Author's Note:

This has been sitting on my tumblr for a while, but I decided to do it, and all the other Tendencies Shorts up so they were good enough for here.

If you haven't read the Tendencies series, its starts with Obsession, then Glaze, then Quiver and you really do need to read them to understand these shorts. It starts of MariChat and evolves to a relationship fic from there.

There's a whole bunch of these shorts, from all over the Tendencies series, even a few that are way, way into the future. There's even some that tumblr hasn't seen yet. So, if you have any requests, please do let me know!

Why am I publishing these now? Well, recently I published my first novel and I wanted to make my readers were aware, because some of you have been waiting a very, very long time for my original work. You can find out information on my tumblr (same name as here, run a google search) it's on my sidebar or top bar depending on what device you're using). I am so so excited to share my original work with you.


Anyway, let me know if there's anything from Tendencies you want to see expanded or an alternative view on or just want to see in general.

Scritch is a prequel to Obsession, set just after Chat Noir's first visit to Marinette for scratches.


It was only supposed to be once. A sudden, desperate need which had been sated by clever fingers from a classmate who, he'd thought, had been in the right place at the right time.

Except, within a week, the itch was back. A niggle down his spine. A tickle between his shoulder blades. A spot he couldn't quite reach on his own and even when he did manage to find it with his fingers, it moved. Whatever this was, he wasn't supposed to be the one who scratched it.

"Just go back to that girl," Plagg advised, buried in a box of Camembert. "Marinette. She was good and she helped."

"Easy for you to say," Adrien muttered, lying flat on his back on his bed and resisting the urge to rub against the mattress to alleviate some of the cravings for physical contact. It wasn't overwhelming, but he knew… he knew it would become like last time. An unsuitable need that would send him careening across Paris in need of relief. "You don't have to look her in the eye the next day at school."

"It's not like she knows it's you. 'Sides," Plagg continued and gulped a large piece of cheese, then continued to talk around it. "Pretty girl. Scratches."

"I'm not going to use her," Adrien said. "That's not fair."

"Scratches don't mean anything to a human," Plagg continued.

"It means something to me. She put her hands all over me!"

Plagg smirked at him. "And you liked it."

He felt a flush creeping up over his neck. "What if I did? It doesn't mean it's right!"

"It's the nature of the kitty," Plagg continued, serious more serious this time. "Sorry, kid, there's no way around it. We like scratches. It doesn't matter who it's from. Anyone can do it. Nino. Alya. Your father."

That thought appalled him. "Oh. God."

"But if it really concerns you, ask Ladybug."

Adrien covered his face with his hands. "She'd do it," he muttered. "She'd do it to help me, but it… it wouldn't be right. She'd do it out of duty. But she wouldn't understand. She'd think I was making it up."

"And what? You think Marinette did it out of love? Don't be naïve."

Adrien sighed. "Marinette's too sweet for her own good."

"It doesn't hurt to ask," Plagg said. "Preferably before the need gets too great and you can't explain things to her. She's already done it once."

Adrien wrinkled his nose.

Plagg smirked and floated toward Adrien. "Unless you want me to scratch you."

"Oh. God. Plagg, Claws out."

He found Marinette was on her terrace, bathed in starlight, and tended to the few potted plants she had. Crouching near the edge of the roof of the school, Chat Noir watched, still unsure and nervous. He couldn't just land on her roof and ask for scratches. Could he?

"Excuse me, Marinette, but this kitty has an itch which needs scratching and your hands are purr-fection."

Nope. He couldn't. Couldn't do it. It was too embarrassing. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he closed his eyes. He'd just have to find another way to deal with this. Somehow. There had to be a way. Past Chat Noirs had to have dealt with something like this, he just had to bribe Plagg with enough cheese to get an answer out of him.

The space between his shoulder blades have a restless twitch, but he could ignore it for the moment. He couldn't do subject poor Marinette to his stupid cat side-effects.


His eyes flashed open to see Marinette tilting her head at him. She looked confused as she glanced up and down her street before her eyes travelled back to him.

He cringed. Busted. Swallowing, he ran along the side of the school until he had the speed to launch himself over the street and onto the railing of her terrace. There he paused, crouching. "Um…"

She looked concerned. "Is anything wrong?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No. Not exactly."

She cast a glance around, looking out into the cool Parisian night. "An akuma?"

"No. I… um… I came to see you." Hopping down from the railing, he crouched by it.

Bewildered, she asked, "Why?"

He dropped his eyes and completely forgot what he was going to say. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

She eeped and dropped her little watering can. Her entire face went red. "What?"

He cringed. As Adrien, he was pretty sure she didn't, but he didn't know for certain. She always was so terrified to talk to him at school. "Sorry. I just… last time I came here— and I… I realised… that what happened could put you in a little bit of… um… trouble. If you were… attached."

