I have a surprise for you it's called fine line go read it on ao3

Summary:

“Catwalker?” Loveybug asks. “Hmm?” “Do you remember… what happened before us?” “What do you mean?” “Before we were heroes. Was there someone else?” Catwalker goes quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

what if manipulating the miraculous to make a new persona is just, inherently, so draining for the heroes. it's okay for a little while, but keeping it up has consequences. what if loveybug starts napping with catwalker, too. her suit isn't as vibrant, loses its sparkles. she still flirts with catwalker but she isn't quite sure why - just that she's supposed to, right? her pickup lines are lacking, she doesn't giggle the way she used to. she doesn't wear her hair down anymore.

marinette shows up to class more exhausted than ever before. she barely looks up when adrien walks in the room, she doesn't respond to any of alya's teasing or nino's jokes. the only thing she can seem to do is half-hearted flirting with adrien, though all he offers in return is a small smile, like he barely even hears her. he drops his pen. marinette doesn't seem to notice when it lands near her feet.

they both forget things. assignments, deadlines, hangouts with their friends. they sleep through things. they show up to akumas and are shells of themselves - loveybug's flirting has no energy behind it, catwalker is a hollow mask. they get the job done, barely. they sleep after. they don't remember the akuma's name when they wake up.

they both know something is wrong. napping on patrols is wrong (though they maybe only know that because loveybug pointed out an article questioning the behavior). they're not quite sure what to do about it.

catwalker has the feeling he should be trying to help her. he knows he's not in good shape, either. he knows he hurts and he's sad. he's pretty sure that loveybug used to help him with that. he doesn't remember what she did to help him. and neither does she when he asks.

marinette sees her bulletin board above her desk with pictures of events she doesn't remember attending. there's someone, not quite catwalker, who's prevalent. green eyes, blond hair, cat ears, a dorky smile. she's not sure who he is. she's not sure why he left, though she remembers he used to be around all the time. she's pretty sure, though, that if he came back, things would be better. he'd be able to fix her. he'd know what was wrong.

Unlocking the trapdoor took forever, her fingers just kept gliding off, they weren't strong enough anymore. Without her superstrength, she might not have been able to leave at all. As the hinge creaks, her eyes numbly fell onto her suit.

When had her hearts began to fade?

Wasn't love supposed to be the solution to all this?

Hot tears filled her eyes and she couldn't bring herself to do any more than crumble onto the floor. "Tikki," she hoarsely mumbled, lacking the strength to get back up.

Only then, did she realize that she had forgotten to transform back. "Tikki, hearts off." Her voice was barely above a whine, quiet enough that it made her wonder. If at one point, she lacked the energy to say her detransformation plans, would she be stuck like that forever?

(And would it really be so bad?)

(Love was supposed to save her.)

(Loveybug didn't remember why or when she had decided it but it had been back when her mind hadn't been clouded in fog like a weighted blanket, pressing down until all stars vanished from her side. Back then, she had been smarter. So she must have been right.)

"Marinette," the kwami pleaded.

Oh right. I have a name. It was easy to forget. After all, Marinette wasn't loved. Not in the way she longed to be.

Marinette could have sworn that Tikki didn't use to be pink. She looked bleached out, washed away. "This isn't healthy," the kwami mattered and Marinette shrugged weakly.

"It'll have to do." Her voice hurt. "School is about to start. Alya will be there."

But the idea of getting back up to rummage through the closet and put on real clothes just seemed so draining. Loveybug didn't have heart-shaped clothes and were flowers and pink cute enough? (Would Catwalker like them? Would he blush if he saw her as a civilian, hair unkempt and her eyes circled black from the last time she had worn makeup without the energy to remove it?)

No.

He wouldn't.

Loveybug didn't think he'd exactly mind it either but she wanted to look pretty for him. Even if she didn't have to.

"Marinette," Tikki reminded her, more insistent and it took Loveybug a second to reconcile that name with her identity.

But before she could answer, a crashing sound tore through the morning. Another akuma. What was the point in fighting them if another would show up mere hours later?

But at least she'd get to see Catwalker.

The thought put a smile on Loveybug's face and she sighed as she thought about his awkward smile, drunk on magenta shades of love. She wanted to dance in the sky with him, twirl around clouds and lean closer to inhale his body warmth. She wanted to hold his hand, without the suit. She wanted to paint his nails and mumble loving melodies as he talked about taking the day off work so that they could get a hamster.

And they'd call it-

"Marinette!" Tikki sounded frantic now, as she called out the vaguely familiar name and Loveybug got up at once, energy suddenly back. She swayed a little, black spots forming in front of her eyes. But that was okay, seeing through rose-colored lenses left her disoriented anyway.

"Hearts on," she yelled out but her momentary motivation faded as she saw her heartshaped spots. They were almost the color of her suit by now.

