Miraculous Ladybug One-Shots

exhale on repeat

Sometimes, Adrien wished he could take it all back. That he could fix every mistake and rectify every stupid decision he'd made.

He could remember every time the light in her eyes had dimmed, every time her hands had curled into fists, every labored breath she had taken, and it all hurt so bad that he thought his chest would collapse in on itself. It never did, but in his darkest moments, he hoped.

He hated that all he could see was the shadow of her smile when he closed his eyes. Her laugh was a distant memory he could only aspire to dip into in his happiest dreams. The constellation of her freckles seemed so far now, and he hated that he couldn't remember exactly how many sunspots littered the rise of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

The feeling of her hair ghosting his fingers was ancient; he clenched his hands and tried so hard to remember what it felt like. This was his fault, wasn't it? He'd been given chance after chance, and he'd chosen wrong every single time.

How?

Was his luck so horrible? His fate so cruel? His mind so scattered? His heart so convoluted and heavy?

But sometimes, he was okay knowing how it all went down.

With every reminder of his senses filled with her, he could breathe and think clearly. Nothing felt completely lost when she graced his mind; with her in his heart, every moment felt like a bath in sunlight too divine to grace anyone on this plane of existence.

On the worst days, he forgot what her voice sounded like.

How sick it was for his mind to play such a dangerous game.

He didn't like to think about it, but it was the only thing that could completely consume his body and mind. His thoughts were always drifting back to her, always lingering on the smatterings of gold in her brilliant eyes and the quirks of her lips when she'd bite back her amusement.

Sometimes, Adrien wished he could take it all back.

At all times, he yearned to feel the pulse in her neck against his lips just one more time.