Paris’s New Superhero Sprints Away From Justice
Adrien had never felt like this before.
In his old life, the idea of running, jumping, or even existing outside his father’s carefully curated world had been laughable.
The most “outdoors” he ever got was walking from a car to a studio. The only time he ever ran was on a treadmill under a personal trainer’s supervision. His father had never allowed anything as inelegant as parkour, as reckless as running freely through the streets of Paris like some wild animal.
"A model must carry himself with grace, Adrien," Gabriel’s voice echoed in his head, cold and clinical. "Not sprint around like an undisciplined delinquent."
And for most of his life?
Adrien had listened.
He had been the perfect son. The perfect heir. The perfect prisoner.
Trapped in an endless loop of scheduled photoshoots, press appearances, and social engagements he hadn’t even wanted.
He had never done this.
Never jumped from rooftop to rooftop with nothing but the wind in his hair and the city beneath his feet. Never felt his own muscles work like this, moving not for a camera or an audience, but for himself.
And it was incredible.
Power thrummed beneath his skin. His muscles moved faster, stronger, lighter than they ever had before. Every step felt effortless, every leap was a thrill.
For the first time in his entire life, he felt free.
He let out a sharp breath, then jumped.
His body arched through the air, the city stretching out beneath him, rooftops rolling like waves.
His boots hit the next ledge with perfect precision. His tail belt whipped behind him, balancing every movement.
He grinned, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.
"The air resistance is perfect. My footwork? Flawless. I am one with the rooftops."
He immediately faceplanted.
Flat. On his stupid cat face.
For a long moment, Adrien just lay there, unmoving.
His tail twitched.
“…Ow.”
Adrien landed on a rooftop, heart pounding, breath steady, the thrill of the night still buzzing through his veins.
And then he saw her.
A figure standing at the edge of the rooftop, bathed in the soft glow of the Parisian skyline.
A red-and-black silhouette.
Poised. Elegant. Unshaken.
She turned, tilting her head slightly, regarding him with mild curiosity.
Adrien stared.
Oh. Oh, she’s cool.
Like, ridiculously cool.
Mysterious masked vigilante energy? Check.
Graceful rooftop stance? Check.
Battle-ready, heroine-of-the-city vibes? Double check.
Adrien felt intrigue spark in his chest. Who was she?
As if on cue, the System chimed.
[New Character Encountered! Unlocking Introduction…]
Name: Ladybug
Hero of Paris! The Clever, Brave, and Beautiful Leader of the Dynamic Duo!
Fated to be Chat Noir’s Eternal Partner and One True Love!
Adrien’s intrigue snapped in half.
Wait.
No.
NO.
The System continued mercilessly.
[Current Romance Route in Progress: Chat Noir x Ladybug – Star-Crossed Soulmates! 💕]
Adrien’s soul left his body.
He stared at the text.
Then back at Ladybug.
Then back at the text.
Then back at Ladybug.
His brain made the connection.
Ladybug was Marinette.
Adrien’s entire worldview shattered.
The Game Was Making Him Date Marinette Twice.
In the distance, a faint glass-breaking sound effect played in his head.
Ladybug blinked at him.
“…Chat Noir?”
Adrien clutched his head.
No, no, NO.
The game wasn’t just trying to make him fall in love with Marinette.
It was doubling down.
It was running two routes at the same time.
It was a tangled, self-devouring Möbius strip of romance.
It was forcing him into a love triangle with HIMSELF.
THIS HAD TO BE A BUG.
Or worse—
THIS WAS INTENTIONAL.
Ladybug frowned. “Are you okay?”
Adrien forced himself to look at her.
The realization slammed into him like a brick to the face.
Oh my god. We’re both running around Paris in skintight outfits.
I look like a discount BDSM cosplayer.
She looks like a latex fever dream.
And we are supposed to be 18.
The horror dawned on him.
Is this why my game rating was Teen and Up?
Ladybug’s frown deepened. “Chat Noir?”
Adrien scrambled for an out.
[Dialogue Choice Unlocked!]
🗨️ “Good evening, my lady~” (Flirty route, ABSOLUTELY NOT.)
🗨️ “What brings a lovely lady like you out here tonight?” (Romance event. DEAR GOD, NO.)
🗨️ “Hi.” (The bare minimum. Good enough.)
Adrien picked the safest option.
“Hi,” he said weakly.
Ladybug raised an eyebrow.
“…Hi?” she echoed.
Silence stretched between them.
Adrien cleared his throat.
“Uh. Patrol.” He gestured vaguely at the city. “I… should go do that. Elsewhere. Not here.”
Ladybug blinked.
“…What?”
Adrien was already backing away.
“You know. Patrol. Crime. Justice.” His voice cracked. “Not… standing around. Talking. To you.”
Ladybug’s confusion deepened.
“…That’s usually all you want to do?”
Adrien choked.
“OkayBYE.”
Then he turned and ran.
Full sprint.
Absolute escape speed.
NOPE.
Ladybug watched him go.
She blinked.
Then, slowly, suspiciously, narrowed her eyes.
“…What the hell was that?”
Adrien had never run this fast in his life.
Which was impressive, considering he had no idea where he was running to.
His only goal? AWAY.
Ladybug was still back there, confused, probably watching him bolt like a lunatic.
But he couldn’t care about that right now.
