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Chapter Text

Arielle dashed down the hallway of the lycée. Her papers fluttered dangerously as they peaked out of the folders in her arms, threatening to fly out with one wrong gust of wind. She didn’t stop to adjust them. This was her first solo teaching gig ever and damn it she wasn’t about to be late. As she approached what she hoped was the right classroom, the first thing she heard was arguing. At least, it sounded like arguing. It was either that or an unnecessarily loud conversation. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she was forced to break up a teenage fight. Die, probably, Arielle thought grimly, already regretting her career choice. 

She stumbled into the classroom with only a moment to spare. The moment she finished huffing and puffing from exhaustion, the bell rang, indicating the start of 1st period. All at once the voices stopped and all eyes were on the new teacher as she adjusted her blouse awkwardly. She attempted to smile at the classroom, but it came out rather strained. 

“H-hello class,” she stuttered. Arielle winced. Great start. “I am your substitute Madame Legume.” Only one person- a tall, athletic looking boy who had the tips of his hair bleached blond- laughed at her name. She waited, but no one said anything. A blonde girl in the front row examined her nails in disinterest. “Uhh, your teacher said she left instructions on her desk…” Arielle set down her folders, looking over the oddly neat desk. Much to her dismay, there were no other papers on it. She picked up her folders desperately, but the instructions weren’t hiding under there either. She was on the verge of panic when a female voice spoke up.

“It’s here, Madame Legume,” a pretty student said sweetly, lifting a paper over her head. The student stood up and walked towards her, so Arielle met her in the middle. She took the paper gratefully. 

“Thank you Mademoiselle, uh…”

“Dupain-Cheng,” the girl responded. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Class representative and student body president.” She shot a smug look at the green-eyed boy who sat in front of her. 

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Sham election.”

“I saw some other students messing with the instructions Madame Courir left, so I felt it was my responsibility to keep it safe,” she said. She walked back to her seat and shot a condescending look at the green-eyed boy. She didn’t sit down yet, like she was enjoying the height advantage. He narrowed his eyes.

“I saw it fluttering so I was trying to keep hold of it so it wouldn’t fly off,” he huffed. 

“Right,” Marinette said disbelievingly. “In that case, you could have just put a paper weight on it.” 

“That’s what I was about to do before you snatched it from me!” the boy shot back, growing increasingly irritated with his classmate. Arielle looked between the two, unsure what to do. A good teacher would cut in, right?

“Maybe we should just-”

“Puh-lease,” Marinette interrupted. “You were just trying to get a peep at the lesson plan so you could edge me out in class today.” She turned towards him and planted her hands on her hips. “Why won’t you just accept that that’s never gonna happen?” The boy scoffed. Beside him a student in a red cap sighed in resignation. Several other students looked just as exasperated. Clearly this wasn’t the first time the two had had this argument. 

“Never gonna happen?” he questioned. “I do better than you in class almost everyday!”

“We both know that’s not true,” she growled. “You’re such an imbecile.” The boy stood up. 

“Well, you’re a brown-nosing little flea!”

“Daddy’s boy!”

“Yeast head!”

“ENOUGH!” the curvy brunette who sat beside Marinette exclaimed as she slammed her hands on the table. The two immediately stopped arguing. Arielle sighed in relief. “You two are so ridiculous! Can’t you get along for like 5 seconds!?”

“No!” they shouted at once, but oddly enough they both backed down. They shot each other one more meaningful glare before sitting down simultaneously, arms crossed like toddlers who’d just been scolded by their mother. 

Arielle was still for a moment longer before realizing this was her chance. “Er- right,” she said. She scanned the lesson plan. “Take out your books and read… chapter 23. You’ll be discussing it tomorrow in class.” She smiled at them before plopping down in her seat with a huff. 

This… was not going exactly as planned. Arielle rubbed at her temple. A shadow overcame her desk and she couldn’t help the fear in her eyes as she looked up. The brunette who had stopped the argument was standing before her, hand outstretched.

