A/N: I was looking at the Miraculous Fluff Month prompts when I saw Day 11's prompt, which was first kiss. I thought about doing something different from what one would usually think about when we usually think of a first kiss featuring Adrienette, and I eventually ended up using one of my old ideas on how Marinette would get images flashing in her head randomly (if i tell you more though, it would be spoilers) and created this monster.

I'm thinking that it could be a two-shot or a three-shot. I am not exactly sure at this point.

Marinette was clumsy but for the wrong reasons.

It wasn't that she lacked coordination, by any chance. No; when she set her mind to it, she had the capacity of being extremely graceful, or so she had been called.

She still remembered taking gymnastics as a little girl. The coach had showered her with praise, excitedly talking about how she could create a star out of the blue-haired six-year-old within ten years time, all the while spewing the word like it was the answer to all of her problems. The amount of gushing and expectations (that had been already set ridiculously high) had only increased as the years went by, she remembered with both fondness and a bad taste in her mouth. Fond because she was able to push her body to her limits and be around girls her age that wasn't Chloé, bitter because throughout these years of being constantly pushed to her limits, Marinette regularly faced envy and jealousy from her fellow classmates.

Gymnastics was part of what had made Marinette Marinette, from the sheer dedication and work ethic she possessed when determined, to her overly accommodating nature that always put others above herself first.

However, outside of gymnastics, she always had and still did trip in midair or wandered about with a "lost look" in her eyes, as everyone liked to say, with seemingly no apparent purpose to outsiders. When contrasted with the seemingly effortless grace she possessed in competitions, this unexpected clumsiness, as people liked to call it, only served to baffle people. How could, they thought, such a talented gymnast be so clumsy?

Some people thought her clumsiness outside of gymnastics as endearing, while those with more malevolent emotions towards the bluenette claimed that she had been only doing this to get attention, and Chloé had definitely been part of the latter.

However, Marinette did not blame them for being so surprised. One time, the designer had almost walked in front of a red light. Had her best friend Alya not yanked Marinette back with a certain kind of practiced panic in her face, Marinette would have been roadkill - literally.

Such happened so frequently that the red-head occasionally joked that being Marinette's best friend required one to be somehow related to a bodyguard. Whether that meant that the person was a family of one, was one, or had been one in a past life, it did not matter. The only thing that was required of them was to "protect precious Marinette" from getting "steamrolled by the cold, unfeeling world," as Alya had said to the blue-haired girl on a slumber party night.

Of course, Alya did not actually believe in past lives and only had mentioned that in passing, as her best friend was one of the most practical people Marinette had ever had the pleasure of meeting. But ever since Alya had uttered those words, the concept had fascinated the blue-haired girl and created a fire within her, a fascination that always seemed so out of reach to fulfill yet always there.

She had never gone out of her way to research about reincarnation or any other popular theories, however. She was perfectly fine with not knowing whether or not reincarnation held veracity. She was a simple girl with a simple life, she liked (and simultaneously disliked) to tell herself. Thus, she didn't need to know the deep mysteries of the universe. She only needed to know the ones that mattered to her, were her own deep secrets of her own universe. Whether or not that coincided with the "truth" was an afterthought to Marinette, and so she had never been the one to subscribe to all the works on spirituality.

Many would have considered her a fool who just didn't want to face the truth had they learned this about her. However, Marinette didn't really care about those haughty opinions. She doubted that everyone could have the exact same truth when each individual's experiences were so different from one another, after all. Everyone had basic commonalities, yes, and there was a likelihood that there would be one cohesive truth that tied everyone's truth together. The only difference in each person's interpretation, then, would be the fact that they were accessing the truth from a different angle. But what difference was there if yin and yang were the ultimately the same? People saw them as opposite forces, and if one didn't dig deep enough to see that it was, indeed, ultimately the same, they fervently believed in duality. Plus, the more general you became, the less personal and warm it became.

And as Marinette was a simple girl with a simple life, personal was practically her middle name.

In fact, she sometimes hated the fact that she took everything so personally. When a baby cried in the street after she had walked by them, she would think to herself that it was her doing. When a girl in her gymnastics class had given her the stink eye (which was likely from unwarranted jealousy, a fact she had to remind herself every time she beat herself up about these kinds of situations), she would immediately think to what she had done wrong to warrant such a response. When a ball was suddenly thrown from the left field of her life, she chastised herself for not seeing the hit coming when, looking back, it had been so obvious.