"Oh!" she squeaked and scooped up her watering can so she could place it on the small bench beside her plants. "Um. No. I mean… well, there's a guy I like, but he doesn't… he doesn't see me… So… No. No boyfriend. No trouble."

He thought about that. "So, my princess has a blind prince?"

Her face discovered an entirely new shade of red. "You could say that. Wait, your princess?"

He dropped his eyes and didn't reply. The itch between his shoulder blades grew and he wriggled.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. "You seem… tense."

"Um… this is… this is really awkward and kind of strange… but… and I can understand completely if you say no. But… um… it really… it really helped last time and so I was wondering… if you… could you… um…" He couldn't ask for it. Not really. Scrunching up his face, he lifted a hand and battered at his fake ear.

"Oh!" A soft movement and Chat Noir opened his eyes in time to see Marinette fold her legs gracefully beneath her until she sat on the floor of her terrace. "Of course."

"Really?" he asked, shocked. No questions? No concerns? Just yes? What did he do to deserve this sort of acceptance?

With a smile, she beckoned. "Here, kitty-kitty."

Regardless of the poor taste of her humour, he bounced over to her. Stopping just before her, he all but thrust his head into the palm of her hand.

With a giggle, Marinette buried her hands into his hair and Chat Noir closed his eyes. Deft fingers, she remembered from the last time. Nails dug into his skull, hard enough to please the itch, but not hard enough to cause pain. He led her, as much as he could, angling his head and pushing against her fingers.

But Marinette… Marinette. She didn't listen to his coaxing. She had an agenda of her own and that was to tease and tempt him. He lolled his head and pushed into her hand and as he did that, a finger stroked him on the chin and suddenly that was more interesting and he had to have more. But she took her hand away, put it somewhere else and he followed.

His face rubbed against her shoulder and he wasn't sure why he did that. Something about marking sprung to mind, but he didn't care. She was magnificent. The face rubbing continued, up her shoulder, to the crevice of her neck and he breathed in her scent.

Did she mind? He didn't know. But she wasn't pushing him away. It even seemed like the pressure of her fingers on his head allowed for his face rubs.

It was astounding how much her attention relaxed him. He wasn't even really aware of what his body was doing, he was so focused on following the pressure (pleasure) of her fingers. She didn't make a single noise of protest when he crawled into her lap and flopped so his chest was against her knees. The only thing she did was change the spot she scratched him.

Scritch, scratch. The base of his neck. Behind his ears, both real and fake. Fingers against his skull, extending and flexing as they covered as much of it as they could. Fingers that found the sweet spots against his head, beneath his chin. Down the middle of his spine. Scratchy little fingers that bestowed their attention on every single vertebrae along his back. That delighted and explored and…

That spot. That spot was like lightning. It sizzled through him, sparking up his spine, right down to his toes. A purr burst in this throat, pouring from his body like silk. He arched, desperate for more. Harder. Firmer.

Please. Right there.

And then her touch was completely gone. And he mourned.

"I'm sorry!"

Chat Noir blinked and looked at Marinette's horrified face. Another blink and he took in the position of his body. Of his hips. Of how his torso pressed against her knees, but his legs were fully extended and his hips were… his butt was…

Oh god.

"I didn't know!"

He was stuck. His legs didn't want to lower.

Eyes wide with horror, all he could do was stare at her. "Um…"


Gulping, Marinette scratched him beneath the chin and Chat Noir flopped as his muscles turned into goo. She stopped and he scooted away from her, staring wide-eyed and completely embarrassed.

"I didn't know," she said, not quite looking at him.

"Me either," he replied, not quite looking at her.

She cleared her throat. "Um…"


She puffed out a breath. "I didn't know you could purr."

He snort-laughed. "Me either."

"You're… that much of a cat?"

"Yeah. I guess. It's… my kw— it's a side effect of being a hero."

Marinette nodded, her expression veiled. "So… the pats are... it's helping you, right? It's something you need?"

He swallowed and looked away. "Yeah. But…um… I mean… I can…" Why was it so hard to explain without giving too much away? "I can get them from anyone, but yours… yours are… I trust you."

"You do?"

He snorted. "Can you imagine if I went to Alya and demanded pats like any other kitty might? It'd be up on the Ladyblog the next day and Ladybug'd never take me seriously again."

Marinette giggled. "Well, there is that."

"I understand if you don't want to. It's… a lot to ask and… I mean… "

She seemed to come to a decision within herself. Throwing her shoulders back, she said, "Well. I'll just stay clear of…um… the small of your back…"

His eyes shot to her.

She gave him an unsure-but-game smile. "And we never mention that spot again."

He was purr-fectly okay with that.