“Alya Césaire,” she said. “Assistant class representative.” Arielle hesitantly shook her hand. “Listen, there’s a few things you should know in case this experience doesn’t totally scare you off and you’re ever a substitute here again.” Arielle blinked, then nodded for her to go on. “There are a few long-standing rivalries in our class,” the honey-eyed girl continued. She gestured to a short, pink haired girl and the tall boy who had laughed at her name earlier. “Alix and Kim. They’ve been rivals forever. Since kindergarten PE I’ve been told. Their rivalry is mainly athletic, and doesn’t get that vicious until right before a competition. I’d just avoid any classroom competitions that might spark a bet between them. One of our substitutes decided ‘trashketball’ would be a good idea to review chemical nomenclature and we’re still finding stray paper balls in the science room.” Arielle nodded along. She’d come across students like that before back when she was a TA still working on her degree. “Juleka and Nathaniel,” Alya turned her attention to a goth girl and a boy with the most vibrant red hair Arielle had ever seen. Both students were half hidden behind their hair. “We found out a few years back that in 7th grade they started a bet about who could say the least in class. I’m not sure who’s winning. I haven’t heard either of them speak a full sentence in class for 2 years. Don’t call on them if you want more than a vague mumble for an answer.” Alya pointed to the blonde girl in the front row. “Chloe Bourgeois. She’s clashed with just about everybody over the years, but especially with me and Marinette. We never took her crap. She’s cool now though as long as you don’t mess with her proclaimed bffs: Sabrina-” she pointed to the girl sitting next to Chloe “-and Adrien.” She gestured to the green-eyed boy from before. “Which brings me to the worst rivalry of all. Adrien and Marinette. Those two have been at each other since a misunderstanding in 8th grade. Long story short, Marinette was led to believe that Adrien put gum on her seat- which he didn’t- and from then on she’s been nothing but hostile towards him. Adrien responded in kind. They’ve long since forgotten about what even started it all but Marinette’s unbelievably stubborn. They bicker all the time and they’re constantly trying to one up each other in everything . Academics, sports, heck even humor.” Alya chuckled lightly, seeming to remember something. “Their pun battle was the only enjoyable argument they’ve ever had.” Arielle nodded, looking between the two students that had been arguing so fervently mere moments before. They were both buried in their books, very clearly ahead of all of the other students. Every so often Marinette would look up to take a peek at Adrien’s, scowl, and return to her reading, going even faster this time. 

“Is that all?” Arielle asked. Alya thought for a moment. 

“Well, she’s not here right now because she’s off on some trip to help build houses for homeless people but Marinette also has a bit of a one-sides rivalry with a girl named Lila,” Alya explained. “No one really knows why Marinette hates her so much. My best guess is because Lila’s attached herself to Adrien. Between you and me, Lila has a bit of a crush on him. It’s honestly very sweet.” Arielle cocked her head.

“Marinette seems to have a lot of rivalries,” she commented cautiously. “Is she-? Well, I mean does she tend to…” Alya raised one eyebrow.

“Bully people?” she prompted. Arielle nodded. Alya chuckled and shook her head. “Not at all. I’m a bit biased since I’m her best friend, but you can ask almost anybody here and they’ll tell you that Marinette’s the sweetest human being alive. She’s constantly helping people and sacrificing her time for others. Marinette cares so much about everybody here. She’s just overly vicious to those she perceives as bullies, and she’s not always the best at figuring out who the bully is.” 

“So Adrien isn’t…?”

“Far from it,” Alya confirmed. “He’s the sunshine child of the class.” Arielle dropped her chin into her hand. 

“Seems a little odd,” Arielle said, examining the two. They were both exceedingly attractive for their age and exuded a sort of innocent kindness. From what she’d found out so far, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why they of all people would be so hostile towards one another. “Based on what you’ve told me, they should be dating, not fighting.” A voice brought their attention back to the students in question.

“Stop peeping at my book, ma petite puce,” Adrien said, not even looking up from his book. Normally calling someone ‘ma puce’ was an endearment, but Arielle had a feeling that was not Adrien’s intention. 

“They’re the same book, it’s not like I can cheat by looking at it!” Marinette replied irritably. 

“Yeah, well you’re never going to surpass me if you spend all your time reading my page numbers.”

“I’m not reading your page numbers!” 