"Paris can wait," she decided, walking up to Marietta's desk. Grabbing a pink sharphie, she sat down. Loveywalker took of the lid and it fell down with a clink. She didn't bother picking it up. Sticking her tongue out, she began coloring in the hearts. They looked wonky and messy and accidentally touching them left magenta stripes on her suit that would have looked like blood, had they only been red.

(She only stopped when the sharpie refused to draw anymore. When she swung outside, Paris was unrecognizable. Water was swallowing the ground and houses were breaking in. But it was okay. She would reverse the damage anyway.)

(Catwalker looked at beautiful as ever. She threw herself into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly because as long as she had time, it was all worth it. She was nothing without him. Ladywhatever had thought so after all and that version of hers had been smart.)

(He had hugged her back as if his life, too, depended on it. He had looked frail today, hands hurting too much for him to us his staff. Civilian him might need a cane soon, he told her. Funny how that worked. Civilian her was fainting so often these days that Mariella's parents had brought up a wheel chair. Not that she needed one. She could just stay in her suit.)

The battle had taken long and after returning to that girl's room, Loveybug had forgotten how they had defeated the akuma. Had she remembered to throw her lucky charm? Or just left it there, somewhere?

But she was too tired to retrieve it and so it didn't matter.

"Hearts off." She was proud of herself for remembering.

Falling onto the floor, she easily discarded the idea of laying down on her bed. The floor was confortable enough.

"Marinette, this can't go on."

The voice felt faraway.

"Marinette?"

Fog filled her mind. The sky was empty, no stars, no moon.

"Marinette?"

———

At first, it’s a trembling here and a trembling there. At first, Adrien thinks it’s nothing. At first, no one notices—no one mentions it—no one thinks anything of it.

But then he’s missing notes (his fingers falling too hard onto the wrong keys, his fingers not coming down from the sky; and in those empty spaces, his fingers feel so cold). He’s dropping things (a book to the desk, a cookie to the floor, a piece of cheese through the air, his staff, his phone, his hands, his clothes, his expression, everything). Then his joints hurt—first his hands, then his ankles, his knees, his elbows, his hips, his shoulders. He feels things decaying within him—he feels he’s being Cataclysmed from the inside out, with that soft papery whispering of tissues eroding and fading. (He imagines, sometimes, that if he were cracked open right then and there, the doctors would find the whole inside of his being covered in the black dust of his remains.)

Everything he touches hurts—he grabs his blanket from the floor (did he push it off last night? He hadn’t slept well, but—) and even though it is soft, it feels awful along his skin. He picks it up and he feels his skin moving—pressing beneath it, warping to its shape. But when he checks his hands, they’re fine. A little thin, a little pale, a little ashy, but they’re fine. They’re still there. They’re fine. (He worries, still.)

And Adrien finds himself afraid of so much more, lately. Before, he feared confined spaces, complete darkness, even sometimes the silence, but now—now he fears everything. He fears the day he breathes and his lungs tremble on emptiness, too thin and too clogged with the black ash to try to expand in full; he fears picking things up and having his friends see him falter and drop something so important to the ground where it shatters and the only echo of it is in the shape of his misshapen hands; he fears the day he forgets something so mightily important it hurts those around him and the only thing he can say is I’m so sorry, I forgot. But he thinks he’s most afraid when he transforms. He’s afraid of letting Ladybug down. He’s afraid of not being fast enough and getting Loveybug hurt. He’s afraid of messing up, of letting her see him as he is, of letting go at the wrong moment and of holding on at the worst time. And there’s so much more that he fears, but he can’t… remember it all. At least not in the moment or as things are passing by—his body, instead, tells him: in the way he tenses up, back and spine and neck and shoulders, in the way he clenches his hands around nothing even as they scream in pain, in the way his brain is going run run run but not telling him why.

Adrinette April Day 4 - Passing Notes

i spent a million dog years (3 days) on this why did i do that aNYWAY IM STILL DRAWING THESE!!! WHOOOOO

I love the fact that I already have a drawing of that (which I did in kid pix right before Wishmaker released)

Greetings, honoured guests!

The Agreste household cordially invites you to attend our first annual event celebrating the relationship between Gabriel and Emilie Agreste, and their assistant Nathalie Sancoeur. The event is sponsored by the Sangreste Soirée Discord server and spans the week of Monday July 6th to Sunday July 12th, with July 8th as the official Sangreste Day.

Every format of fan-created content is allowed and can be posted on any platform. Use the official #SangresteWeek2026 hashtag for your post to be seen. Works on Ao3 should be placed under the Sangreste Week 2026 Collection. You may share any content created for this event at your leisure. Thank you @asukiess for the amazing poster!

RULES:

AI-Generated content is not permitted

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NSFW works are welcome and encouraged

Prompts for each day are intended as guidelines; you may choose one, write both, or create your own.

Have fun and spread your feathers!

PROMPTS:

July 6th - Exploration | Body July 7th - Sweet/Bitter | Ring July 8th (Sangreste Day) - Free slot July 9th - Parents | Portrait July 10th - Masks | Service July 11th - Gala | Spotlight July 12th - Promise | Scars