Even when Alya consoled her, saying that Marinette couldn't have possibly seen that coming and that it was truly unexpected to everyone, it did not help the bluenette feel any better. Expect the unexpected, the famous saying went, and Marinette always tried her hardest to live up to that motto. She had to be prepared for everything, at least mentally, because if she wasn't, she didn't know what she would do. She hated to even think of accepting the fact that there were always going to be unexpected situations in her life, no matter how much she could expect. So, she fervently denied it.

However, if one looked at her life in depth, even the mere thought that Marinette didn't accept the unexpected would have been laughable.

Because like the saying that went "the only constant in life is change," the only constant in her life was the unexpected.

There just wasn't another way to explain it. How was one to explain otherwise the visions that suddenly flooded her mind whenever she was working on a design, running to class late, or doing just about anything, really - including breathing, eating, and pooping? Maybe dreaming was the exception, but she didn't think that one counted.

And what frustrated her to no ends was that there was no pattern in when it appeared and what appeared in her mind's eye. She had had visions that she traced back from the fifth century to something that could only be described as the future (how else was she supposed to explain flying cars?), and they were never thrown together chronologically but always haphazardly, as if a movie maker had gathered the footages for a montage but had misplaced the script that contained the directions, and so had thrown together whatever it was from panic.

Wait, No. Scratch that.

There was one pattern.

But she wasn't sure if she should appreciate this one familiar thing in the sea of unfamiliar. After all, this didn't make the situation any less complicated.

In fact, this situation made her even more confused. It made her head spin with all her speculations as to why such visions were being shown in her head than giving her the answers she desperately wanted.

Because how could one not consider the concept of soulmates if the only unifying theme in all her visions was that she was either waiting for somebody or had someone by her side?

It was either that, or the universe was trying to punish her for being single…

By flooding her mind with couples doing couple things…

Yup. She was probably right on this.

Like with the settings, her appearance (from what she could gather from their eyes) and her partner's always changed in her visions. In any of them, she saw how the height and body of the ones beside her constantly changed and how it moved differently from the one before. Different bodies, different people.

However, there was another strange pattern in all of this, she noticed now: she never could see her partner's face nor her own when it was reflected in rivers and mirrors and the like.

Something about the face was off limits to her, for whatever reason. The face, when she believed that she was finally able to see them, somehow blurred in edges and color as the face became a terrifying mosaic of a humanoid blank face.

It was as if even daring to find out their faces was a huge crime or sin.

When she had seen that, Marinette had been, at first, expectedly, terrified. She had cried and wished for the visions to go away, for it to never return from her life like an abandoned broken record ever again. She remembered that she had been eight then, and she had tried telling her Maman about the problem. Her mother had only rubbed not-so-soothing circles on her back and cooed at Marinette that it was all just a dream and that those things don't exist, and maybe this had been when she had realized that none had her experiences. Whichever way, however, Marinette had refrained from even getting close to seeing the neck, when suddenly, with the onset of teenage puberty, she felt a seething fire in her that threatened to tear everything down - or at least die trying.

She was never a rebellious kid when she had been young. On the contrary, Sabine and Tom had always been praised that her daughter was so well mannered. But something about this, something about the visions made her not able to stand the prospect of losing even more than she normally did.

And so, reflecting her skin that was popping up acne in rebellion to all the hormones her body was producing, Marinette had tried desperately to look at the faces whenever she got her visions.

It had turned out splendidly, she so very much liked to remember. And by splendidly, she meant not well at all.

It was only after around her twentieth try that she had realized that her visions were, in a way, a force to be reckoned with. She had known this before, of course, and had been fearful of what gruesome images her young mind could create for herself. However, after fighting it for so long, Marinette had gained a very strange sort of respect for the visions that were swimming in her head that she had never possessed before. She still couldn't control it, of course, as they were truly unpredictable. They came at random intervals of the day, on random days of the week, at any random moment with random images from a random time period. However, she was able to cope with it far better than she had ever had, never fearing it for what it was, just letting it come and go.

She didn't know when she had figured out that no one else but her had these experiences. Maybe it was obvious with how no one else around her seemed to trip on their own two feet, or maybe it had taken her a traumatic encounter with someone to finally piece together the truth. However, Marinette did not remember the time she had learned this fact. Maybe it had been from very young like when she was maybe four - even as young as two. Maybe it had been when she was thirteen. Maybe she had always known that she was different. She wasn't sure.