Alya scoffed loudly, turning back to the substitute. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

Chapter Text

Marinette stared at her computer screen anxiously. She reloaded and reloaded and reloaded and-

“Girl, relax,” Alya said from behind her. “There’s still plenty of hours in the day. I’m sure you’ll get the email later.” Marinette groaned, face planting onto her desk.

“This is killing me, Alya,” she complained. “How am I supposed to know if I don’t win? They only said they’re notifying the winners.”

“Which means you’re getting an email,” Alya said confidently. Marinette sighed, twisting around in her seat. 

“It’s useless anyways,” Marinette said, already preparing herself for disappointment. “I’d have to beat all the other young designers in Paris, then in France just to make it to Milan.” Alya rolled her eyes as her best friend.

“What other up and coming designers have your talent?” Alya asked. “And before you argue with me, let me just remind you that you’ve designed for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Adrien Agreste-”

“I did not design for Adrien,” Marinette protested. She would not have her good name tarnished with such misinformation. Marinette would never design for that dimwitted blond.

“Then explain to me why he walked down the runway wearing a Marinette original bowler hat,” Alya retorted, pointing to a magazine on the wall that pictured a blonde with his face scribbled out in sharpie, sporting said bowler hat. 

“I didn’t know he’d be the one modeling it when I entered the competition,” Marinette grumbled pathetically. Alya laughed, checking her phone. 

“Come on girl, we’re gonna be late if we don’t get going.”

Marinette sighed. “Do we have to go? I don’t really feel like swimming today.”

“You need to get out of your little pink hole in here before you drive yourself mad,” Alya admonished. “You remembered to get dressed, right? Don’t want you running out in pjs again.” Alya looked at her up and down teasingly despite the fact that the noirette was very clearly not in her pajamas. Marinette scowled.

“That happened one time-!”

“And people still think you’re Adrien’s girlfriend!” Alya giggled at the memory of the incident that had haunted Marinette for months. Her friends teased her endlessly. 

“I tried to get away from him, I swear!” Marinette exclaimed. “Those fans are complete monsters!” With a grin, Alya looped her arm through Marinette’s, practically dragging her from her seat. 

“Thankfully this time you’ll be with me and not Mr. Famous.”

The two girls headed out, waving bye to Marinette’s parents as they left. As expected, the walk to the pool was much less eventful than that day a few years prior that Marinette had been forced to run for her life to escape Adrien’s rabid fans. Though the worst part definitely had to be being forced to spend so much time with Adrien. Marinette shivered at the thought. 

They quickly arrived at the pool, since it wasn’t too far from Marinette’s home. She had the amazing fortune to live in a really nice part of the 15th arrondissement that was near the movie theater, the school, the pool, the park, and basically anywhere else she might need to go. 

“Hey girls!” Alya called as their friends came into views. All of the girls from the class were there, plus Kagami, who had over time integrated herself into the friend group through her friendship with Marinette. Marinette had been wary of the fencer when she’d first met her, since it had quickly become obvious that Kagami had a bit of a crush on Adrien, but they’d bonded after being paired up in a competition for a chance to meet Jagged Stone. Marinette already knew Jagged Stone so she really was just doing it for fun. It paid off when Marinette found she had made a brand new friend in her partner. 

Marinette cringed a little as the girls came into view, but it was only because of one particular girl. 

“Lila’s back?” she whispered to Alya, knowing full well that the liar had never left. Alya nodded.

“Yeah, she landed in Paris this morning,” her friend replied. Marinette rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t do any good. “Try to be civil,” Alya said, noticing Marinette’s suspicious gaze. Marinette huffed.

“No promises.”

The girls greeted them. “Hi Alya, hi Marinette!” Lila said. Her voice was cheery but her eyes were sharp as they landed on the noirette. Marinette ignored her. She’d learned long ago that confronting the liar wouldn’t help one bit. Lila was too good for that. 

“They’re the last ones, right?” Chloe asked in an annoyed voice. “I’m getting pretty sick of standing out in the sun like this and I’m pretty sure it’s melting my hairspray.” Marinette didn’t think that hairspray could be melted, but she didn’t argue with Chloe. 

“Yeah, yeah, princess ,” Alix said. “Let’s head in before we ruin Chloe’s precious hair. It’s too beautiful to risk, after all.” They all knew full well she was being sarcastic, but Chloe grinned nonetheless.

“Damn right.”