Because his entire existence had just imploded.
He had been excited when he first learned he had a superhero partner.
A partner in crime-fighting? A fellow masked vigilante? A potential badass ally with cool powers who he could unravel the mysteries of the city with?
That sounded incredible.
He had imagined someone fierce. Someone mysterious. Someone who would fight at his side, exchange witty banter, and stand dramatically on rooftops while brooding about justice.
Instead?
It was Marinette.
Marinette.
Adrien dragged his hands down his face as he stumbled onto the banks of the Seine.
The river sparkled peacefully.
Adrien did not.
He began pacing.
"This game is so stupid," he muttered, kicking a pebble into the water.
The moment he had been assigned a partner, he had pictured dynamic duos.
Luffy and Zoro. Spiderman and Deadpool. Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask. (He was obviously Sailor Moon.)
Instead, the System had handed him a romantic comedy co-star.
And the worst part? She didn’t even know it.
“She doesn’t even know it!” he shouted at the universe. “She’s just running around thinking this is her normal life, while I’m out here being STRATEGICALLY FORCED INTO HER ARMS.”
A passing couple stared.
Adrien glared at them.
“What are you looking at?!"
They hurried away.
He kept pacing.
"Why is this happening?! What did I do?! I literally just woke up and started EXISTING!"
He paced faster. The Seine twinkled beautifully beside him, completely unaware that his life was falling apart.
"And now I have TWO IDENTITIES trying to DATE THE SAME GIRL. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!"
A lone pigeon cooed unhelpfully.
Adrien threw his arms out wildly.
"THIS GAME HAS MADE ME INTO A SELF-INSERT LOVE TRIANGLE. I AM ROMANCEABLE TWICE. THIS IS SOME KIND OF CRIME."
A passing elderly man gave him a concerned look.
He threw his hands in the air.
“AND WE’RE BOTH RUNNING AROUND PARIS IN SKIN-TIGHT LEATHER.”
He stopped, horrified by his own realization.
I’m literally running around in a full-body catsuit.
She’s in a full-body latex suit.
We are teenagers.
He grabbed his hair like he was trying to shake the System out of him.
“WHO DESIGNED THIS. WHO MADE THIS CHOICE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE RATING IS TEEN AND UP.”
The Seine was calm.
Adrien was losing his mind.
He turned sharply, mid-rant, ready to throw more philosophical complaints into the void.
And walked straight into someone.
Adrien stumbled back.
A soft chuckle drifted through the night air.
A voice, gentle and smooth, amused but unbothered.
"That bad, huh, Chat Noir?"
Adrien snapped up, ready to apologize on instinct.
“I’m so—”
Then he actually saw him.
A head of blue-dyed ombre hair, loose and tousled, catching the faint glow of the streetlights.
A black guitar case, slung lazily over a broad shoulder, its weight seemingly effortless.
A relaxed smirk, the kind that carried the unshaken confidence of someone who didn’t care what people thought of him.
And—most terrifying of all—calm, steady teal eyes, looking at him like he was something interesting.
Adrien’s brain glitched.
Heat flashed across his face.
Oh. Oh, no.
OH NO.
[System Alert: Love Route Unlocked!]
Adrien blanched.
Oh, for the love of—
His stomach dropped as the familiar, cursed pop-up window materialized in his vision.
Name: Luka Couffaine
Route Status: Unlocked
Traits: Laid-Back, Loyal, Deeply Romantic
Appeal: The Soulful Musician with a Heart of Gold
Game Description: A poetic, free-spirited guitarist who speaks in riddles and sees through the noise of the world. Will serenade you with gentle melodies and unwavering devotion.
Adrien’s soul left his body.
OH, COME ON.
He threw his hands in the air, internally screaming.
IS EVERY GUY IN PARIS TRYING TO FALL IN LOVE WITH MARINETTE?!
He had known about Félix.
That had been obvious.
Félix was the unattainable, cold British heir.
The thinking woman’s crush.
And since Chloe had played his route religiously, Adrien had at least been prepared for that one.
But Luka?
He scrolled down.
The rest of the city froze, time locked in place while he frantically read the rest of the character description.
Curiosity was justified, right?
This wasn’t weird.
This was due diligence.
He barely knew anything about Luka because—
“Pfft.”
Adrien almost laughed out loud as he skimmed the bottom of the page.
"Of course."
Chloe had never played Luka’s route.
In fact, she had outright refused.
"Ugh, no. He’s a commoner pleb with shitty hair, why would I waste my time?"
Right.
Adrien glanced up.
Luka stood there, perfectly frozen in place.
He wasn’t moving.
The entire world had gone still.
Adrien tilted his head, properly taking him in.
Okay, yeah. Chloe was a liar.
The hair was great.
It was unruly in a way that looked intentional, just messy enough to be effortless, yet still soft and perfectly suited to his face.
His jawline was sharp, but his eyes were warm—steady, unreadable, but not in an unkind way. Like he was constantly listening to something that no one else could hear.
Even in stillness, he looked like he belonged here—like a piece of the city itself, woven into the background music of Paris.
And his hands—
Adrien blinked.
Why was he looking at his hands?
His gaze flickered back to the screen.
And then he saw it. One word.
Sexuality: Bisexual
Adrien blue-screened.
His entire brain short-circuited.
A faint ringing noise echoed in his skull.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
…
…