Sometimes, she wished that someone could share her inner freakishness with her. But then, she would set that frosty sentiment aside. She wasn't sure if she wanted to force someone into the kind of the more terrible visions she had experienced in her past. Pre-teen and puberty had not been fun years for Marinette; one was not a personal person without almost fainting at the vision of blood from a war at the hearty age of eleven. It had visibly shaken her up, and the worst thing had been that she couldn't even tell her parents what it had been about.

Because the truth was, she didn't know what any of this was about.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the one who was cursed to have such visions in the first place, did not even understand what was happening to her mind after living inside it for eighteen years.

And that thought was enough to send her into a frenzy, a kind of existential crisis that ranged from questioning her sanity to whether or not anything existed in the world. Was she just… she didn't know, a puppet that was doing the bidding of something bigger than herself? Or was she even existing?

Then, she would lift herself back up from where she had been, cutting her string of thoughts. She shoved it to the back of her mind, where she thought that it would never have the audacity to show up to her conscience ever again.

Of course, Marinette's life was never hers without something unexpected happening in her life, and so she grappled with the invasive and corrosive thoughts sometimes when she had too much time on her hands.

No. Marinette decided. She would not want to wish that onto another person.

But then again, who guaranteed that their mind would work the same way, even if they had the same problem as she did?

Who guaranteed that they would have mind problems like her and react the same way as she did? Marinette was famous for spinning webs of her own demise, and her "clumsiness" did nothing to alleviate that.

Could be coping with it a lot better than she ever had.

They could also be better hiding their freakishness, she supposed, that made people not look at them with strange looks in their eyes.

But if they could, were they really like her? How would she know that they had the same experiences as her, in a similar way?

She pricked the needle on her index finger, the pain snapping her out of her thoughts. With a huff, she inserted her finger into her mouth and licked the bleeding with her tongue, soothing and cooling the pain with her saliva. She glanced a look at the half-finished bowler hat, her entry for the Gabriel contest. Luckily, creating clothes and hats were second nature to Marinette that she could space out for enormous amounts of time without making any fatal mistakes, but she had just pricked her finger - something she hadn't done for a while. Fearing and panicking over the fact that she might have to do it all over again - and the deadline was three days later, which meant that she would in no way be able to finish if she screwed this one up - she checked the hat just in case any mistakes in putting on the feather had been made. She only satisfied herself when she rotated the hat twice - no, three times - and saw no flaws.

Sighing of relief, the designer consumed herself into her work yet once again, only this time forbidding her thoughts from wandering. She hummed and sang to keep herself grounded, not wanting a repeat like last time.

She finished the bowler hat at one in the morning, her eyes widening when she finally looked at the clock. Was it really that late? She had thought that - no, she decided that the clock was working perfectly fine, judging from how dark her window was - it was only nine PM or so.

She had been too preoccupied with the bowler hat, it seemed. She had started at six PM, but she didn't even remember so much time passing by. And she thought nine PM was being generous!

…

…

...

She had skipped dinner again, hadn't she?

Unlike the visions she had while she was awake, however, Marinette knew that her dreams were nothing special. She occasionally got outlandishly vivid dreams every once in a while, but they never had the emotions that were attached to her visions. Her visions only flashed by her, the sight and emotions disappearing as soon as she blinked, leaving her disoriented when it did finally end. In contrast, her dreams were honest, they were fluid, and they were predictable.

She always had a hunch on what her dreams meant, in great contrast to her visions. And if she was confused on what to think of her dreams, she just Googled dream interpretations, read the symbolisms, and worked her way from there. She found it reassuring that the deep part of herself that she was so fully acquainted with was unpredictably predictable, unlike the predictably unpredictable quality that her visions had. Thus, she considered her dreams like a puzzle. It was begging to be cracked, to reveal bigger truths about herself. As for the visions, they were a mystery, an unknown that she didn't know if she wanted to crack open.

Thus, she went to bed dreaming of a world where her outer world was like her inner world.

"Marinette! Wake up!" the voice invaded her dreams. "We need you to do some errands today, dear. You're going to be late!"

The eighteen-year-old girl yawned as she detangled the sheets. "Coming, Maman!" she said, as she made her way down to the kitchen. Eyes drowsy and half-asleep, Marinette munched on her croissant with loose fingers around her breakfast, slowly opening and closing her mouth repeatedly to chew. The gesture felt unfamiliar to her, even though she had woken up late on mornings and ate croissants like this more than she could care to count. Her mouth felt dry as she chewed the food, and she felt as if she was poisoning the poor croissant with her bad breath.