The girls shuffled in, giggling and chatting animatedly. They headed to the dressing room to change. Each girl was already wearing a bathing suit under their clothes. They all matched their personalities perfectly of course, especially Rose’s blindingly pink one-piece. The girls gasped as Marinette shed her t-shirt to reveal her cherry-blossom adorned bikini.

“Mari, that’s so cute!” Rose gushed. The other girls agreed, circling around the blushing designer. 

“Did you make that yourself?” Mylène asked. 

“Yes,” Marinette said sheepishly. “It was my first time making a bathing suit. It was a little tough at first because I’ve never worked with this kind of material before, but I liked how it turned out.” 

“You’ve been making a lot of clothes lately,” Alya noticed. “I think you’ve practically replaced your entire wardrobe.” Marinette nodded.

“I had a lot of old clothes I didn’t want anymore,” she explained. “I donated it all, but then I realized I’d gotten rid of half my closet. Naturally I had to replace it.”

“And with stuff much less trashy too,” Chloe snarked. These days Chloe refused to be obviously nice, but there was always something genuine hidden behind her words. Marinette knew the blonde well enough to know her comment was the highest of compliments. 

“How did you afford all those supplies?” Sabrina asked.

“I’ve been saving up for something but I realized I had enough that I could put some of it to use for some much needed new clothes,” Marinette explained.

“Saving for something?” Lila questioned much too innocently. Marinette stared at the other girl suspiciously.

“Uh, yeah, but it’s hardly for sure yet so I shouldn’t say anything,” Marinette answered. “In fact, it probably isn’t even going to happen.” The other girls peered at her curiously. 

“Aw come on, just tell us,” Alix said. The others chimed in with their agreement. Marinette shuffled awkwardly a little before responding. 

“Well, Alya knows about this, but I entered this fashion competition,” Marinette said. “The results for the regional competition will come out today, and if I win I’ll move on to the national competition where I’ll get the chance to go to the International Milan Youth Fashion Showing. It’s a really big competition. Some of the biggest names in fashion today were discovered at past Showings.”

“That’s so amazing Marinette! I’m sure you wowed the judges with your submission!” Mylene said.

“Yeah, you’ll definitely win!” Rose added. Marinette shook her head.

“Even if I did, there's still several more levels of competition, so it’s really more of a fantasy,” Marinette said. “But if somehow I do get to the Showing, I’m gonna need money for the trip. The flight itself shouldn’t be too much, but I also have to worry about food, hotel, and all that. It’s a week-long trip. Not to mention I need the money to construct my entry to the national competition just to have a shot at moving on to Milan.”

“So remind me again why you spent all that money on remaking your closet?” Alya asked teasingly. “Is this typical Marinette-ing?”

“First of all, my name is not a verb,” Marinette said, feigning offense. “And I refuse to let you make it into one.”

“Stop Marinette-ing then.”

“ Second of all, ” Marinette continued. “I really did need the new clothes. When I cleaned out my closet, I realized why it feels like I wear the same outfit everyday. Most of the stuff in there was ancient. And it was totally worth it to make it all myself because now all my clothes sport my signature cherry blossoms. It’s very cohesive.” 

“Because that’s the most important thing about clothing,” Chloe responded sarcastically.

“Yeah, ok Ms. Wears-yellow-literally-every-day,” Alya shot back.

“...Fair enough,” Chloe conceded. 

“Anyways, I have a plan,” Marinette said. “If the time comes, I’ll have the money I need.”

“A foolproof plan or a yeah-this-might-work-but-probably-not plan?” Alya asked suspiciously. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“A foolproof plan,” she said. “As long as I don’t have to make any big purchases anytime soon, I’m all set.” Alya shook her head subtly at the other girls to indicate she didn’t believe Marinette at all. Marinette still noticed and smacked Alya in the arm playfully. 

A loud ‘ding’ rang through the dressing room. Immediately, Marinette shreaked, diving for the phone that was tucked into her purse. She scrambled for a moment and nearly dropped her phone but as she found what she was looking for, her eyes widened in shock.

“I got an email from the competition,” she practically whispered.

“What?” Alya asked.

