he peeled off the paper and took a bite, the lavender frosting smeared across his nose.

“I don’t own the cupcake table, you stupid cat,” she grumbled and folded her arms over her chest.

“You didn’t make these?” He swallowed the last of the cupcake and reached for another.

“No. And I don’t even think you’re supposed to eat them.”

“No?”

“It’s a fashion event. No one actually eats at these things.”

Griffe Noire hummed thoughtfully. “Who told you that?”

“Do you see anyone else eating?”

She had a point. The plates and napkins sat untouched. No one gathered near the punch; only a few guests bothered with water. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that models would prefer to feast on the scent of food rather than its substance, but he didn’t know how anyone could ignore these sweets. He checked the cupcake wrapper and sure enough, her bakery’s logo was embedded into it.

He leaned against the table. It creaked under his weight, but didn’t collapse. He could Cataclysm a leg and make a bit more trouble for the event, but the girl next to him looked so intent on avoiding attention. He didn’t want to make it worse for her.

He took another bite of the cupcake and through a mouthful of cake and frosting said, “So you do modeling, too?”

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Are you insane? I entered the design portion of the contest.” And then she bit down on her fuschia-stained lips and turned away, as if she hadn’t meant to confess that much.

“Did you design your dress?”

Though she didn’t answer, he could guess by the way her shoulders tightened up and curled in on herself like she was trying to hide her dress, that he had hit the mark.

“It looks nice,” he said, then immediately bit down on his tongue. He wasn’t supposed to be sincere. He’d had enough warnings from the Supreme about letting his Cataclysm out of control. The last thing he needed was to be scolded for being nice to people. “You know, for—pink,” he finished lamely.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “You still have frosting on your nose,” she said.

He swiped at it with his thumb, but it only smeared over his cheek.

“You stupid cat,” she grumbled. She took a napkin and wet it with the condensation that clung to the base of the punch bowl.

His heart went perfectly still as she stepped closer to him. She smelled like sugar and fresh bread, just like that first whiff each time he opened the pastry bag. The bakery was the closest he ever came to the outside world as Adrien. How could he have done anything less than fall in love with her?

But he couldn’t risk her smudging through his layers of concealer. When he ducked out of her reach, she balled up the sopping napkin and threw it at his face.

“Oh, come on,” he complained as it fell short of its mark and struck his shoulder. With a grin, he swiped his finger through the frosting of a cupcake and smeared it over her cheek.

“Hey!” she protested and tried to push him away, but he grabbed her arm.

“But now we match,” he grinned. “Partners in chaos.”

“We are not partners,” she hissed with a rather venomous ferocity.

He gave her an insincere pout, hoping that the true hurt in his chest was masked appropriately. “So fur-ocious, princess. What did I do to deserve such bite?”

But before she could answer, a familiar shrill voice cut through their conversation.

“Is that Dupain-Cheng?”

The girl in front of him went so stiff, it was as if Chloé’s loud sneer had sliced its way up her spine with a force that made even Griffe Noire’s heart lurch.

And then she disappeared. She was in front of Griffe Noire one moment and gone the next, vanishing through his fingers like smoke. Chloé stalked up to him and looked around with a sneer on her face.

“Where did that girl go?”

Griffe Noire turned behind him, but he saw no sign of the baker and designer. “I think she took a dive into the punch bowl. Care for a swim, Queen Bee?”

Chloé didn’t like that. Her sneer turned to a snarl and she shoved him back into the table. It was bold of her to pick a fight with him, but he was glad she did. He was itching for a real fight. It was a shame Toxinelle wasn’t here to antagonize as well.

“Too soon?” He picked up a cupcake and peeled the paper wrapping back with his claws. “Don’t worry; I think only half the world thought Chloé Bourgeois’s dip in the Seine was funny. The other half probably doesn’t think about you enough to care.”

She drew her hand back to slap him, but he was ready. He ducked beneath her hand and shoved the cupcake into her face. He hissed, “Cataclysm,” and his power crackled in his other hand. He crouched to swipe low—obliterating one heel was the funniest, most irritating thing he could think to do to Chloé—but something tugged on his tail and he froze.

Chloé didn’t seem to notice. She stepped away from him, face burning with fury but eyes trained warily on his Cataclysm. She was familiar enough with his brand of power. He’d never used it on her actual body, but he’d used it on enough of her accessories that she’d learned to fear it.

She tried to wipe the cupcake from her face, but only managed to smear her makeup and the frosting further. “You stupid cat,” she shrieked, voice on the edge of tears. “I’m going to tell Daddy, and he’s going to tell the Supreme, and—”

“And what? You think the Supreme will just give you back your miraculous? After you let Hesperia get one of his moths into it?”

Chloé shoved him backwards again, no longer concerned by the black power crackling in his hand. This time, when he hit the table, he felt certain he heard a muffled yelp from beneath it.

Chloé didn’t seem to hear it, though. She stalked off and, to Griffe Noire’s satisfaction, snapped a heel as she crossed the lawn. Her scream of frustration echoed across the manor grounds.

He dismissed his Cataclysm and the burning in his chest dimmed. There was another tug on his belt and this time, he followed its source to beneath the table, where he found the baker, crouched with an arm around her knees, glowering at him.

“She’ll be worse now because of that,” she grumbled.

“So I take it you know Chloé Bourgeois,” he said.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Then why didn’t you let me Cataclysm her? She deserves it.”

