Marinette

Marinette looked down at her phone as she hurried towards the café close to her office. She was really pushing it for time, but she had to keep moving, she couldn't afford to stop. She tapped the screen on her phone as she weaved through the crowds moving at a pace far too slow for her liking. She looked up once more at the clouds and she was sure she only had mere minutes until the heavens opened and an afternoon downpour coated Paris. She hadn't even got an umbrella.

There was only a few metres left to go until she was at the café. The plan was simple; quickly grab her usual caramel latte and make it back to her workspace before she could look tardy.

Just to clarify the situation, she wasn't always late, it's just sometimes things got in the way... things such as battling akumas as Paris' famous superhero, Ladybug. Though she could always use the excuse of the akuma attack as a reason for her late return to the office, it was getting a little suspicious that after every single akuma attack she was at least 15 minutes late.

Chloé Bourgeois — the mayor's daughter — had been in Marinette's collége class growing up and due to the overwhelming amount of akuma's deriving from the class, majority being Chloé, the Mayor had created the Paris wide 'Akuma Policy'. Anyone caught in an akuma attack could not be fired or given a tardy notice for at least 20 minutes after an attack; this gave Marinette a short window to get herself back to her desk.

Quickly moving in the right direction, a tingling sensation started in Marinette's arm and she couldn't help but fear she was having a heart attack from overworking herself. Her crime fighting partner, Chat Noir, told her she needed to calm down a little and not spend so much time in the suit — and he was right. As much as she hated to admit it, her partner was right; but Ladybug was her life, heaven knows nothing else was happening for her. She'd been coasting along since she was 14 years old. Missing out on opportunities and not taking chances, she was a let down with everything except her extra-curricular activities.

The buzzing continued, Marinette looking down to her hand and noticing that her phone was ringing; her best friend's face smiling up at her as her phone rang out.

Alya 🦊

Pressing her thumb against the green answer button, Marinette almost dropped the phone as it made its way up to her ear, her thick rimmed glasses being knocked in the movement.

"Hey, Al." She pushed her glasses back up her nose and continued her assault course around Paris' tourists.

'Have you got time to talk?' Her best friend responded, obviously realising Marinette was rushing her way back to the office.

"I have about," Marinette pulled her phone from her ear to check the time, noticing she had a good 20 minutes until she was expected back at her desk, and as long as no akuma appeared this was going to be easy. "I have time."

Without warning, Marinette crashed into a couple walking just ahead of her.

"Sorry," she hollered as she quickly glanced back over her shoulder, stumbling once more from the off balance movement.

Her feet continued to stumble forward, Marinette cursing her heels as she almost ended up sprawled out on the floor. Why did she wear these damn things when she knew she couldn't walk in them?

'Who have you just almost killed?' Alya laughed on the other side of the phone, Marinette really not finding it funny. Her friend was always laughing at her clumsiness and Marinette couldn't help but wonder what Alya would think if she knew Marinette was actually her polka dotted idol.

"I'm okay. So why are you calling?"

'I wanted to see how you got on meeting Kitty Section.' The teasing tone in her voice didn't go amiss and Marinette responded with an eye roll.

Kitty Section were the new up and coming music superstars. The main guitarist was the son of rock super legend, Jagged Stone, and brother of a girl she went to collége with. She hadn't realised the latter fact until she'd arrived on their boat for their meeting regarding costumes.

Marinette had been lucky enough to work — incognito — for Jagged Stone a couple of times in the past, so when Kitty Section were about to embark on their first European tour Jagged had recommended Marinette to do their outfits, and if the 25 year old wanted to move out of her parents home anytime soon then it had to be a yes, revealing herself and her skills to the city.

"It went fine. They've commissioned me for one outfit with the possibility of more if they're happy with the first."

'And Luka Couffaine?'

It wasn't news to anyone that Marinette had a slight crush on the guy. He was charismatic and charming, and even though Marinette had never met him face to face that didn't stop her from fantasising. Meeting him hadn't changed much about her perception. She didn't like him anymore or any less; he was still just a celebrity crush like she once had on XY (until she met him) and Adrien Agreste — her boss's son.

"He seemed nice. I kind of made a mess of myself though and stumbled on saying my name—"

The sound of chuckling came through the speaker, Alya obviously finding her plight amusing once more. A sighed 'oh, girl!' Hit her ear and she knew she was right.

"It's okay though, he was sweet."

