Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world had changed drastically since the arrival of the Sentibeings. They were an almost perfect species at first glance, so similar to humans that it was nearly impossible to tell them apart. However, there was a fundamental difference: the Sentibeings were not considered natural. They were beings born from a fusion of biological energy and magic—an “artificial evolution,” as some called it. They were stronger, longer-lived, with heightened senses and a special connection to their surroundings that humans could never truly grasp.

The coexistence between humans and Sentibeings was a carefully orchestrated charade. Official speeches proclaimed equality, harmony, and mutual progress. But in the shadows of society, the differences burned like a brand. Sentibeings were barred from holding important positions, couldn’t attend the same educational institutions as humans, and—though no one admitted it—inter-species relationships were unthinkable.

To humans, Sentibeings were "others." Different. Dangerous.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had become the youngest minister in her country’s history. To the public, she was a beacon of change, a fresh, progressive figure who had seized the reins of politics with confidence. With her elegant demeanor and flawless smile, it was impossible not to believe her when she spoke of “unity” and “coexistence” in her speeches.

“Inclusion is the key to progress,” she would declare, her blue eyes gleaming under the spotlights. “Sentibeings have a place in our society, just like any other citizen. We must not fear them but seek to understand them.”

Cameras always captured her best angles: poised, serene, a symbol of justice in a world fraught with tension. And the people adored her.

But behind closed doors, away from the public and the press, Marinette thought very differently.

“Understand them… What nonsense,” she would think to herself while poring over reports or reviewing legislation. To her, Sentibeings were abominations, mistakes that should never have existed. Their very presence caused her a physical discomfort she could hardly describe. They were too perfect, too alien, as if pretending to be human when they were anything but. Every time she interacted with one, she fought the urge to sanitize her hands after a polite handshake.

Yet Marinette was shrewd. In a world where image was everything, her disdain could not slip through, not even in the blink of an eye. She had mastered the art of modulating her voice, softening her words, and fixing her smile in place like a mask.

In meetings, she treated Sentibeings with measured courtesy, her tone always polite, her gaze strictly professional. But her policies spoke for her: laws that conveniently hindered inter-species integration, labor restrictions disguised as administrative measures, and speeches that sounded inclusive yet subtly reinforced Sentibeing subordination.

One night, as she gazed out over the city from her office in the government building, Marinette let out a frustrated sigh. Through the glass, the city lights flickered like artificial stars, and in the distant streets below, humans and Sentibeings shared the same space in a fragile and deceptive peace.

“They’ll understand their place one day,” she murmured to herself, barely audible.

The office door creaked open, interrupting her thoughts. An assistant poked her head in.

“Minister Dupain-Cheng, the new advisor is here to introduce himself.”

Marinette smoothed the skirt of her suit and put her mask back on: the young, brilliant, progressive minister everyone admired.

“Send him in.”

The “new” advisor entered with confident strides and a clear, steady voice as he greeted her. He was tall, with tousled golden hair and eyes as green as spring fields. His smile was warm, almost mischievous, and his tone carried an unusual warmth for the rigid political atmosphere.

“Adrien Agreste, it’s a pleasure to work with you, Minister.”

For a moment, Marinette felt her carefully rehearsed demeanor falter. Something about him disarmed her slightly, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. Regaining her composure, she returned his smile, extending her hand for a handshake.

“Welcome, Adrien. I hope you’re ready to work hard.”

Adrien took her hand gently, his fingers warm and smooth, but Marinette felt a faint, inexplicable chill. It was nothing. Surely, it was nothing.

“I always am,” he replied, his gaze seeming to pierce right through her.

And that was how it all began.

Chapter Text

Marinette’s ministerial office had quickly become a shared space with Adrien. Since his arrival, the young advisor always seemed to be nearby: reviewing reports, organizing meetings, or simply accompanying her through endless workdays. Marinette was struck by how efficient he was—Adrien wasn’t just capable; he was brilliant. He was a breath of fresh air in the monotonous and calculated world of politics.

“If I may say so, Minister,” Adrien commented one afternoon with a slight smile as he flipped through a thick file, “your economic plan for rural sectors makes a lot of sense, but it’s missing one thing: Sentibeings also live in those areas.”

Marinette glanced up from the report she was reviewing, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment. That look… Adrien had a way of looking at her that made her feel exposed, as if he could see right through the façade.

“What exactly do you mean?” she replied calmly, though her tone tightened slightly at the mention of Sentibeings.

Adrien leaned an elbow on the desk, his expression so relaxed it bordered on insolent.

“The infrastructure you’re proposing is designed for humans, Minister. But you’re forgetting that Sentibeings also use those roads and services. If you truly want inclusivity, perhaps you should consider how to adapt those proposals for everyone.”

Marinette frowned slightly but didn’t let the discomfort breach her professional demeanor. Adrien’s logic was flawless, but his words irritated her in a way she couldn’t admit.

“That’s a good point,” she finally said, resuming her formal posture. “I’ll have the projections reviewed to account for all… variables.”

Adrien smiled, satisfied, as if he had won something. Marinette pressed her lips together. There was something about him that unsettled her—a strange balance between respect and audacity.

Over the following weeks, their relationship began to shift. Marinette noticed that Adrien was unlike any other advisor she’d worked with. He wasn’t submissive or sycophantic, but neither was he disrespectful. He was direct, intelligent, and, to her surprise, had a unique way of understanding her.

