So, this story is part of LadyNoir July 2019 - a series of stories that I've written together with 2 other Miraculous FanFic authors, Epcot97 and ChubbyUnicornMama. You can see all of our July stories on ChubbyUnicornMama's page under Spots and Tails: A LadyNoir July Story. The prompt for the day was "Inspiration."

Reminder that I do not own any rights to Miraculous.

I've always been a walking ball of creativity. Thoughts and ideas usually spring out of me - often at the most inconvenient of times, like the night before a big test. But lately, it was like the well of inspiration had run dry.

Part of me wondered, as I stared at the blank sketchbook on my lap, if my double life stress as Ladybug had killed all the creativity out of me. I had been so busy battling bad guys, putting together plans to defeat Hawkmoth, running around the rooftops of Paris that I just hadn't felt any sparks. I was worn thin. Exhaustion was definitely not the way to get inspired.

The sound of my alarm reminded me that, once again, I was due to meet up with my partner to patrol the city.

Deciding that maybe after our run was done for the night, I would try sitting at the foot of the Eiffel Tower to see if anything clicked, I tucked my book and pencils into a small backpack and slipped it on before calling Tikki to transform me.

Thankfully, the suit made all my extras disappear somewhere but would return it all when I reverted back.

It was a crisp night - the sky above me twinkling with a million stars. Something that truly should inspire me, but honestly didn't. What if it never came back? What if my hopes of becoming a fashion designer flopped before I could even try? The thought made me frown.

Chat was waiting in our usual meeting spot, casually leaning on his staff with that crooked smirk he loved to wear.

"Good evening, My Lady." His voice purred, looking somewhat like a kitten who had found a bowlful of cream and was up to no good.

"Hey Kitty," I responded, realizing a little too late that my voice sounded flat and dull. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice. He did. His eyes narrowed slightly in my direction, the smirk falling slightly as he studied my face.

"What's wrong, Ladybug?" Genuine concern marred his handsome features so I tried to make an attempt at smiling. I was sure it wasn't convincing.

"Nothing, Chat. I just am tired." Definitely not convincing.

"Not buying it, LB. Talk to me. What's going on?" Darned cat. He just didn't know how to leave things alone. How could I explain the struggle I was having with my creativity without giving myself away?

Since we obviously weren't going to start patrol, I flopped on the rooftop and sat slumped over.

"It's really nothing much, kitty. I've just been doing so much as Ladybug that I think I've killed my creative spark. I usually have a million and one ideas for everything, but lately…. It's like it's just…. gone."

He frowned at me, slowly lowering himself down beside me. I could feel his eyes on my face as he sat quietly. The silence of the evening surrounded us as we sat there together.

I startled slightly when he suddenly jumped to his feet, a huge smile lighting up his eyes, and his hand stretched out to take mine. "I have an idea." That's all he said, as he waited for me to reach up and take his hand. When I did, he pulled me snug against him and ran. I barely had time to sling my arms around his neck before he threw us off the roof and into the air, wind fluttering my pigtails against my neck.

"Close your eyes," he whispered in my ear. I did as he asked, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my face into his collarbone, wondering what, exactly, this boy was up to and where he was taking me.

"Ok, open them." Slowly I did, turning to face forward. He had stopped at the Trocadero - the park directly across from the Eiffel Tower. A tower which was bathed in a beautiful golden glow of light, illuminated against the darkness of the night sky.

"I think, sometimes, we forget the beauty that we see every day here in Paris," Chat murmured. "It's familiar, it's normal, but … it's beautiful." He wasn't even looking at the tower, I realized. His eyes were on me again, and I felt myself flush at the dual meaning of his words. Refusing to look at him again, I stared at the tower.

How often had we been up there, perched at various platforms and heights? How many times had we battled akumas there? He was right - I'd forgotten to take the time to look at my city with fresh eyes.

"Come on. Follow me," he ordered softly, feet already moving. Throwing my yo-yo, I raced behind him. He seemed to be a man on a mission - directing us towards the Palais Garnier. The opera house was old, as many of the buildings in Paris were - ornamented in columns, statues made of gold and stone, and elegantly detailed elements.

Smiling at me as we stood in front of it, he took my hand again and pulled me closer to the door. "Have you ever been inside?" When I had to admit that I'd never entered the building, he seemed almost giddy dragging me through the doors, a clear destination in mind.

It was like a whole other world. Every inch was covered in beauty - detailed sculpture, heavy fabrics, classic lines of figures and patterns and elegance. Large glass chandeliers dangled from the ceilings, their lamps casting a warm, golden glow over the whole space, with highly decorated pillars lined the walls with large windowed doors.

I was speechless. Chat just grinned at me, hand still in mine as we slowly padded our way down the grand entrance. My brain was whirling, trying to absorb every inch of the grandeur. It was absolutely mind-boggling the amount of art in a single hallway.

I knew my mouth was probably open as wide as my eyes as I just gaped. My fingers yearned to draw - what I wasn't sure, but something was there at the edge of my mind begging to be set free on the page.

"Oh, Chat. It's unbelievable." He chuckled. I sank to the floor, laying down to look at the artwork on the ceiling. He lay down beside me, our heads together and feet at opposite edges of the room. He was silent, letting me soak it all in.