'So did you get his number?'

"Pfft, of course not. Like I could have asked Luka Couffaine for his personal number."

Marinette was sure she heard a face palm on the other side of the phone.

'Girl, I can't deal with you anymore. You meet XY and complain about him; you say you can't ask Luka for his number even though you're now working for him! And you work in the same building, and for the same company as Adrien Agreste; yet, you hide every time he visits your department. The amount of times you go to the toilet he's going to think you have some sort of IBS, and no guy wants to date that.'

"Adrien Agreste doesn't date girls like me anyway, so I have zero issue with him thinking I'm lactose intolerant or have a strange reaction to chicken." Marinette pushed through a couple more people before quickly ducking to the left and entering her usual coffee shop.

'Do you usually have issues with chicken?' Alya continued. Marinette waved to Nathaniel behind the counter as she entered, making her way to the collection side of the counter and removed the phone from her ear – Alya still rambling on the other end. Pulling up her app, to let them know she was ready to collect before positioning the phone back at her ear.

The only thing Marinette Dupain-Cheng was consistent with was ordering her coffee on the mobile app so she didn't have to wait in the queue. One of the only positives to come from modern technology.

"Nope, I can eat chicken just as well as the next person."

'I'm happy to know that.' A chuckle left her friend's mouth as Marinette looked down at her black pencil skirt and white blouse. She always dressed simple and sophisticated for work, not wanting to overdo it but opting to blend in rather than stand out. She'd been working at 'Gabriel' for just under a year, and although she was only a seamstress she saw it as a step in the right direction.

Everyone had to start somewhere right?

The clanging of the chimes above the door sounded and a familiar voice churned her stomach inside out. Of all the coffee shops in Paris, Chloé Bourgeois just had to walk into hers. Marinette, immaturely, turned so her back was facing the door and winced as the click clack of Chloé's shoes allowed her clarity to where the blonde was moving. If she pretended she was invisible, she'd stay that way. Right?

"Nathaniel, darling, can you give me my regular and for this handsome fellow —"

"Just a caramel latte, please."

The voice was deep, oozing with masculinity, and slightly familiar.

'You still there, girl?'

"Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?"

As Alya repeated something about Luka and Marinette's epic failures in love, she couldn't concentrate. Instead, she was completely taken by the sound of the male's voice behind her. The smooth, honey tones soothing her from the inside out as he made every word sound like it was the first time anyone had ever said it.

Could you fall in love with someone because of their voice?

'You're really not listening to me are you?' Alya sighed into her ear.

Shaking her head, Marinette tried to gather herself and move away from the fantasies of 'sexy voice' man ending back in the conversation with her best friend.

"Sorry, it's just –" She quickly glanced over her shoulder at her old acquaintance before lowering her voice to speak to Alya. "Chloe's in here and she's flirting with Nathaniel."

'Does she not know that he's still with Marc?'

"The problem is, I think she does." Marinette moved a little more towards the side as the clacking heels of Chloe's shoes approached her on the collection side.

"Oh, god she's getting closer. What should I do?"

'Come on, Marinette. It's been years. She didn't even realise you still existed at the end of lycée. After you picked up your diploma she asked you how things had been in Shanghai.'

A sigh passed through Marinette's lips, the memories of past encounters with Paris' number one social lite returning along with the shock she'd received when Chloé had questioned her about schooling in Shanghai and what it had been like to live in a different country. She hadn't the heart – or courage – to tell Chloé that she hadn't actually left Paris, that she'd remained in the same classes as her all through lycée sitting only two rows away. So instead, Marinette made up some stories about adventures with friends and mumbled her way through the conversation. She hadn't seen Chloé face-to-face since.

"Come on, at least give me a smile." Chloé's high pitched voice had her squirming as she grew closer and closer.

"Alya, I'll call you back," Marinette whispered down the phone.

'Before you cut me off, let me text you Juleka's number – I think I've still got it. That way you can text her for Luka's.'

Wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible, so her talking didn't draw unwanted attention to herself, she agreed to have Juleka's number; however, what she did with it was yet to be decided.

Ending the call with a quick 'okay', she slipped the phone back into her bag beside her sleeping kwami and kept one ear on the conversation now directly behind her.

"I am smiling." Mr Delicious's vocal cords said. Goodness, she could just imagine the rich, deep velvety sound serenading her. Each and every line caressing her body and wrapping her in warmth and lust.