She let go of his tail and looked away. Something shimmered in her blue eyes, but even with his night vision, it was hard to make sense of.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” she whispered.

“That’s kind of the point, isn't it?”

“I mean, doesn’t it hurt you?”

For Adrien, the answer was unchanged. But instead, he lied. “No.”

She frowned at him and suddenly, he felt seen in a way he never had been before. Even his father’s ever-perceptive assistant didn’t pause to examine Adrien’s lies. Something tugged in his chest, like a line had been pulled taut between him and the baker girl. Suddenly, he didn’t remember how to breathe.

“You’re a terrible partner in chaos,” he finally said in an effort to undo whatever had just been done, “leaving me to face Chloé alone. We could have done a real number on her together.”

It worked, though it hurt his heart in a fully different way to see her curl back in on herself. She was no longer looking at him, no longer looking through him. He felt like he’d just stepped out of a warm bath and into cold air.

“I can’t stand up to Chloé,” she murmured into the tulle bunched over her knees.

“You stand up to me,” he said.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am the smartest, funniest person in this entire house at the moment, I’ll have you know. I’m the best at absolutely everything.” He paused to consider her, then added, “Though I suppose I may not be the best fashion designer here.”

“Gabriel Agreste literally lives here.”

“Gabriel Agreste sucks like a supernova gone dark. I wasn’t talking about him.”

She frowned again, and it occurred to him that he didn’t like it when she frowned. It hurt somewhere near where his Cataclysm burned in his chest, but like a dull, persistent ache rather than a sharp, throbbing pulse.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she said. “You don’t even know me.”

Though she was technically right, he didn’t know her in any real sense, he certainly felt like he did. He felt like he knew the draw of her shoulders and the pout of her lip. He felt like he knew the way she tied a scarf around her throat to bury herself, the same way he was constantly burying himself, like maybe if he died enough times, his father might miss him, too.

“I’m not nice,” he snapped. “I smeared frosting on your face.”

“You still have frosting on your face too, doux minou.” She reached out and swiped her finger against his nose.

He grabbed her wrist as she touched him, heart pounding from the contact between them, from the strangely delicate affection in the nickname he had never heard before.

Her eyes were wide, too, like she hadn’t heard it until after she had said it. That line between them pulled taut once more and his breath hung suspended in his chest. Griffe Noire was so terrified of what it might become that he knew his only choice was to unravel it now.

He pulled her hand down to his lips and licked the frosting off of her finger.

She went very still but didn’t try to pull away. He wondered if that was because she could feel the press of his ring against her wrist and knew how easy it would be for him to summon his Cataclysm against her, or if it was because she genuinely did not mind.

He leaned in closer, and still she did not move. She had stood her ground against him all night, had stopped him from using his Cataclysm against Chloé, and had dared to ask if using his Cataclysm was dangerous to him. He didn’t see why she wouldn’t back away now if this wasn’t what she wanted.

He got close enough that her knees dug into his chest. His lips hovered over hers. He tasted fresh mint on her breath, cool and inviting. Could taste the sugar on his, too?

But instead of closing the space between them with a kiss, he tipped his head and licked the frosting off of her cheek. He murmured into her ear, “Still think I’m a sweet kitty?”

She both pushed him away and scrambled backwards in a single flurry of motion. Beneath her makeup, he could see a blush rising in her cheeks and her chest rising and falling in a new rhythm.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Why did I do what?”

Her shock turned into a glare and this time, he was prepared for the ache in his chest. He braced himself against it the way he braced against his Cataclysm. He relished it the way he relished his Cataclysm.

But instead of folding in on herself the way she had all night, she crawled closer to him. She leaned in, just as he had done to her. His lungs filled with her cool breath once again and a shiver curled down his spine and coiled itself in his stomach.

Her hand reached for his chin and pain lanced through the growing wound buried beneath his makeup. She brushed her fingers along the smeared crystals of sugar along his cheek, wiping them away, then drew her hand back to her own lips, licking the sweet off of her own fingers.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he realized that she was teasing him, that the glare in her cool blue eyes was revenge as much as it was anger.

Her fingers slid carefully through the spikes around the bell at his throat, like a gardner used to working with thorns. She yanked him towards her until their lips were separated only by a breath. “I never liked sweets much anyway,” she murmured, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was too short for Griffe Noire’s tastes. She pressed her lips to his and the moment he leaned into it, the moment he pushed his tongue against her, she dragged her mouth up his cheek and to his ear. He wanted to chase her, to follow her taste, but she held him firmly in place.

“You don’t have a monopoly on chaos, minou,” she whispered, then let him go.

He blinked, and once again, she disappeared. He tried to go after her, but all the dexterity and wit that normally pulsed through him seemed slow and sluggish. He struggled to crawl out from under the table and back onto his feet, and by the time he finally did, she was gone.

He ran his hand through his hair and tried his best to keep his breathing even. He slipped through the crowd, past models and designers and socialites, past displays and vendors, but she was nowhere to be found. Desperation grew in his chest and seemed to eat away everything else.

He wanted her. He wanted her more than he wanted anything else.

He glanced down at the ring on his finger and knew, whether it would upset the Supreme or not, he wasn’t going to use his power for the rest of the evening. For the first time in a long time he wanted something other than his own destruction. For the first time in a long time, it felt like living was chaotic enough.

#marigriffe #marichat #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ml fic #miraculous square dance 2023 #reverse paris special #griffe noire #claw noire

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