After a while, I could barely contain myself anymore.

"Chat. I…. I need to draw. I brought my book, but -" He understood. He sat up, tucked his head into his arms that he placed across his knees and promised not to look. Quickly, I sat up and let my transformation fall.

Tikki gave me one of her all-knowing looks and nibbled on a cookie while I pulled my sketchbook and supplies out of my bag. I slipped it back in place on my shoulders and waited for Tikki to give me the nod to go ahead. Quickly I changed back into Ladybug, eager to get started.

Giving Chat the ok to open his eyes, I got to work - pencils flashing against the page as design after design spilled out, inspired by the artwork and beauty that surrounded us.

Chat didn't say a word. He simply rested on the ground beside me while I worked, lost in the world of creating. I admit I jumped when he put a claw on my arm.

"We should go, LB. It's nearly midnight."

He was right, of course, even if I didn't feel like it. My body ached when I stretched - a sure sign that I had been focused for too long.

"Sorry about that, Kitty. Sometimes I get a little caught up in my designs." I flushed, realizing that we'd been there for hours and he'd had nothing to do. He just smiled, shrugging, before hopping to his feet and helping me to mine.

"I don't mind. It was nice to just hang out. I'm glad it helped to inspire you." He was right. It really had.

"Next time, I have a different place in mind. You will love it."

I didn't even have a chance to argue. He just grinned, reminded me to pack my sketchbook on our next patrol, and jumped into the night with one of his patented salutes.

Somehow, that night started a new tradition for us. Every night we finished our patrol, Chat would grab my hand and drag me somewhere new. I had the opportunity to see Paris through a whole new set of eyes - beautiful and secret - as we explored famous landmarks and hidden gardens.

Stained glass windows and flowers inspired colourful designs. The city lights shining through raindrops inspired shimmering gowns. Tile patterns inspired formal shirts for men. The street front mix of colours inspired me to put unusual colours together in design. Juxtapositioned ancient and new inspired me to combine old-world fashion with cutting edge haute-couture. Statues and paintings gave me creative start to clothing I'd never considered before.

The pressure of my double life seemed to lift as the freedom to be inspired returned - joy in my life when before the mask weighed on me. Now it allowed me access to places I could never go before. Design was my release from the stress of responsibilities.

Before long, my sketchbook was full. Then a new one. And another. Weeks turned into months turned into years - a tradition of searching for beauty and inspiration together.

Through it all, Chat would just sit or lay nearby in silence as I allowed myself the freedom to create. Sometimes his hand would just hold mine softly. Sometimes his head would rest on my shoulder or lap. Sometimes I would catch him watching me, which would make me blush behind the mask with uncertainty - only for him to smile cryptically and offer a pun to break the awkwardness.

It was beautiful - our moments together.

I found myself designing all the time: during class, sitting at the table in a restaurant with my friends, in the middle of the night.

Most of my friends saw me as eccentric - proud of the things I drew but not really understanding. Adrien, however, seemed invested, willingly listening to my 1001 ideas with patience and offering suggestions to make them better. He was able, at times, to see where my designs were inspired from. It felt like he was a co-conspirator to my art. Coffee meetups with friends became dinners out together - fashion a common ground to our strong and growing friendship.

My dream of fashion design school became a reality as my portfolio featured such creative and diverse designs. My friends all partied for me - Alya as her loud and energetic self and Adrien glowing with pride at my accomplishments. Chat, however, had beamed with excitement, twirling me around and whooping, leaving me laughing with breathlessness.

It was that night that Chat guided me back to the Opera House.

Wandering together, it seemed as if the grand set of stairs, the hallways, the auditorium were more glorious than ever - years of practice of looking at things with fresh eyes inspiring me to create new things from what I could see.

At last, we ended up in the same elaborate hallway that had set off our adventures - just as breathtaking as it was before. In silence we stood together, examine the artwork that surrounded us. I felt Chat's hand slip into mine and turned to look at my partner.

"My Lady." A whisper as he pulled me close. "I think, sometimes, we forget the beauty that we see every day here in Paris. It's familiar, it's normal, but … it's beautiful. Just like you." My breath hitched in my throat. "Marinette."

I think I forgot how to breathe, how to think, how to anything. He knew. Chat knew. His eyes sparkled with the same brightness as his smile.

"I've known for a long time. How could I not notice the way that your tongue peeks out when you are concentrating?" A thumb brushed against my lips. "Or the little crinkle in your forehead when you trying to see what isn't working right?" A finger on the brow between my eyes. "Or the joy in your eyes when you are inspired." A hand cupping my cheek. "Or that your sketchbooks are always pink - in the suit or in class?" A smirk.

He paused, a small moment of worry passing his eyes before he took a deep breath and released his transformation. The flash blinded me for a moment and I had to close my eyes.

He waited for me to open them again, meeting brilliant green eyes. My brain was still frozen and part of me wondered if I'd ever breathe again. Adrien.

"Hi." Hopeful. Wonderful. Right.

"Hi." My voice wavered in return.

"You inspire me, my Lady. To see the beauty everywhere. To pursue what I love." Slowly he lowered himself to the floor, one knee bent as I stood there in surprise.

"Marry me, Ladybug."

It was all he had to say because the answer was yes. After all, what greater inspiration is there than love?