“Sometimes it feels like you can read my mind,” Marinette joked one day as they walked through the corridors of the government building.

“Maybe it’s because you’re more transparent than you think, Minister,” Adrien replied with a mischievous smile that made Marinette quickly look away.

The young minister found herself growing unexpectedly comfortable around him. Adrien, with his sharp wit and keen observations, managed to elicit genuine smiles from her, though she tried to conceal them. On the longest days, when cabinet discussions became unbearable, Adrien always found a way to give her a moment of respite.

“Coffee?” he asked one evening, handing her a steaming cup as she continued typing emails.

“Thank you,” Marinette replied almost automatically, but after the first sip, she frowned. “This is… sweet.”

Adrien shrugged, leaning against the edge of her desk.

“Of course. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice you’ve been surviving on crackers and black coffee for days? You need some sugar to keep going.”

Marinette stared at him in disbelief but also with a hint of admiration. No one else on her team would have dared to point out something like that.

“You pay far too much attention to what I do.”

“It’s my job, Minister,” he replied with a soft smile. “To make sure everything runs smoothly—including you.”

For some reason, those words made her feel a strange warmth in her chest. It was uncomfortable, yet she didn’t want to reject it.

Adrien, on the other hand, was fully aware of what was happening. From the beginning, he knew that working closely with Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a huge risk. But what he hadn’t anticipated was how much he would like her. Marinette wasn’t just the elegant, aloof minister the world saw; in her most vulnerable moments, when her guard dropped, there was a strength and passion in her that he couldn’t help but admire.

And that complicated everything.

“Don’t forget who she is,” he told himself on nights when he replayed their interactions. But even as he thought it, the image of Marinette’s fleeting smile or the way her brows furrowed in concentration haunted him like a shadow.

He couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. But he also knew he had to tread carefully. One wrong comment, one misplaced gesture, and she might uncover the truth: that he wasn’t human. That Adrien Agreste was a Sentibeing.

Adrien had learned to be cautious from a young age. He knew all too well the silent hatred many humans harbored toward his kind, even those who publicly proclaimed tolerance. Marinette was living proof of that duality: her speeches spoke of peace, but her eyes sometimes betrayed something darker.

And yet, he couldn’t stay away. There was something about Marinette that called to him, like a magnet he couldn’t resist. Perhaps it was the irony of it all—that she, with all her hidden contempt, was the one person who made him feel something so profoundly human.

“Idiot,” he thought one afternoon as he watched her work from across the room. “You’re playing with fire.”

But it was too late. Because, despite everything, Adrien was already burning.

Chapter Text

The relationship between Marinette and Adrien had shifted almost imperceptibly at first. What began as professional respect and conversations laden with subtext gradually gave way to barely concealed flirtation. A lingering smile, a touch that lasted a moment too long, a gaze that held steady when words faltered—it was a silent game, but both knew they were crossing a dangerous line.

Marinette noticed it in the small details. Adrien found excuses to stay near her even when work didn’t require it. He brought her coffee without being asked, offered subtle compliments, and managed to draw out laughs she didn’t even know she could muster. Marinette, so accustomed to maintaining her cold façade, caught herself seeking his company. She watched him when he wasn’t looking, stealing a moment to admire the sharp lines of his jaw, the softness of his smile, or the deep, warm timbre of his voice.

“Do you always have to look at me like that when you disagree with me?” Marinette asked one afternoon as they debated a draft speech. Adrien had his arms crossed, a provocative smile on his face.

“Like what?” he replied, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

“Like you know something I don’t.”

“And what if I do?” he responded, his tone low and drawn out as he leaned slightly toward her.

For a moment, the air in the room felt thick and heavy. Marinette’s gaze locked with his, and for the first time in a long while, she couldn’t look away. There was something about him that unsettled her and yet called to her, like an abyss she couldn’t help but stare into.

“Get back to your desk, Adrien,” she finally said, her tone firm but barely masking her true feelings.

“As you wish, Minister,” he replied, though his smile said far more than his words.

That night, the government building was nearly empty. The lights in Marinette’s office still burned brightly, casting shadows on the walls. She sat at her desk, poring over documents, but her mind refused to focus. Adrien’s presence, just a few meters away, distracted her in ways she wasn’t willing to admit. He was reviewing some reports in silence, but the sound of his breathing, the creak of his chair as he moved, every small gesture seemed to fill the room.

“Don’t you have something better to do than stay so late?” Marinette asked without looking up.

“I thought you might need help,” Adrien replied, watching her with an intensity that made her feel vulnerable.

“I don’t need anyone looking after me,” she said, though her voice lacked the firmness she intended.

Adrien set his papers aside and stood slowly, crossing the room toward her. Marinette felt his approach, the warmth of his presence reaching her before he did. When she finally looked up, he was already leaning against the edge of her desk, gazing down at her.

“This isn’t about work, is it?” Adrien murmured, his voice soft but dangerous.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, though her heart began to race.

“That you feel it too,” he said with a boldness that disarmed her. Adrien leaned in just slightly, enough to close the distance between them, his eyes locked on hers. “This thing between us.”

Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She couldn’t deny it—not after all the glances, the casual touches. The space between them felt too small, the silence too heavy. Adrien lifted a hand, tracing the edge of her jaw with his fingertips, and Marinette felt like she was burning.

