Because I'm Miraculous Trash and a sucker for mysteries.

This whole fanfic will be spoilers for those who have yet to see all of season 1. Best you come back after you've watched it.


Chapter 1: Curiosity Killed The Cat


Paris, the city of love.

Paris, the city of lights.

Paris, the city where rich depressed models like Adrien Agreste laid face down on a park bench in the middle of the streets.

Yup.

Nino sighed whilst opening a can of soda as he listened to his best friend mumble incoherent words, though if you could listen closely, you can hear things like, ''Damn photo shoots,'', ''Idiotic photographer- camera dude- whoever the hell he is'', and other words that would rather not be mentioned.

Truly, the kid was an angel at heart. He did his best to act like the perfect son, and would rather do whatever he was told than waste 4 useless hours of his life arguing with his father (Which Nino shamelessly admitted to almost doing once). But hey, he was a teenager, and teenagers were allowed to be frustrated and feel like they were ready to commit first-degree murder.

Specifically, right now.

''Stupid modelling, stupid cameras, stupid père, stupid life, stupid père-''

''Slow down, Monsieur Agreste. People are starting to stare, and it's not in the holy-shit-I'm-looking-at-a-perfect-human-being way for once.''

Ignoring the comment, Adrien continued to ramble. ''Why can't I just take a break for once and do what I want?'' He muttered under his breath for what may have been the millionth time. ''I ask for him to just give me enough time in the day to do something else other than strutting around and torturing my cheeks, but of course his stubborn ass just refuses to let me even though it won't interfere with my schedule-''

He'd dropped his Chinese lessons after he'd become 100% fluent, stopped piano as it eventually became boring and figured he could play every song in the book with his eyes closed behind his back, and as for fencing, well, he still took them because he needed to stay in shape- not like it was necessary anyways, his body always stayed in shape.

For once, his schedule was able to spare him more than enough time to take different jobs or hobbies. He absolutely refused to let Natalie fill in those empty time slots with more photoshoots and made up the excuse that he could die of stress and overworking (ironically his dad was at the risk of that 24/7) or whatever dramatic shit Chloé could probably think up of on the top of her head.

Freedom. That was what he wanted. The one thing everybody else had that he didn't. He was highly aware that he was being treated as his father's mindless doll, and he used to be okay with that as long as it made him happy, because his father's happiness was his.

Or at least, that's what he used to think.

''I'm 16 years old now damnit, I still shouldn't let him be treating me like this,'' He groaned. If he could convince his father to let him go to public school, surely getting a part-time job as a barista or something shouldn't be that hard right?

Nope.

He had tried everything. And by everything he meant everything. Bribery, puppy eyes, blackmail, even to the extent of begging on his own damn knees.

But of course-

''You are not like any other normal person. You are my son, Adrien, and what I say is best for you is final.''

Leave it to his father to shoot down a hundred birds with one stone.

''Dude, that sucks.''

''What, the fact that my dad shot me down, or the fact that I've become desperate enough to beg on my knees just to get permission for a job from him?''

''Both. But I guess the latter is leaning more towards the 'pathetic' side.''

''I hate you.''

''I'm glad we're friends too, man.'' Nino laughed as he patted the blonde with sympathy, whilst said blonde proceeded to bury his head into his hands.

''Hey, I'm sure it'll turn out alright. All you need is a little luck, yeah?''

''Are you seriously talking about luck being on my side?''

''You know what, I'll shut up.''

''Please do.''

School had finally let out, and though most students ran out the doors into the sweet, loving arms of freedom and most likely fulfilling their afternoon plans, the young model was just settling down and enjoying the rest of his short-lived moments before attending another photoshoot.

''You know,'' Nino spoke up, sipping his orange soda as he slouched on the bench, ''You don't really need your old man's permission to get a job.''

''Of course I do,'' The blonde quickly shot back, ''He'll probably go nuts if he finds out that his only son is working at a something as low as a coffee shop or whatever.''

His friend shrugged in reply. ''I don't know, man, I don't see the problem with making really good coffee. You'll probably need it soon, anyways.'' He pointed out, and before he could be cut off, Nino quickly took out his bag and pulled out large, rather unorganized pieces of paper, shoving them into Adrien's lap. ''Sides, It doesn't necessarily have to be a job as simple as that. Weird people are always looking for other people to do weird things for them. See what you find.''

