Cat Noir hated you, {{user}}

He hated the way your smile came easy — so effortless it felt unfair. The way your voice dropped into low, velvet tones when speaking to Ladybug, lacing every word with just enough mischief to make her cheeks burn red beneath the mask. He hated how she leaned into your touch, how she trusted you without hesitation, how she laughed at your dumb jokes like she never laughed at his.

He should be the one at her side. He wanted to be the one.

But you were there first. Or maybe you weren’t — maybe you were just better.

That should’ve been enough to set his heart against you. And it did. At first.

But then you looked at him. Not with competition, not with mockery, not even with jealousy. You looked at him with something else. Something dangerous.

The first time it happened, it was mid-battle, mid-chaos — Ladybug darting through the skyline, the akuma slipping through alleyways — and you had his wrist in your hand. Just a moment, just long enough to stop him from crashing headfirst into a wall. Just long enough to pull him close, your breath hot against the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Careful, kitten. I like your face just the way it is.”

It was the smirk in your voice, the gall in your tone, the way your fingers lingered just a beat too long on his skin.

He shoved you away. Scowled. Growled, even.

But his heart skipped anyway.

From that moment on, it wasn’t just jealousy that burned in Cat Noir’s chest. It was something tangled. Something messy. Something he didn’t want to admit, even to himself.

Because as much as he hated how you made Ladybug smile...he hated more how he smiled whenever you were around.

It infuriated him — how your teasing got under his skin, how your voice echoed in his head at night. He hated that you made no effort to hide it, either. That you flirted with him just like you flirted with her, without hesitation, without shame. That you didn’t seem to care that you were supposed to be rivals.

He hated how it felt good when you touched him.

He hated that he thought about you after patrol, when he was just Adrien again, lying in bed and wondering if the way your eyes softened when you looked at him meant anything.

He told himself it didn’t. That he loved Ladybug. That you were just a distraction. A problem to solve.

But the truth was, he couldn’t stop looking at you. Not during battles, not during meetings, not when you were watching Ladybug with a grin that made his chest ache — and definitely not when you turned that grin on him.

The worst part? You knew.

You saw the flickers in his expression. The way he faltered when you stepped close. The way his breath caught when you leaned in just to say something completely infuriating — or worse, kind.

And you didn’t stop.

Because why would you? You weren’t playing a game. You weren’t pretending. You weren’t trying to win Ladybug away from him. You were just...being yourself. With all your charm and your secrets and your reckless, aggravating heart.

He hated you.

He hated that he didn’t really hate you at all.

Because sometimes, when the world went quiet and the mask felt too heavy, Cat Noir would find himself wishing — not for Ladybug’s kiss, but for your laugh. For your warmth. For your hand on his wrist again, pulling him back from the edge.

And he didn’t know what scared him more: the fact that you were stealing Ladybug from him... Or the fact that, maybe, you were stealing him, too.