“If I’m wrong, tell me,” Adrien whispered.

She didn’t stop him.

It was Marinette who leaned in first, barely a fraction, as though her body moved of its own accord. Adrien closed the gap, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but soon the restraint they had both held for weeks overflowed. Marinette gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, and Adrien responded with equal fervor, wrapping her in his arms.

“This is a bad idea,” she murmured against his lips, not letting go.

“I know,” he replied before kissing her again.

No more words were exchanged after that.

The office seemed to transform into another place as Marinette and Adrien lost themselves in each other. The desk was forgotten, artificial light casting shadows over their entwined bodies. Marinette barely registered how their clothes fell to the floor or how the heat between them grew, consuming everything.

When they were finally skin to skin, Marinette felt something strange. Adrien was warm, yes, but his skin had an unusual softness she couldn’t quite place. In the heat of the moment, the sensation faded into the background. All that mattered was the way he touched her, as though he knew every inch of her, like he had been longing for her his entire life.

“Marinette…” Adrien whispered against her neck, his voice a mix of tenderness and desire.

She closed her eyes and let him pull her deeper into the abyss. For the first time in a long while, Marinette felt disconnected from everything around her—politics, responsibilities, her hidden disdain for the other species. In that moment, there was only the two of them.

When it was over, the silence between them wasn’t awkward. Adrien lay beside her, gently tracing patterns on her bare back. Marinette, still with her eyes closed, felt a calm she hadn’t known in years.

And yet, a persistent doubt began to creep into the edges of her mind. There was something about Adrien she couldn’t quite grasp, something different.

But she chose not to think about it. Not now.

“We should leave,” she murmured finally, forcing herself back to reality.

Adrien smiled against her shoulder, though his green eyes held a secret Marinette couldn’t yet see.

“As you wish, Minister.”

Chapter Text

Marinette didn’t know when she had begun to lose control. What had started as a single, isolated encounter between her and Adrien had quickly become a constant. They couldn’t keep away from each other. Adrien sought her out with that warm, mischievous gaze that made her heart race, and Marinette, despite trying to convince herself it was reckless, couldn’t resist.

Late nights at the office stretched on. Stolen moments in hallways became more frequent. In her apartment, discreet hotels, or even forgotten corners of city hall, Marinette and Adrien lost themselves in each other as though the world around them didn’t exist. Marinette, the cold and calculating minister, disappeared in those moments, leaving only the woman who loved him.

"Do you ever think about what we’re doing?" Adrien asked one afternoon as they lay entwined on the couch in her office, barely covered by an improvised blanket.

Marinette, resting against his chest, looked up. Adrien stared at the ceiling, but there was something in his voice that made her frown.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly.

Adrien turned to face her, his green eyes more serious than usual.

"Us. This. It’s dangerous, isn’t it?"

Marinette tried to smile, though a pang of unease settled in her chest.

"Maybe. But no one has to know."

Adrien nodded, but his expression tightened, as though he were holding back words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

"Sometimes I think you don’t really know who I am," he murmured, almost too quietly.

"I know you better than you think," Marinette replied firmly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Don’t overthink, Adrien."

But he couldn’t stop.

Adrien was in love with her. He knew it with every fiber of his being, and it tortured him. Loving Marinette was the most beautiful and cruel thing that had ever happened to him. When they were together, when she smiled at him with a warmth reserved just for him, Adrien could forget what he was. But with each day he spent by her side, the weight of the truth became more unbearable.

Marinette was brilliant, strong, and passionate, but she was also someone who secretly despised his kind. Adrien noticed it in the small details: the way she avoided mentioning sentibeings naturally in her speeches, or how her lips would tighten when their name came up in the news. These were subtle gestures, but Adrien, who had grown up learning to detect hidden disdain, noticed them all.

One afternoon, as they reviewed proposals in her office, Marinette received a letter that made her scoff.

"Another ridiculous request for 'equality,'" she muttered, barely containing her disdain.

Adrien, sitting across from her, looked up.

"What’s so ridiculous about it?" he asked, his voice calm but sharp.

Marinette glanced at him, surprised by his tone.

"It’s not ridiculous, but... they’re unrealistic demands. They want equality that simply isn’t feasible. We’re not the same, Adrien," she added, shrugging as though it were obvious.

Adrien felt a chill run down his spine. His knuckles tightened around the pen he was holding, and for a moment, he feared he’d lose his composure.

"We’re not the same?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

Marinette noticed his reaction and frowned slightly.

"Don’t misunderstand me. There are biological and cultural differences that can’t be ignored. It doesn’t mean they don’t deserve respect, but... mixing would be unnatural."

Adrien didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Her words hit him like a physical blow. There it was, the truth of what she thought, spoken by the same lips that kissed him at night.

Marinette either didn’t notice the change in him or chose to ignore it. She returned to her work, oblivious to the storm of emotions she had stirred in Adrien.

Meanwhile, Marinette was starting to notice strange things about Adrien, though she didn’t give them much thought. Small details that surfaced during their most intimate moments.

One night, as they lay together in her apartment, Marinette ran her fingers along the bare skin of his chest. She looked at him with curiosity, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Your skin..." she murmured. "It’s softer than anyone’s I’ve ever touched."