“I GOT AN EMAIL FROM THE COMPETITION!” she screamed in excitement, causing a few heads in the dressing room to turn her way. Marinette squeaked and tried to hide her face behind her phone in embarrassment. Chloe huffed.

“Well don’t leave us hanging. Tell us how you did so we can hurry up and get to swimming, or in my case sipping on some champagne in the hot tub,” Chloe said, pulling out a flute of sparkling pink alcohol.

“Where did you even get that…?” Alix asked. Chloe ignored her question, instead taking a sip of her champagne with reverence. 

Marinette opened the email, unconsciously holding her breath. She didn’t say anything for a moment.

“What does it say?” Alya asked, trying to wrestle the phone into her view. It was easy to outstrength the designer who had fallen into a shocked stupor. “Dear Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” Alya read dutifully. “On behalf of all the administrators and judges at the International Milan Youth Fashion Showing Paris Competition- Stars that’s a mouthful- we would like to personally congratulate you for winning 1st place in the regional competition!” All the girls instantly broke out into cheers.

“I knew it!”

“Great job Marinette!”

“You better make it to Milan, Dupain-Cheng. Can’t have you giving Paris a bad name.”

“ Wow, that’s amazing Marinette. ”

“We can’t wait to see what you bring to the International Milan Youth Fashion Showing French National Competition,” Alya continued. “Goodness, it gets worse. They really need to come up with an abbreviation.” Alya pulled Marinette into a one-armed hug. “Congratulations girl.” Marinette blushed.

“Thank you everyone,” she said, barely holding back a grin. “Come on, let’s swim now to celebrate!” Marinette led the still cheering girls out of the dressing room. 

She didn’t notice the way a certain olive-eyed, sausage-haired liar hung behind for a moment, a contemplative and devious look on her face. 

Marinette was still high off her success the following day at school, so much so that she actually said “good morning” to Adrien when she inevitably ran into him in the hall. Marinette walked past him towards the classroom, slightly regretting her choice and not wanting to be caught in a conversation with him, but the boy followed alongside her. 

The blond cocked an eyebrow. “Is the world ending? Since when do you wish me a good morning?” Marinette frowned, but refused to let him ruin her good day.

“I wasn’t wishing you a good morning,” she corrected. “I was saying that I am having a good morning. In a way, it’s a comment born from spite.” 

“Right, in that case, beyond beautiful morning to you too,” he replied cheekily. 

“And what do you have to be so happy about?” she asked, a little annoyed that her rival dared to be happy on the same morning as her. It was irrational, but she refused to acknowledge that. 

“I won that big fencing competition,” he said. “You should know. You were there cheering me on.” He flashed her an irritating smirk. Marinette scowled.

“I wasn’t there to see you ,” she corrected. “I was there to root for Kagami.”

“Who’s on my team,” he reminded her. 

“Which is the only reason you won,” she shot back.

“Need I remind you that I won best in competition?”

“I refuse to accept the validity of that title.”

“Then I guess I’ll just refuse the validity of whatever’s making you happy too, if that’s how that works,” Adrien said. 

" Casse couille ." 

“Thanks, you too.”

“Congratulations,” Marinette said with a huff. “You’ve successfully ruined my good mood.” Adrien grinned.

“That’s what I’m here for, ma puce.” Marinette hated that nickname. She didn’t understand why it was used as an endearment. Who wants to be called a flea?

Thankfully, they arrived at the classroom shortly thereafter. Marinette tore away from Adrien snootily, ignoring his snickering. She plopped down in her seat with an annoyed huff.

“Whatever Agreste did this time, I don’t want to hear about it,” Alya said preemptively. Marinette rolled her eyes but honored her friend’s wishes. The poor journalist had been on the receiving end of her Adrien-fueled angry rants more than enough times. Having nothing else to tell Alya about, she just sat silently and waited for class to start. She didn't want to, but she couldn’t help hearing bits of the conversation in front of her.

“-mean you can’t go?” 

“Father says I’ll be too busy,” Adrien replied.

“But the dance is over a month away,” Nino argued. “How can he possibly know that?” Adrien shrugged.

“I have a busy life,” he said. “I pretty much have plans everyday.”

“It’s just not fair,” Nino muttered. Adrien snorted.

“I don’t understand why you’re still surprised every time my father says I can’t do something,” Adrien said. 