This guy should read 'special' types of audiobooks, Marinette swooned.

"Oh please! You're being ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. If you call that a smile I dread to think what your frown is." Chloé didn't seem to be giving up and Marinette wanted to turn around and tell her to leave him alone. Unless...

What if Mr Honey Tones was actually Chloé's boyfriend? Oh no! She couldn't be fawning and falling for Chloé's boyfriend just from his voice. What the hell was wrong with her?

Along with that, a guy who hangs around with Chloé Bourgeois wouldn't want to be acquainted with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was a mess, and if it wasn't for Ladybug helping to give her some sort of achievement she would literally have nothing to her name. Well, nothing people know of.

"Chloé, can we just leave it please? Last night was hell and I don't really want to relive it."

"You shouldn't have gone out with her in the first place. I don't understand what the hell was going through your mind! Lila Rossi of all people! You're lucky I haven't disowned you."

Lila? Lila Rossi? Marinette only knew the girl as one of Gabriel's models. She was faintly aware of the girl in collége, but as far as she knew, Lila had moved to Italy to continue schooling before going into modelling. She didn't realise there had ever been anything with Chloé.

Marinette never had anything to do with Lila before or now, and in all fairness she seemed interesting. She lived a life Marinette could only dream of and even though Marinette worked for Gabriel, she was low down on the floors meaning she didn't really deal with the likes of Lila Rossi — or Adrien Agreste.

So, he did date girls like Chloé! He dated models. Suddenly it felt as though someone had grabbed a bucket of ice cold water and threw it over her — bucket following after to add insult to injury. Why had this affected her so much? She didn't even know the guy, but someone else having him and dating him just didn't sit right with her.

"I didn't have a choice. Psycho father, remember?"

Chloé's witch-like cackle echoed through the room. "I wish you'd stand up to him face to face. You're so funny when you talk about him behind his back."

"You only find it funny because you don't have to like him."

"Neither do you! You're 25 now, you need to cut ties!" Chloé stated.

Marinette was tempted to find some popcorn and pull up a chair. This was better than any soap opera she'd watched recently.

"By the way, did the wicked witch of the west come home with you last night?" Chloé asked, Marinette grimacing at the thought.

"Hell no! What do you take me for?"

"Thank God! That would have been ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!"

Marinette felt her insides shrivel at the catchphrase that she linked so closely to her detrimental childhood. The words Chloe would say after handing her a box of spiders, tripping her on the stairs or filling her locker with frogs.

"You know no one sees my apartment. It's my safe space," Mr Honey Tones was growing more and more mysterious by the second.

"I don't understand why that means me too, Adrikins."

The next thing that happened almost had Marinette groaning. The man – Mr Honey Tones – laughed. A laugh an angel couldn't claim as their own. It was full of joy and fun, making Marinette want to turn around and join in with the joke, imagining the laugh was for her because she was the funniest person he'd ever conversed with in his life. Instead, she just had to stand here whilst he laughed with (or at) Chloé Bourgeois. Some girls had all the luck.

"Chloé, as much as I like you, my apartment is just that – mine! If you came around, you'd change everything, and it's perfectly me at the moment."

"Perfectly you!" Chloe sounded disgusted causing Marinette to wince. What was wrong with him? Suddenly her perfect man had become unperfect. Was he into some weird fetish or something? Maybe he had artwork of nude models plastered all over his walls? Or maybe ... yes ... maybe he was disgusting and had mouldy plates and bowls laying around everywhere, new forms of life growing from the mould in his mugs. Yes, that had to be it! Mr Honey Tones was actually Mr Messy Pants.

"Does that mean you have your childish games scattered around the place?"

"How dare you!" The man jested, the amusement in his voice causing Marinette's lips to twitch. She needed to see this man, she'd probably regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't. His voice continued and the words just made everything all the more sweeter. "I'll have you know Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 is a classic. Who doesn't love the game?"

Marinette had to hold back the next groan bubbling in her throat. Ultimate Mecha Strike... honey voice... What else was this person hiding?

"Let me guess, you have that ridiculous poster from Jagged Stones fifth album on your wall too."

Fifth album? Fifth? The one she'd designed. Marinette almost fainted on the spot.

"It's a work of art Chloé, you know that. Plus it's signed by the artist too! It's worth a fortune."

"Yeah the artist who no one knows."