Adrien tentatively glanced down at what he was handed. Newspapers? Since when did people still read newspapers? Scratch that, since when did people still read news on paper?

''Don't question anything, just look at the ads.'' Nino said, spotting the perplexed expression on his face.

He sighed in defeat. It probably won't hurt to see what it has to offer me, he thought wistfully, leafing through the pages lackadaisically as he caught sight of multiple requests that either A.) Didn't make sense, B.) Weren't too interesting, and C.) Was probably going to either have him arrested, drugged, or killed. Organizing them into these categories with a marker, he'd barely made it halfway through before he felt a familiar buzzing in his pocket.

''Shit, I have a photo shoot in a few minutes. See you later, Nino!'' He hastily shoved the newspapers in his bag and promised himself to finish reading them as he ran off.

''See you later, dude. Try not to kill yourself out there.'' The boy simply said in amusement.


Walking down the rather busy streets of Paris, Adrien rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to loosen the many knots on his nape. Biting his tongue to prevent himself from going on a cursing spree (specifically directed at that damn photographer) the second time that day, he simply decided to take in and appreciate the fresh air around him. It was nice to get outside and expose yourself to the sensation of cool winds, chirping birds, and chattering Parisians once in a while. Plus, he was lucky enough to convince the Gorilla to let him go home on his own instead of via limo.

Looking ahead of him and deciding that he probably wouldn't bump into anybody, the newspapers were pulled from his shoulder bag and he began to mark the ads once more. He brought it up to his face, hoping that the expressions he was making were hidden- scratch that- he would already be glad to succeed in making his face unrecognizable.

As he began to question to sanity of the employers behind the ads, a small bump in his stomach, albeit gently, caused him to lose his track of focus and direct his attention to what was in front of him.

Eyes widening to see an elderly man sprawled on his concrete floor, he immediately dropped the papers and bent down to aid the person.

Adrien, you idiot, his conscience scolds him, so intent on reading useless pieces of papers you forget about what's and front of you and now look you've done, you've caused a poor old victim to fall and possibly die-

''Sir, I'm so sorry,'' The young blonde sputtered, reaching for the fallen cane. ''I wasn't looking where I was going and didn't realize you were walking into me and-''

''Ah, it's alright.'' The man chuckled, accepting the hand that was offered to him and took the cane back from his helper. ''I suppose I wasn't paying attention either, I take part in the blame.'' He eyed the newspapers, which laid long forgotten on the side of the road.

Reaching out to them, he took them in his calloused hands and ran his eyes through the markings interestingly. ''Are you looking for a job? I mean no offense when I say this, but most kids your age go around signing themselves up in cafes or stores, not looking through the papers.'' He smiled, folding it up and handing it to the bewildered Adrien. ''Not like they're of use anyways these days, with you kids and your technology.''

Regaining his sense on consciousness, Adrien embarrassingly scratched the back of his shoulder (his neck was still aching, damn everything) and replied, ''Er- that's true, but my options are rather- uh- limited to something that isn't as...'' He racked his brains for the right word. ''Ordinary.'' He finished lamely, only the mentally whack himself in the head seconds later.

''I see,'' The elder mused. ''Well, I must thank you again for helping me up, young man. If by chance you're still looking for 'not ordinary' job, feel free to contact me. Also,'' He winked. ''I may be able to fix that neck pain problem of yours.''

Adrien, ignoring the shock, took the card that the man had seemingly summoned from nowhere and read it.

Miraculous CORP.

Now hiring!

Looking for experienced riddle solvers, danger enthusiasts, and massage experts!

Contact: Le Bal Café

P.S. Come in an animal costume of your choice!

Brows furrowed, he looked up with many questions swirling in his head, but was greeted with thin air.

Somehow sensing that the old man could still hear him, he shouted before walking off, ''I'll think about it.''

The newspapers were thrown in the trash later on.


''So, were they any help?''

''Somewhat.''

''C'mon, dude. Did you find a job you wanted or what?''

''Eh, sort of like that. The newspapers did help, though.''

''Awesome.''

''...''

''What's your job, exactly?''

''I'm not even sure yet,'' He admitted. ''One thing's for sure though.''

''I'll probably have trouble keeping my promise of not getting myself killed.''


So, how am I writing so far? Too much? Too little? Too many details? Not enough? Maybe I should extend conversations more or leave them out? Please review, your advice and comments keep me going.