“Because it’s totally uncool!”

“Just try not to get akumatized into the Bubbler for the 12th time,” Adrien teased.

“Ok, that is nothing compared to Mr. Pigeon, so I consider myself lucky.”

The two continued to shoot playful jabs at each other, but Marinette found herself caught up in thought. She knew Adrien didn’t have the greatest father. She and Adrien never really talked unless they were arguing, but it was hard not to know. Gabriel Agreste was an elusive man and if he had his way Adrien would be seen in public as rarely as he was. Still, it was the last school dance of Adrien’s last year of lycée. Surely the famous fashion designer could make this one allowance?

“Thinking about your submission to the National Competition?” Alya asked, snapping Marinette back to reality. Marinette blinked. 

“Uh, yeah,” she lied, ashamed to have been caught sympathizing with Adrien Agreste of all people. If anything, she should be happy she didn’t have to deal with the blond during the last school dance of her last year of lycée. She resolved to let herself celebrate her win in the fashion competition and forget about Adrien altogether.

That night at patrol she thought about Adrien. It’s not like she cared whether or not he went to the dance. In fact, it would be better if he didn’t since he was such an insufferable, spoiled, rich jerk, but it was the principle of it! If he wanted to go, he should be able to go!

The sound of metal-tipped boots landing on the roof behind her brought her out of her thoughts. She grinned.

“Bonjour, mon chaton,” she greeted, turning to see her partner. Chat Noir smiled back at her.

“But it’s la nuit, not le jour,” he replied. 

“So you already want me wishing you goodnight?” she asked. Chat gasped.

“Of course not m’lady!” he exclaimed, as if the very idea offended him. “I want to spend every moment I can with you. Don’t tell Carapace, but you’re my best friend.” Ladybug laughed. 

“You’re mine too, Chat,” she said, cherishing the way Chat Noir’s face brightened as she did. She wondered what she would do if she didn’t have Chat. He was her rock, the shoulder she cried on, and one of her favorite people in the entire world. She had Chat in the mask and Alya outside of it, and they were basically the greatest, most reliable friends ever. She didn’t know how she got so lucky.

Maybe it was the whole Lady Luck thing. 

“What are you thinking about bugaboo?” Chat asked. Ladybug realized she’d been silent for a bit too long. She smiled. 

“Just thinking about how much cooler you are than a certain casse couille,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. Chat chuckled.

“Blondie get on your nerves again today?” he asked. Chat Noir was well aware of her troubles with a certain Agreste, not that he knew that the blond she’d been complaining about was Adrien. She still had her identity to think of after all. 

“He is such an imbecile,” Ladybug lamented.

“What did he do this time?”

“Just ruin my good mood,” Ladybug shook her head. “And make me feel bad for him.” She shivered at the thought. Chat Noir raised one eyebrow.

“That’s new,” he commented. 

“I mean, it’s not the first time,” Ladybug admitted. “It’s hard not to feel bad for him once and a while. He kinda has the world’s shittiest dad.” Chat Noir didn’t say anything to that. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a total spoiled brat. Sure, he hardly ever gets to hang out with his friends, but he has basically everything else he could ask for. And daddy problems doesn’t mean he gets to be a jerk. And an obnoxious asshole. And an egotistical, dimwitted di-”

“I think I get the idea,” Chat interrupted. An unreadable expression came over his face. “Have you ever thought that maybe you just don’t understand his situation? I’ve known people like that and they can change.” Ladybug thought about Chloe, who had become loads more tolerable and an almost kind of fun friend over time. 

“I… guess,” she conceded. “But until then I reserve the right to call him out on his crap,” she quickly added. Maybe she was being stubborn, but Adrien deserved it. Plus, it felt weird to even think about being friendly with him. It just… wasn’t normal. Who was she to disrupt the status quo?

Chat Noir shrugged, and didn’t try to convince her any further. “I get it, I got my own blondie,” he said. “Except she’s got black hair.”

“The blue-eyed girl?” Ladybug asked. Chat nodded. “Blue eyes, black hair- I’m starting to think you’ve been secretly complaining about me this whole time.” Chat Noir laughed.

“Ah, I could never complain about you Bugs,” he said. “Never in a million years.”