After three-quarters of a way in into her croissant, her mother handed Marinette a piece of paper.

"These are the ingredients that we need you to pick up today," the petite Chinese woman said. "Think you could handle it?"

Marinette looked at the list. It was heavy, but she had grown up carrying bags of flour. "Of course, Maman," she smiled.

"Thank you, Marinette," Sabine said and pulled her into a hug. Marinette let herself relish the warm embrace of her strong mother; her small frame only belied how truly strong she was.

Her mother was the first to pull away. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked Marinette. "Go!"

Marinette smiled at that. She walked towards the door, which was not too far away from the kitchen. "Bye, Maman," she waved.

"Come back by dinner time," Sabine smiled. "And eat it this time, please?" she teased.

Marinette's cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "Bye, Maman!" she slammed the door. A flutter of noises and crashing ensued.

"Ah," Sabine sighed into her tea and shook her head fondly. "Kids."

She shook off the sand in her foot as she dusted off the spotted dress that went down to her ankles with her hands. Her jet black hair followed the wind's motion.

It was as if even her body was pointing towards the other side, toward her other half. To make sure that he was alive, that he was alright.

But, she bit her lip, no. She had to trust him.

However, when sunset came, her worries only grew.

"Plagg!" she yelled into the other side of the river. She walked as close to the water as possible without getting wet. "Plagg! Are you there?"

Uncertainty plagued her. Had he made it out safely? What if he had…

Marinette tumbled down the blurry stairs, crashing into what felt like a wall. After a whimper of pain, she uprighted herself and dusted her white, long-sleeved off-the-shoulder peasant top and pink jeans. She even dusted her black belt just in case. Then, she remembered the piece of paper that had the list of supplies the bakery needed and sighed with relief when she found out that it had not been too far away from her.

What was that?

She had never had a vision that had been longer than a second, and this one had been almost three! Not to mention the fact that this one had spoken!

She… she had never had visions that had spoken before. No, she had thought that her visions were like a long-running silent film or a collage of pictures. Quiet, maybe sometimes moving but not significantly, and always in the first person.

She speculated what this could mean for the entire ten-minute walk to the store.

The trip did not take long, she supposed as she carried the bag of flour that threatened to uppercut her chin. She raised up her right hand where her pink purse, which she had made a few years ago, was threatening to escape from. Consequently, the purse fell back closer to her elbow, only to slowly climb down to her wrists as she walked.

She hummed quietly as she made her way back to the bakery, her purse swishing to and fro as she evaded the typical pedestrian traffic in Paris. She was a quarter done with her errand, she thought with glee. If she hurried, she might be able to hit the fabric store and get the supplies for her newest dress.

Fantasizing about a romantic ball where she would wear her (soon-to-be) newest creation, Marinette was not looking where she was going (instead, hoping that others moved for her) and slammed into a tall body, both colliding to the ground with their hips from the shock.

"Sorry, sorry!" Marinette squeaked. "I-should-have-been-looking-where-I-was-going," she said the words in rapid succession.

"N-no!" Marinette didn't know why, but the voice was familiar to her. "I should have been the one paying attention." The comfort it provided to her was jarring; it was as if she had known the voice all along.

They both raised their heads up to see each other. Marinette gasped.

The man - or boy? He looked around the same age as her - had blond hair that glistened from the sunshine as his clear green eyes danced with surprise. He looked at her up and down, as if in disbelief, and just stared at her, astonished.

Something about the male in front of her screamed that he was familiar to her, that she had seen him before - no, it was more than that. It was as if she had known who he was - mind, body, and soul - and she knew that he knew who she was. It was a very strange and hard feeling to describe, but Marinette felt comforted by his presence; it was as if an ice in her heart that she hadn't known existed before was instantly thawed by meeting him face to face, eye to eye. She felt that whoever this man was, he was important in a way she did not fully understand herself.

The way he gaped at her also gave her the strange feeling that he felt the same.

He blinked once. No, twice.

She stared into his eyes, which were a lovely pure color. There was no saturation at all, and the green only made the irises stand out even more, giving his eyes a magnetic and overall appealing effect.

It was the kind that the fashion industry craved for.

She tried to give a smile to him when a succession of images flashed in her mind, which she all recognized as having appeared in her visions before. It made her head swim with dizziness and her body sway back and forth.

Thankfully, she didn't collapse and her body stood upright, but that was because of the man in front of her, who was steadying her by the arms.

The places where he touched her burned.