Adrien tensed for a brief moment before smiling.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, it’s just... different," she replied, still distracted.

Adrien caught her hand and pressed it to his lips, kissing it tenderly and effortlessly shifting her focus. Marinette smiled and stopped thinking about it, once again lost in the warmth of his embrace.

Other times, she noticed how his green eyes seemed to glimmer faintly in the dark or how Adrien moved with an almost inhuman agility. Marinette attributed these things to exhaustion, her mind playing tricks on her. After all, Adrien was perfect. Why would she suspect anything more?

Yet a small voice in the back of her mind kept whispering that there was something about him she couldn’t quite understand.

Adrien, on the other hand, remained trapped in his dilemma. He loved Marinette with all his heart, but every time he heard her comments, every time he saw the hidden disdain in her words, it felt like another wound cutting deeper into his soul.

One night, as Marinette slept beside him, Adrien watched her in silence. Her face was relaxed, serene. The woman he loved wasn’t the same one who spoke with disdain about his kind. But how could he love someone who despised a part so essential to who he was?

"What would you do if you knew what I am?" Adrien whispered into the darkness, though she couldn’t hear him.

He knew that, sooner or later, the truth would come out. And when it did, their world would shatter.

Chapter Text

The truth came to light in the most unexpected way.

Marinette had spent weeks ignoring the small signs. Adrien’s inhumanly fluid movements, the strange glow in his green eyes when the light was dim, the subtly different warmth radiating from his skin when they were together. But she always found an excuse, an explanation that allowed her to keep living in her fantasy. After all, it couldn’t be. Adrien couldn’t be one of them.

That night, the lie shattered.

The office was nearly empty when Marinette entered the conference room looking for a report Adrien had promised to deliver. Upon stepping in, she saw him with his back turned, slightly hunched over the table, reviewing some documents.

“Adrien,” she said firmly, “I need those reports now.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Marinette noticed something odd in the way he was standing.

“Adrien?” she repeated, stepping closer.

That was when he turned his face, and Marinette froze in place. His green eyes glowed intensely, almost animal-like, and a barely perceptible shimmer on his skin—now slightly luminous—made her take a step back. Adrien realized too late. His expression shifted from confusion to alarm.

“No…” Marinette murmured, feeling as though the ground had disappeared beneath her feet. “What are you?”

Adrien pressed his lips together and looked away, as though he couldn’t bear to face her.

“Marinette, let me explain…”

“Don’t come any closer!” she yelled, backing away until her back hit the wall. Her eyes locked on him, filled with terror and disgust. “You’re… you’re a sentibeing.”

Adrien exhaled, his face defeated, as if he had finally surrendered.

“Yes.”

The confirmation hit her like a slap. Marinette felt like she couldn’t breathe, as though the entire room was closing in on her.

“All this time…” she whispered, trembling. “You’ve been lying to me?”

“I never lied to you,” Adrien responded tensely. “I never hid what I am. You were the one who chose not to see the signs.”

“Shut up!” she screamed, unable to bear the calmness in his voice. “How dare you touch me, kiss me, and…” Her voice cracked, and she brought a hand to her mouth, as though trying to suppress a retch. “You were in my bed.”

Adrien felt her words pierce him like daggers. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the glow in his eyes became sharper, more dangerous.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of plague, Marinette,” he said harshly. “You were there too. Don’t pretend you didn’t want it.”

“I didn’t know!” she screamed. “I thought you were human!”

“And what does that change?” Adrien countered, taking a step closer, his voice full of pain and anger. “Does everything we felt, everything we shared, disappear just because I’m not like you?”

“Yes!” she shouted without thinking, her face contorted in revulsion. “Yes, it changes everything!”

Adrien stood still as though her words had frozen him. For a long moment, there was only silence between them. Marinette was breathing heavily, trying to process what she had just discovered, while Adrien stared at her with a mixture of sadness and fury.

“So that’s what you think, isn’t it?” he finally murmured, his voice bitter. “That I’m less than you. That I don’t deserve to be by your side.”

Marinette didn’t respond. Her lips trembled, but no words came out.

Adrien clenched his fists and turned his head, as if trying to hold himself together. But when he looked back at her, his eyes were cold, filled with something Marinette had never seen in him before.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said quietly, dangerously. “We’re not equals. I would never do to you what you’re doing to me right now.”

“Adrien…” she tried to say, but he interrupted her.

“Listen to me, Marinette,” Adrien continued, taking another step closer. She instinctively stepped back, but he didn’t stop. “If you despise me so much, if you can’t stand having been with me, what will you do when everyone else finds out? When the press, your party, and the entire country learn that the perfect minister shared her bed with a sentibeing?”

Marinette paled, her body paralyzed with fear.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered.

Adrien tilted his head, his expression still marked by pain.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “But you’re leaving me no choice.”

Marinette stared at him in disbelief, trying to find in him the man she had loved. But now, in front of her, stood someone who knew her too well—someone capable of destroying her if he wanted.

“What do you want?” she finally asked, her voice trembling.

“I want you to listen,” Adrien said, his tone softening slightly. “I want you to remember what you felt with me. What you still feel, even if you refuse to admit it now. And I want you to start changing things. Not for me—for my people.”

Marinette gaped at him.

“You’re blackmailing me?”

Adrien nodded slowly.

“Let’s call it… justice.”