In all her life, her heart had never beat this hard or fast, and considering she was a superhero who put her life on the line almost daily, that was saying a lot.

The thud only continued to increase as the guy sang her praises. Words such as 'incredibly talented' and 'I'd love to meet them face to face one day', only slightly touching on the words of endearment he was sprouting about her. The temptation to turn and say 'it's me' grew increasingly tempting; however, she knew it would be futile. Regardless of whether he believed her or not, she was a hundred percent sure his drinking partner would be in the latter camp. Once Chloé put two and two together and figured out who she was, Marinette would be dismissed faster than a bad singer on a talent show.

"Come on, she has true talent — undeniable talent."

"How do you even know it's a she?"

Clenching her fists, Marinette rubbed her fingers into her palms, coating them in sweat as she waited for an answer. Nobody knew she was the brains behind the design, wanting to keep herself out of the limelight and away from anyone discovering her identity. Mr Stone had promised her that; that no one would know Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the artist.

"I may have used my name to get me a little info."

Oh God! What else did he know?

"What else do you know?" Chloé asked as though reading her mind.

"Just that... and that she's the same age as us. Just think Chloé, you could have been at collége or lycée with the girl. I know it's not a lot but it's better than nothing, right?"

A sharp sounding exhale came out behind her, and Marinette could almost feel the hush of wind from the hair flick.

"So what are you going to do? Speak to every girl in Paris who is 25 years old? Come on Adrien, you're living in a dream world."

No, you're not, she thought, I'm right here waiting for you. This was almost too good to be true. Whoever this guy was — although friends with Chloé Bourgeois — he was a caring man, a hot caring man. Yes she'd only heard his voice, but it was the way he spoke each and every syllable with care — especially those about her.

"What if she's as ugly as a troll's doll? What are you going to do then? You're an A+ you can't go lower than an A."

An A+. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Unease sat in her stomach. He would most certainly be disappointed — she was nothing more than a solid B. Maybe if she made a little more effort once in a while she'd reach a B+, but she'd never reach higher than that. Her heart sank and her little dream bubble popped. Oh, well! At least she had a voice to add to her fantasies now. One she could input into Adrien Agreste — a fantasy she'd never reveal to Alya.

"You know it's not all about looks. Whoever designed it has a deep soul and a story to tell. It's obvious."

"You're such a sap! Honestly, Adrikins, sometimes I wonder why we are friends."

"MDC and AA."

Nathaniel's voice halted her eavesdropping, pulling her back to the present and what she was actually there for. She quickly glanced to her side, noticing Chloé's glowing hair still stood in the way of her and her drink. Damn it!

Moving like a crab, she awkwardly side stepped towards the counter, keeping her back to where Chloé and mystery man were. She must have looked insane but as long as Chloé didn't notice her it was going to be okay. She would just grab her drink and go; maybe she'd give Mr Honey Tones a quick look over as she left just to settle her curiosity.

Phase one complete. She was at the counter, now she just needed to...

Stretching her hand up towards the where her drink sat on the top of the counter, she kept her head at a strange angle, making sure Chloé wouldn't notice her.

Her hand moved closer and closer and closer until...

She let out a screech as her hand touched something that was warm, but certainly not the paper containment of the coffee cup. It was soft and squishy... and human.

Recoiling her hand as though electrified, Marinette turned her head to see what she had touched.

The 'what' quickly became a 'who'!

Everything froze from her head to her toes, everything that was except for the hard pounding in her chest and the breath leaving her lungs in an overdramatic exhale. Her eyes met with emeralds; precious jewels she wanted to catch and carry home with her; to keep in her little chest pocket as a secret she held close to her heart.

They were exquisite. She'd only ever seen green eyes on one other person. On one other man. On one other crush.

Her boss's son stood before her, eyes wide and mouth open and she'd never felt more exposed... or clumsy.

Moving too quickly, Marinette stretched to grab her drink and get out of there. Away from Adrien Agreste's magical stare.

Shit!

Trying to snatch her cup and bolt out the door, Marinette realised the predicament she was in. Her hand was progressing too fast and not to the right cup. Finally, turning her head she realised the barrister had put them in the wrong hands, her own heading for AA instead of MDC.

A quick flick in the opposite direction; a reach out to her own coffee cup was unsteady and uncoordinated. The start of her crash and burn — burn Adrien that was — as her hand hit the cup and sent it flying in the direction of her boss' son; top loosening and hot liquid making its great escape.