"You-uh… you okay?" he breathed. He had steadied her with his hands.

She nodded absently. Her eyes held no light because of the sheer shock her visions blinded her.

"Uh…" he scratched his nape, cheeks reddening. "That's good. I-uh…"

However, she didn't hear what he was saying. She turned the other way and ran.

"Wait! Where are you going?!" he called after her. "Wait! I need to speak to you. You… no, uh... Ma… Mari... Marinette!"

What?

Did he just say her name?

But that was impossible… he… he just met her! How the hell did he know her name? She didn't have a name tag on her, and Marinette wasn't a common name at all!

Was he a stalker? How much did he know about her? Oh god, what if he was in love with her? Would he ransom her family with the price of her marriage?

"Marinette, please wait!" the man called after her. It sounded desperate, with a hint of fear of abandonment that couldn't possibly have developed with just this meeting.

His voice only made her run faster.

Nothing else abnormal happened afterward, which Marinette thanked the heavens for. She had had enough of the weird today.

Whatever had happened back there - whatever it was - had been unpredictably unpredictable. She had never thought that multiple visions could flood her mind, never mind the fact that they were all old ones! She always was bombarded with new ones as she went on in her life. Why was this one different?

She went to bed, her thoughts rustling in her head as they numbed her head to sleep.

She was on a boat, looking out at the city. Her head was leaned back onto a shoulder, and her shoulders leaned on his arm. They were warm and snug here, looking out at their city and watching the rays of the sun hit the buildings as she yawned into the sunset. The man sitting next to her wrapped an arm around her shoulders and chuckled, his shoulder moving up and down as he did.

It was of the unrestrained kind that she loved to see on him, which were nothing like those model smiles that he put on for show. He was beautiful like this, she thought as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. And she was incredibly lucky to be able to see it.

He rubbed his nape in that characteristic and endearing way that revealed embarrassment, and his eyes spoke of worry but also determination.

She briefly wondered what he had to say that would make him so flustered, so red in the cheeks, when he spoke.

"So, uh, Marinette-" the man began to speak. "I know that I should have asked you this a couple of dates ago, but uh…"

"Yes?" she asked, her head still on his shoulders.

"Would-you-be-my-girlfriend?" he said in rapid succession.

At the words, her breath hitched and her heart beat faster. Even though they were in the Seine at six thirty in the morning, both almost about to pass out from their lack of sleep, she was warm in her cheeks and everywhere else.

She beamed.

She knew that she was his and that he was hers. He knew it too. But to make it official…

"Yes, Adrien," she breathed. "Yes."

She uprighted herself from her mattress, trying to make sense of just what she had dreamed.

What… what had just happened?

Why had she dreamt about that man? The man she had bumped into yesterday? She had seen the dream so vividly that she could still remember it, and she was very sure that she would remember it for days, if not weeks.

She groaned. There was no way that she could have a crush on him. Sure, he was good looking, but that mattered none! She didn't even know what the guy was like, whether he was nice, or anything! She knew nothing about him, save for that he knew her name for some creepy reason!

…

How did he know her name?

And why had she had those visions right after she had bumped into him?

… it was a coincidence, right? It had to be! They literally had just bumped into each other. And besides, no one so far in her life had triggered her visions; they were just random. That was the rule for her visions: be as random as possible.

But why had she dreamt romantic fantasies of him?

She wanted to die in shame.

With the utmost care, Marinette wrapped the box and taped the address on. When she was satisfied that the paper did not look crooked or bent in any corners, she picked up the box and hugged it to her chest. Even though she didn't think that the judging committee would even look at the packaging, the presentation was important, and she hoped that they would like her design.

A deep sigh later, she picked up her phone with the other hand and dialed her best friend.

Ring…

Her best friend picked up on the second ring.

"Alya?" Marinette asked.

"Marinette? What's up?"

"Well…" Marinette began. Tapping sounds were heard from the other side of the phone. "I finished my bowler hat for the Gabriel competition," she began.

"Great!" Alya beamed. "When are you going to turn it in?"

"Right now. I finished packaging it. I licked the stamp and everything," she chuckled nervously. "Can you come over?"

"Of course!" Alya said as the phone hung up.

Marinette smiled as she pressed the end call button. She was extremely lucky.

Having Alya by her side, even when her best friend was not giving encouraging words to the designer, always gave Marinette an extra boost in confidence.

And this was definitely the time that Marinette needed Alya by her side.