“This is insane!” she exclaimed, clutching her head with her hands. “This is all insane!”

Adrien watched her in silence, his expression hardened.

“Then think about it, Marinette. Because from now on, you don’t have another option.”

And with that, Adrien turned and left the room, leaving Marinette trembling, caught between disgust, fear, and guilt.

When the door closed behind him, Marinette collapsed into a chair, feeling as though her entire world was falling apart.

Adrien wasn’t human. She had loved him, desired him, and now she couldn’t bear what that meant. But beyond the revulsion and anger, something else burned in her chest—a pang of loss so deep it terrified her.

“What have I done?” she whispered into the silence of the room.

Chapter Text

Marinette couldn’t escape him—neither his words nor his presence.

Since that night, the truth had shadowed her every step. Adrien, the man to whom she had given her heart and body, wasn’t human. He was a sentibeing. Every time she thought about it, a suffocating mix of disgust, guilt, and something far more dangerous—repressed desire—took hold of her.

Adrien, for his part, didn’t make it easy. He refused to step out of her life, even as Marinette tried to create distance. They continued working together, exchanging looks charged with resentment and tension, all while maintaining a professional façade in front of others. No one suspected the storm brewing between them. No one could imagine the secret that threatened to destroy her.

And Adrien knew it.

"Minister, do you need me to explain the report?" he asked one afternoon, his voice soft with a hint of mockery. They were alone in her office. Adrien was leaning over her desk, far too close, his eyes glinting with that strange light that made her stomach twist.

"No, I understand it perfectly," Marinette replied coldly, not meeting his gaze.

"Perfectly?" Adrien smiled, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for her. "Just like you understood me when I whispered in your ear."

Marinette gripped her pen tightly, feeling her pulse quicken. She looked up, her glare sharp enough to cut.

"Don’t start."

Adrien tilted his head, his smile unyielding, though his green eyes told a different story—intense, cold, and calculating.

"Why not?" he responded, lowering his voice further. "After all, I know you better than anyone else. Or have you forgotten?"

A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine. His words struck deep, stirring memories she had tried to bury. Memories of his hands, his voice in the darkness, and how natural it had felt to surrender to him. She hated him for bringing it all back. She hated him for making her feel it all over again.

"You're despicable," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Adrien placed his hands on the desk and leaned even closer. Marinette tried to back away, but her chair stopped her.

"Despicable?" he repeated, his gaze locked on hers. "You didn’t think so when you were in my arms. When you called my name and didn’t want me to leave."

"Enough!" Marinette snapped, standing abruptly. Her hands were shaking, and she could feel anger and panic surging inside her. Adrien straightened slowly, but his gaze never wavered.

"You can’t erase what happened," he continued calmly, though his voice carried a dangerous edge. "What you felt. What you still feel."

"I feel nothing for you," she spat, though even to her ears, the words sounded hollow.

Adrien smiled bitterly, a smile filled with both amusement and pain.

"You say that, but here you are, trembling every time I get close. Tell me, Marinette, what scares you more? That someone will find out what we did, or that you can’t stop wanting me despite what I am?"

His words cut like a knife. Heat rose to Marinette’s face—partly from anger, partly from shame. Because he was right. No matter how much she denied it, her body still remembered. Her mind still sought him in dreams that left her waking in the middle of the night, sweating and terrified of what they meant.

"Get out," she ordered, her voice tense, her eyes avoiding his.

"As you wish, Minister," Adrien replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he paused and spoke without looking back.

"But remember this: your words can say whatever you like, but your body never lies."

Marinette watched him leave, and when the door clicked shut behind him, she felt herself crumble. She sank back into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered into the empty office, though she knew Adrien couldn’t hear her.

The following days were a constant torment. Adrien didn’t relent. In public, he acted like the perfect assistant: polite, efficient, impeccable. But in private, he always found ways to get too close, to whisper things only the two of them knew.

"You look tired, Minister. Not sleeping well?" he remarked one morning in an empty elevator, leaning down to her level. "Maybe you miss my company."

Marinette felt her heartbeat quicken but kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.

"I don’t have time for your games, Adrien."

"They’re not games," he replied with a crooked smile. "I’m just reminding you who I am. Who we are."

Marinette didn’t know how much more she could take. She felt trapped between the fear of their relationship becoming public and the guilt eating away at her. She had loved him, yes, but now that she knew the truth, she couldn’t forgive herself for what she had done.

The worst part was that he was right. No matter how much she denied it, she still wanted him. Every time she saw him, it felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet. The Adrien who tormented her with sharp words was the same Adrien who had held her tenderly, who had made her feel loved.

And that was what enraged her most: that, despite everything, she still couldn’t bring herself to hate him.

Marinette was losing control. And Adrien knew it.

Chapter Text

Marinette stood alone in her office. The evening light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. On her desk lay stacks of documents, all concerning sentibeings. Segregation laws. Housing policies. Labor regulations. Topics she had always handled with unyielding coldness, yet now they filled her with a growing unease.  

All because of him.  

“This is blackmail, Adrien.” Her words from that morning still echoed in her mind.  

Adrien had stood before her, arms crossed, that dangerous gleam in his green eyes no longer seeming entirely human.  

“Call it what you want, Minister, but what other choice do you have?” he had said calmly, leaning slightly over her desk. “Either you start working for real change for my people… or I’ll make sure everyone learns your secrets.”  

