"the moth's apprentice" chat noir x y/n

Please

Chat Blanc's POV 

Wicked and sinful. Coveted and curated expressions and emotions — coded into my brain, needle pointed into my soul.

I was a masterpiece of broken dreams and lost thoughts. I was nothing, yet I was everything. That was how I felt about Y/N. She was effortlessly strong -- braver than I could've ever been. With every endeavour I'd thrown at her -- all my efforts to push her away, she'd met them with adroitness, pushing her way past my boundaries in a way that scared me yet made me more comfortable than ever.

I loved her, as Adrien, I loved her. As Chat Noir I loved her. But now, I couldn't love anything. I was flying on this plane of emotion that I couldn't feel. It was like remembering the melody to the song but forgetting the lyrics. Like reading a poem without rhymes.

"Any means necessary?" Y/N repeated my words. I could see the wheels in her brain turning, winding like a steering wheel. "Are you sure?" she raised an eyebrow, her eyelashes fluttering a few times.

"I make the rules," I curled my finger underneath her chin, my lips spreading into a slow smile. I cautiously leaned forward so that our lips were almost touching. "Sign your name on the x and let's begin."

Y/N rolled her eyes at my theatrics, her expression of sureness unwavering and curious. Being with Y/N was serendipitous and fraught. Nothing we did here would ever end well, or solve our problem of the apocalypse that I brought about.

"I've signed," she played along for once, surprising me out of my thoughts. "I've dotted my i's and crossed my t's --" she grinned. "you're free to do whatever you please."

"Speaking in rhymes, are we?" I mused. Such passion and animosity had never merged so strongly before. "You're catching on well."

Y/N's fingertips found my spine and she traced her index up the length of the bone, making me twitch. "I won't lose," the look of determination on her face countered any feelings of unease I'd carried. 

Perhaps she would save me. Perhaps my greatest weakness could become my greatest strength.

Once again, Y/N distracted me with her fingers, clicking her tongue with disappointment as they met the smooth fabric of my suit--this time in an entirely different place. My thoughts completely turned into an ocean of nothing as she applied the slightest bit of pressure.

"It's unfortunate that you're wearing..." she pressed harder. "such a tight suit."

I exhaled a long breath I didn't know I was holding, biting back the pleasure that was spiraling up my entire body in waves. 

"Unfortunate that you're not," I trailed off, removing her hand and lifting her by the waist onto the table. I slid my hands up the back of her shirt, slowly letting them linger around her rib cage. "You're just so..." 

Y/N seemed unfazed, though I could hear her heartbeat in the absence of noise. "So, what?" She asked softly. 

"So...real," my words didn't even break the surface of what made sense and what didn't — but they felt right in a way I couldn't explain. "You're real." I repeated them. I realized that she wasn't going anywhere. She wouldn't disappear, and she wasn't a figment of the emotions I wasn't supposed to feel. 

Y/N seemed to grasp what I was saying. She took a breath, her mood shifting slightly and her cheeks turned their normal colour as opposed to beet red. 

".... Adrien," it didn't even bother me when my real name left her lips. I just sunk into her embrace, resting my head on her shoulder. "I'm real." She echoed. "I'm real and I'm not giving up on you." 

My chest heaved in non-audible sobs and I kept my arms locked tight around her. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. Everything that happened was my fault." 

When I finally pulled back, it was like something inside me was reset. It wasn't healed, but shifted, as if bricks had been removed and plaster put in their place.. I was still Chat Blanc, but my thoughts were clearer and less muddied with the insanity that Akuma's brought. 

I wasn't me, but I was closer to it than I'd been the entire time in the apocalypse. 

The kiss that followed was less full of tangible lust and more built off of an understanding. A broken waltz that two doomed dancers are forced to perform.

Y/N's arms slid around my back and she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer to her. I could feel every point at which our bodies met and wove together, suit on skin — a seamless connection. Her lips parted slightly and it was her sweet breath, her perfect disposition that always left me speechless. 

"You could never truly love her," a voice in my head muttered. It was deep and threatening, and irrevocably strong. My father's voice. "How could you love anyone? You've never known love yourself." 

And there it was. My greatest fear, capitalized and bold. 

The reason I became akumatized in the first place. Why would anyone love me? 

I pulled away from Y/N, her face changing to confusion. The absence of her skin on mine burned and I desperate wanted it back. 

"I—" I stammered slightly, looking down at the white fabric I was encased in. Trapped. "I — can't." 

The words tumbled from my mouth — and then they were there. Spilling out into the open, breaking through the sound barrier. Y/N's face was unfathomable, but there was a sincerity that touched her eyes when she nodded. 

As I backed away, she only stared after me. 

"Please....Adrien," she breathed. "Come back to me this time."