Marinette stared at the box, which was nestled safely in her arms. She then looked up to see the mailbox, which was looming over her.

It was so big.

Too big for a simple girl like her.

She then looked out of her peripheral vision for her best friend, who had that ever encouraging smile on her face. "Come on, Marinette!" Alya said excitedly. "I can't take the suspense."

"But…" she looked down at the box again. "What if it's not good enough? What if it gets damaged on the way there? What if it-"

"Girl," Alya rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that Gabriel would not let that happen. You're fine, girl! That hat is one of the best hats that I have ever seen in my life, and I know that this is one of your best creations. Just believe in yourself," she grinned, touching Marinette's shoulders for comfort and support.

At Alya's encouraging smile, Marinette felt her lips tighten up.

"Okay." Marinette decided and took a deep breath. She huffed it out of her nose, relieving her stress at the same time as she did the carbon dioxide. It would have been comical, the sheer volume of air she emitted, had it not been under such situations. "I'm going to do this."

She heard Alya squeal.

Slowly raising her shaking hands and ignoring a sudden slam in the brakes nearby (she hoped there wasn't an accident), the designer paused at the opening. It was big enough for the box to fit, she knew, but was it big enough for the company?

She closed her eyes and pushed the package in, letting her hands do the work.

The inside of the mailbox rattled in a satisfying thump thump thump. Thump thump thump, her heart still went.

At the sound, her mind finally registered what she had done. She broke into a huge grin.

"Alya!" Marinette giggled as she jumped up and down. "I did it!"
"Yeah, you did it, girl!" Alya grinned as Marinette leaned into Alya's space to give her a hug. Alya immediately reciprocated the hug, and Marinette leaned her head slightly into her best friend's shoulders, facing the neck.

"Thanks to you, Alya. I don't know if I would have even lived without you calling me in the night to remind me to eat," she chuckled at the memories.

Alya laughed. "Someone's gotta watch out for you."

Marinette laughed at that.

But she was snapped out of her reverie when she saw a figure standing stiffly in the streets from above Alya's shoulders.

It was him.

She didn't know why, but he looked… uneasy and uncomfortable.

She broke off the hug and approached him with wariness.

"Hey," she said with worry. "Are you okay?" She frowned.

His shoulders were too stiff, his hands were too close by his sides, and his frown-turned-grin was too wide. His eyes occasionally darted back to a silver car, which she guessed was his ride.

"Of course!" he said a little too loudly and enthusiastically as his eyes darted back to the car. "I'm doing great. Why wouldn't I be?"

He's terrible at lying and hiding his emotions. She mentally put that information away.

She chastised herself. What was she putting that away for, exactly?

"Okay," she said, still not convinced. She gave him a reassuring smile. "I hope you feel better." Stupid, she thought to herself.

The man only gave her a shy smile. "Thanks," he said with a forced grin on his face. "But I-uh, I need to get going." He walked over to the silver car, which was not that far away from him. But he paused. "I'll see you later, Marinette?" he said with some uncertainty in his voice.

"Uhhhh…" she began. "Okay," she finally said.

She was immediately pulled back into her mind after his driver had driven away with him in the backseat.

What was that?!

After having a fun girls' night out with Alya and remembering to eat dinner, Marinette ate a light dinner and climbed into her bed smiling, suffocating her face in her pillow with the glee that she had yet shedded from her system.

She had submitted her entry for the Gabriel competition, and now it was finally out of her hands. She just hoped that they would like it; she had spent two hours gathering feathers.

She removed the pillow from her face and set it aside, letting her thoughts stray towards the strange blond man. Why had he been so upset? Was he okay? Was it something that was only temporary or was it something ongoing? Was he unhappy in his life? If so, why?

And he had been so hopeful that he would meet her again that she couldn't refuse him when he was making his way to his car. Maybe he lacked company? Was that it?

And was he someone important or something? Normal people didn't ride around the streets of Paris with drivers. Most chose to walk, take the subway, or use the bus. But he was in a fancy looking car with a driver at his beck and call.

He likely was rich.

Then wouldn't he just hang out with other rich people? Why would he want to hang out with her?

How far did he go to know her name?

Why her?

She was just a baker's daughter. She assumed that the wealthy would stalk the wealthy while the simple would stalk the simple.

It made no sense; none of his actions made sense.

She fell asleep trying to make sense of it with no success.

"Impressive ship you got here," she said to the curly haired man as she touched the railings. "Although it wouldn't last too long in war, I'm afraid."