Marinette had felt fury blaze in her chest, mingled with deep humiliation. He dared to give her orders, to use their intimacy as a weapon. And the worst part was, it worked. She couldn’t let her image crumble, couldn’t allow her career—her entire life—to collapse.  

“That doesn’t make you any better than the people you’re defending,” she had spat venomously.  

Adrien had merely smiled, a bitter, weary smile.  

“Maybe not, Marinette. But tell me, how can you look me in the eyes and deny me something you’ve taken so many times yourself?”  

The words had cut like a knife, and since then, she hadn’t been able to shake them from her mind.  

Now, as she held a draft bill on labor rights in her hands, her thoughts began to unravel.  

“This isn’t fair,” she murmured, her throat tight. But she wasn’t sure if she meant Adrien, his blackmail, or something much larger.  

From as far back as she could remember, disdain for sentibeings had been a part of her life. A silent, omnipresent belief, as natural as breathing. Her parents, her teachers, her peers—everyone had always spoken of human superiority, cloaking it in softer words.  

“We’re just different.”  
“It’s for the good of society.”  
“It’s better to maintain the natural order of things.”  

She had believed those phrases with blind faith, never questioning them. Sentibeings. Strange, inferior creatures. The idea of mingling with them had always seemed repulsive, because that was what she had been taught.  

But now… now something inside her broke every time she thought of Adrien.  

Adrien, who had been kind. Adrien, who had made her laugh on her hardest days. Adrien, who had been in her arms, vulnerable and open, like any human being.  

“No…” she whispered, trying to push the thoughts away. But the damage was already done.  

Why did she hate sentibeings so much? The question lodged itself in her mind like a thorn she couldn’t remove. Marinette forced herself to seek answers, but she found only emptiness.  

Because it’s the way things should be, she thought. Because… because they’re different.  

But how were they different? Adrien was different, yes, but he was still Adrien. He hadn’t seemed monstrous when he held her. He hadn’t seemed less intelligent when they debated ideas in the office. He hadn’t seemed repulsive when he looked at her with desire, tenderness, and love.  

The pen slipped from her fingers. Marinette stood abruptly, her breathing unsteady. She walked to the window, staring out at the city sprawled before her. The city she had always defended so fervently. A place of apparent peace, where sentibeings existed only on the margins.  

Was it right? Was it right to cling to a hatred she had never questioned?  

For the first time in her life, Marinette felt the ground beneath her feet shift.  

“What if I’m wrong?”  

The thought filled her with dread. Because if she was wrong, if everything she had believed and defended was false, then… what was left of her?  

“This is your fault, Adrien,” she murmured, her fists pressed against the window. But even as she said it, she couldn’t help but recall his sad eyes, his broken words from their argument.  

“Why do you hate me so much for something I didn’t choose to be?”  

The memory pierced her. Marinette shut her eyes tightly, trying to block it out, but she couldn’t. Adrien was there, in every corner of her mind.  

And the worst part was that, despite everything, she still felt like she loved him.  

Chapter Text

Marinette had been on the verge of collapse for days. Adrien's blackmail weighed on her like an immovable stone. Her nights were long and restless, and her days were a constant battle between the control she needed to maintain and the chaos Adrien stirred within her. But worst of all was the question she couldn’t stop asking herself: What if I’m wrong?

That night, at an official government gala, the tension was unbearable. Marinette moved through the hall with her usual composure, greeting ambassadors, political allies, and other ministers, while Adrien kept a polite distance, exuding that infuriatingly carefree demeanor he always carried. It was maddening how effortlessly he seemed to fit into a world that would despise him if they knew the truth.

Everything was going as well as it could—until Marinette saw her.

A woman, a young assistant to another official, stood beside Adrien, leaning far too close, smiling flirtatiously. Marinette couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she saw the way the woman placed her hand on Adrien’s arm, laughing melodiously. To her absolute indignation, Adrien smiled back. Not his usual bitter or mocking smile, but one of those genuine smiles he used to reserve for her… back when she didn’t know what he truly was.

A searing heat rose to Marinette’s face. Her hands curled into fists, and something dark and primal awakened inside her. Jealousy. Pure, burning possessiveness.

How dare she?

Before she realized it, she was crossing the room. The sharp clicks of her heels against the polished floor turned heads, but no one dared to stop her. When she reached them, Adrien turned his head slightly toward her, wearing that maddeningly calm expression. The young woman kept smiling at him, as if Marinette didn’t exist.

“Adrien,” Marinette said coldly, her voice edged with restrained fury.

The assistant blinked in surprise and quickly withdrew her hand from Adrien’s arm. Marinette’s glare was enough to send the woman stammering out an excuse before disappearing into the crowd.

Adrien raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Jealous, Minister?” he asked in a low voice, leaning in just slightly.

“Come with me,” Marinette ordered, ignoring his taunt.

Adrien smirked, clearly enjoying himself, and gave a casual nod. Without waiting for confirmation, Marinette turned on her heel and walked toward one of the hall’s side doors. Adrien followed silently, but she could feel his presence behind her, a constant heat that burned her skin.

They reached a quiet hallway, and Marinette pushed open a door leading to a small storage room—the janitor’s closet. The space was cramped, shelves lined with cleaning supplies and boxes, but it didn’t matter. She shut the door behind them, the air instantly becoming suffocating.

“What was that?” Adrien asked mockingly, leaning lazily against the wall. His green eyes glinted with that maddening intensity that drove her insane. “I thought you didn’t care what I did.”

Marinette didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was a storm of emotions: anger, frustration, jealousy… and desire. She couldn’t explain it, but seeing him there, so calm, so utterly himself, something inside her shattered.

“Shut up,” she whispered. And then she kissed him.

It was a rough, desperate, possessive kiss. Marinette grabbed his face and pulled him toward her, crushing her lips against his with a need she wouldn’t dare admit, even to herself. Adrien seemed surprised at first but quickly responded. His hands gripped her waist, pressing her against the shelves as the kiss deepened, growing wilder.

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to remember what Adrien was or what he represented. She only wanted to feel him, to claim him, to prove to herself that he was still hers.

“I hate you…” she murmured against his lips, though her words lacked strength.

Adrien smirked between kisses, that infuriating arrogance driving her mad.
“You don’t believe that,” he replied, biting her lower lip gently and drawing a muffled gasp from her.

The tension that had been building for days finally exploded. Marinette’s hands fumbled with his shirt, clumsily undoing the buttons. Clothes became an afterthought, discarded carelessly onto the floor. Adrien gripped her hips, lifting her slightly to perch her on a narrow table that creaked under their weight.

Marinette looked into his eyes, and for a moment, she felt something different. It wasn’t just desire or rage; it was something deeper, something that terrified her. Adrien stared back as if he could read her darkest thoughts, and that made her pull him closer, their bodies moving together in a way that left them both breathless.

The outside world faded away. There were no laws, no hatred, no differences between them. Only their tangled bodies, the sound of their ragged breaths, and the undeniable truth that, despite everything, this was what she had wanted most of all.

“I know you better than anyone, Marinette,” Adrien murmured into her ear, his movements steady yet unrelenting.

Marinette closed her eyes, feeling those words unravel her. Because they were true.

And that was what scared her the most.

Chapter Text

The days passed in an uncomfortable calm. Marinette and Adrien barely exchanged words beyond what was strictly necessary at work. Every interaction was a battle of glances and charged silences, as if they were both standing at the edge of a cliff, yet neither wanted to take the first step.

Marinette maintained her cold and calculating expression in public, but inside, something tormented her.  
Adrien, on the other hand, kept the same composure as always, but Marinette could see the subtle changes in his posture, how he avoided looking at her for too long. And, though she hated it, the distance made her miss him. She missed his smiles, his provocations, and most of all, how he made her feel, even if she wouldn't admit it.

That’s why, that afternoon, when Adrien received a message from Marinette inviting him to her apartment after work, he couldn’t hide his surprise.

"Come to my place tonight. I need to talk to you."

The message didn’t give details, but Adrien didn’t hesitate to accept. Curiosity and the desire to see her outside the city hall environment overwhelmed him.  
When he arrived at her apartment, Adrien didn’t know what to expect. He knocked on the door, and instantly, Marinette appeared on the other side. She wore a simple, dark dress, with her hair loose in soft waves over her shoulders. Adrien had to force himself not to stare at her for too long.

"Come in," she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.  
Adrien crossed the threshold cautiously. What he saw left him speechless.  
The small dining table was elegantly set: a white tablecloth, lit candles casting a soft glow, and plates perfectly arranged with what he recognized as a traditional French dinner.

The aroma was delicious, enveloping, but what confused him most was the intimate atmosphere Marinette had created.  
"Did you do all this?" Adrien asked, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief.  
Marinette nodded with a shy smile, averting her gaze.  
"Yes... I thought you’d like it," she replied, nervously playing with the hem of her dress.  

Adrien looked at her with a mixture of surprise and distrust. This wasn’t the cold minister who faced him day after day with sharp words. This Marinette seemed... different. Softer, more human.  

"Sit down," she said, gesturing to the chair across from him.  

Adrien obeyed, still unsure of what to think. Marinette poured the wine and sat across from him. There was a tense silence at first, broken only by the sound of utensils gently clinking against plates.  

"It’s delicious," Adrien finally murmured, looking at the food.  

"Thank you." Her voice was barely a whisper.  

Adrien raised his gaze to meet hers, and that’s when he saw it. Marinette’s eyes, usually so confident, were filled with something he’d never seen before: regret. Her expression was vulnerable, so raw that Adrien felt a lump form in his chest.  

"Adrien," she began, setting her fork down and taking a breath, as if about to jump into the unknown. "I... I wanted to apologize."  
Adrien stared at her, not daring to breathe.  

"Apologize," she repeated, her voice barely holding together. "For what I said, for what I did. For everything I made you feel."  

Marinette looked away, her hands trembling slightly on the table.  

"I can’t justify it. I grew up with that hatred, with those ideas. But you... you’ve made me question it all. And even though I’m scared of what I feel, I can’t deny I’ve been unfair to you, Adrien. You don’t deserve my contempt, or anyone's."  

Adrien felt something inside him break. For so long, he’d carried the weight of rejection, hatred, of not being good enough just because of what he was. Hearing those words from Marinette — her, who had been the symbol of everything he hated about his world — shook him to the core.  

"Marinette..." he murmured, his voice choked.  