"Well," the man said, "I'm not here for war," he smiled, "and it holds off fine on short expeditions. Very fast, too," he chuckled, grinning fondly at some memory that she had no part in.

"Quite the peace lover, aren't you?" she teased, laughing. She knew fully well that that was far from the truth.

"Contrary to popular opinion," he laughed, "I actually am. I only do what I do because there's always something preventing me from reaching my goals," at the word, there was an unexpected chilliness that made her spine shiver. And it took a lot for her to be fearful.

"Well, then, I must not get on your bad side, yes?" she asked. "Nothing could be worse than turning the human manifestation of destruction into your enemy."

He raised a brow. "I thought you Amazons loved that kind of thing? Conquering enemies, going to war, bringing the strongest down to prove a point."

She laughed. "Of course we do. But we do not attack on home territory unless it is absolutely necessary."

He tilted his head back and grinned widely. "Even savages have a sense of morals, huh?"

She snorted. "Look who's talking."

"You know you don't have to keep kissing my butt to get the girdle, right?" she laughed.

He took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Of course I do."

"And you are aware that I am an Amazon?" she asked warily.

He just shrugged.

Blood. Her stomach had so much blood.

Crackling. She heard the crackling of fire near her.

She hoped her eyes with difficulty; her head felt like it had been cracked open.

She first saw a blur of brown and black, which soon became the familiar sandals of the curly-haired man. She looked up to see the familiar face, now seething with anger from above. "I trusted you," he said with no warmth in his voice. "And you betrayed me."

What was he talking about? She would never betray him, even if her loyalty would lead to her death. How could he even think that about her? Had all their times together proved nothing?

Suddenly, the man crouched down, the face still in a scowl. He reached her waist, and for a brief, faint moment, she hoped that he would pick her up and set her upright. Forget that all this happened and help her clean up her wounds. Look at her with the familiar gentleness in his eye and smile at her like she was his world.

Instead, she only felt something sliding out of her waist.

"I'll be taking this," he said, holding up the girdle and dangling it like a prize. "A hard-won prize from war, after all."

She only could watch him walk away. She hated not being useful.

She was too in pain to cry.

She jumped from her bed at the sound of her alarm - the latest single of Jagged Stone, panting heavily and feeling sweat on her face.

She...she had been so sure that she had been the one bleeding on the floor, the flames around her. But now here she was in her room, with no signs of dry blood.

She lined her stomach with her fingers, breathing a sigh of relief when she found that there were no ugly gash marks.

It… it was just a dream.

Just a dream, she convinced herself. Just like all the other ones before. It hadn't actually happened to her. Yeah.

Somehow, she felt like she was only deceiving herself.

She almost smashed her phone to quiet the rock and roll music but settled on tapping the screen in frustration.

It was now 10:30.

She groaned. She needed to get ready now. Alya was going to be waiting for her, and a waiting Alya was not a nice Alya.

After she put on the red satin dress with black spotted patterns she had designed a few months ago with a pair of red sandals, she was called down for lunch by her mother. She ate her sandwich rather quickly and got back to her room to finish getting ready.

Marinette decided to put on natural looking makeup and was about to head out the door with her purse slung around her shoulders when her phone buzzed.

It was Alya.

"Hey Alya," Marinette answered after tapping accept, "I'm all done now and ready to head out! I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay girl," Alya said. "Nino and I'll be right there so we can all go there together."

"Alright."

When Alya and her boyfriend met Marinette in front of the bakery door, they exchanged brief hellos before walking to their destination.

"I still can't believe that Jagged Stone came back to Paris," Nino said excitedly, initiating the conversation.

Marinette giggled. "Nino, we bought the tickets a month ago."

"Yeah," Nino beamed, "But still! The dude usually stays in the US or goes everywhere in Europe but Paris. How many years has it been since he's performed here?"

"Two," Alya replied. "But it might also have something to do with XY. He has a surprisingly tight hold on France's music."

"But that dude is so… generic!" Nino groaned. "Why do people like him?"

Marinette and Alya shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe for the same reason that Chloé likes him?" Marinette asked.

Alya gagged. "Bleh. Chloé . All the more reason to dislike him."

Marinette frowned. "I don't think we should dislike him just because Chloé likes him."

"Yeah babe," Nino said. "We should dislike him because he's rude and his music is unoriginal. No need to hate on the guy only because Chloé likes him."

"Alright," Alya sighed. "Speaking of Chloé though," she began, "I heard that Chloé's coming to the Jagged Stone concert today."