She lifted her gaze, and her blue eyes, filled with held-back tears, pierced through him. Adrien felt a torrent of emotions overwhelm him like a wave: relief, rage, love. Everything he’d kept buried for years. He couldn’t contain it any longer.

Tears began to slide down his cheeks, silently, as he lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze.  

"You... you don’t know what it means to hear that," he managed to say, his voice breaking.  

Marinette slowly stood and walked around the table to approach him. Adrien felt her warm hand settle on his shoulder, and before he could stop her, she hugged him. A firm embrace, as if she were trying to hold him together while he collapsed.  

"I’m so sorry, Adrien," she whispered, her voice trembling.  

Adrien didn’t know when he clung to her, hiding his face in her shoulder as the tears continued to fall. The weight he’d been carrying for so long, that mix of pain and resentment, began to fade little by little.  

"I hate you," he murmured against her skin, though his words lacked venom. "I hate you for making me feel this... and for still making me feel this."  

Marinette closed her eyes, holding on to him tighter.  
"I know," she whispered. "And I understand."  

For a long while, they simply held each other. The usual coldness of Marinette had vanished, replaced by a warmth Adrien never thought he would come to know from her. The hatred and distance that had separated them began to crumble, though not entirely. The path ahead of them was still uncertain, filled with scars and silences.  
But in that moment, between tears and whispers, they both found something resembling peace.

Chapter Text

Three years had passed since that night when Adrien and Marinette shared an embrace, tears, and regret that transformed their lives forever.  
Now, in the city that had suffered so much from the racial tensions, change was starting to emerge, though slow and painful.  

Society was no longer the same. The sentibeings, the race Adrien belonged to, no longer lived in the shadows. They were no longer criminalized for their existence. Discrimination, although still present in some corners, was less visible, less accepted.  

New laws granted them basic rights: the right to live equally, to be treated with respect, to access jobs and education.  

Marinette had been a key figure in these advancements. After her tough decisions, the internal battles she fought, and the love she had learned to accept, she became a staunch advocate for racial equality.  

She had pushed for reforms, met with sentibeing leaders, and, above all, committed herself to creating a more just world, one where the new generations could live without the prejudices she had carried so deeply throughout her life.  

But change was never easy. There were still sectors of society that didn’t accept what was happening. There were still voices raised in opposition, and even though the laws favored sentibeings, implementing those laws was a daily struggle. Yet, with every step, with every small victory, Marinette felt her world becoming more just, more human.  

And by her side, Adrien. Always by her side.  
He was no longer the insecure boy he once was, hiding under the shadow of his true nature. Now, he was a man who walked with his head held high, who looked at his reflection without fear, without regret. He had been part of that fight, helping to dismantle the walls of hatred that once trapped him. But beyond that, he had found peace in his relationship with Marinette, the woman who had been his adversary, his love, his everything.  

Now, they lived together in a small apartment in the heart of the city, a city that was slowly starting to shine with hope. The sunlight filtered through the windows, lighting up the living room, where a breakfast table was set with a simple but comforting meal.  

The air was filled with the tranquility of routine, but also with a special stillness that only time and healing could bring.  

"What time do you have to go to the office today?" Adrien asked, watching Marinette as she prepared a cup of coffee.  

Marinette looked up, smiling faintly. Her eyes, as expressive as ever, reflected a mixture of pride and satisfaction.  

"Not long after you. Today is one of those days when I have to go over human rights reports. But I have time for a relaxed breakfast."  

Adrien smiled and approached to steal a kiss on her cheek.  

"I’ve missed you, minister," he said playfully.  

Marinette looked at him, with a smile that only he knew. They had moved from tension and conflict to a deep, mature love. The two of them, once enemies, now understood each other in a way no one else could. They knew each other in every corner of their souls.  

"I’ve missed you too, but don’t get jealous of the work," Marinette joked, though her tone was soft, full of affection.  

Adrien dropped into a chair, watching her with a sincere smile. He knew they couldn’t turn back. The path they had walked could not be undone.  

There had been dark moments that marked them, but there had also been bright moments that built a new life for both of them, for the sentibeings, and for the humans.  

As the years passed, Adrien also began to play an active role in social policies, working side by side with Marinette. Sometimes their conversations about the future were long and deep, but they always ended with one certainty: they were building something bigger than the two of them. They were tearing down the old structures of hatred and building a more inclusive, more empathetic society.  

"We did it, didn’t we?" Marinette said one day, as she looked at the results of her latest reform on her computer screen. The new laws had started being implemented in several major cities.  

There were more opportunities for sentibeings, more government support, and, for the first time in a long while, a possible future for everyone was beginning to emerge.  

Adrien approached and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.  

"We did it," he replied, with a satisfied smile.  

At that moment, Marinette looked at him, and for the first time, she didn’t feel the heavy burden of her prejudices. She didn’t feel the hatred from her past. She only saw a man who had been her partner, her love, her confidant.  

And in his eyes, she saw a future full of possibilities, a future they could only build together.  
The road had been long, but they had finally found peace. A peace that was not only the result of their struggle but also of the love that had grown between them, stronger than any obstacle, any wall built in their path.  

The world was changing, and they were part of that change. And in their small apartment, surrounded by the warm lights of a city that was now beginning to shine with hope, Marinette and Adrien knew that, although the road would never be easy, they now had something they had never imagined: a future together.