Marinette's brows rose. "She is?!"

"Yeah," Alya said with an equal amount of surprise. "I thought that she hadn't liked Jagged Stone. Didn't think she would go to his concert, you know? But apparently someone is going with her and they persuaded her to come with him."

"Wow," Nino said with admiration in his tone. "Someone actually persuaded Chloé?"

Alya shrugged. "Who knows. She said that her 'Adrikins'," she said this with air quotes, "was coming with her and that it will be one of the most romantic nights for her or whatever," she rolled her eyes. "She was bragging about it on social media."

"You follow her on Twitter?" Marinette asked, eyes widening with disbelief.

Alya shrugged. "Keep your enemies close, you know?"

"I'd rather not," Marinette muttered. "In fact," she said, "I'd like her to be as far away from me as possible."

"Yeah, babe," Nino said to Alya. "I agree with Marinette. Chloé's the type of person that makes you...uh…"

"Exhausted? Frustrated?" Marinette supplied. "Just with her mere presence?"

"Yup," Nino agreed. "It was only mild for us in collège and lycée because we had you two," he smiled.

Both smiled sheepishly at that. "Thanks, Nino."

When they arrived, they saw the huge line that was gathered at the entrance. It coiled like a snake, but despite all the winding lines, it was still long enough that Marinette could barely see an entrance. Just how many people were here?

"Excuse me," she said to the man in what looked like the back of the line. "Is this the end of the line?"

The man turned around, and to her surprise, it was him.

She gasped. "You!"

She noticed that he looked at her from the bottom up with his green eyes. He didn't look that all surprised. "Hello, my Lady," he beamed at her.

She raised a brow. "My Lady?"

He pointed at her outfit. "You're wearing a Ladybug dress, aren't you?"

She frowned. "Oh," she said, examining her dress once again. "I never thought of it like that," she said. "So, that was a wordplay?"

"Of course! Puns are my specialty," he said proudly.

She stifled her giggles. He sounded like a kid showing off their favorite toy. "Is it really?"

"Yup! I consider myself to be quite punny."

She groaned at that. "That wasn't good!"

"You just aren't spotting the humor in my great puns, my Lady!" he complained. He shook his head in shame with faux regret. "It is a shame, really. Perhaps you are winded down from all this waiting," he said, stretching his arms out at the line.

She rolled her eyes at that, but her smile gave her away. "Perhaps your brain has been beetled too much to the point that you would attempt to use those puns as humor," she answered cheekily.

He broke into a huge grin at that. "The lady does have an affinity for puns!"

She groaned dramatically with a friendly smile on her face to tell him that she was joking. "See? You've gotten even me infected with your… strange sense of humor," she chuckled. "You should stop bugging me with your atrocious puns," she said playfully.

"You hurt me, Marinette," he put his hands on his heart in a dramatic gesture. His face was contorted in artificially created pain. She laughed.

"Speaking of-" she began.

"So-" he began at the same time.

They broke into a laugh at that.

"You go," he said first.

"No, you go,"

"No. Ladies first, right?"

"What did I tell you about the puns?" she said, amused.

"Well, I actually didn't mean that as a pun, but I'll take the credit," he grinned, satisfied. She chuckled.

"But still," he said, "You should still go first. It's practically common decency to let the ladies go first."

She raised a brow at that. "I didn't think of you as the chivalrous type."

"I'm an aspiring knight in shining armor," he chuckled.

"Well, you should contact me when you become one," she laughed. "Because I can then steal your armor and sell it on eBay."

He frowned. "Hey! At least sell my lance first!"

She laughed. "Of course, Mr. Knight. It would otherwise be a disgrace."

"Of course it would. And that's Sir Knight, to you."

She laughed. "Of course, Sir Knight."

He grinned widely. "Well, technically I'm a squire right now." There was a pause and he looked as if he was deep in thought. "But… maybe I could get some real world practice, yeah?"

She looked at him questioningly.

He suddenly turned sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck like she had seen him do in her-

She immediately stifled that thought down.

"Although I see that you have brought company, would you like some escort for tonight, princess?" he asked, blushing. Her eyes widened. "I-"

"Ugh. What is up with this line?!" Marinette could have sworn that she could recognize that voice from a mile away.

The voice's owner now stomped out of the coiled snake that was the line, marching to the front.

"Chloé," Marinette seethed.

"You know her?" the man asked her in disbelief.

"Yeah," she frowned. "We were in the same collège and lycée together."

He smiled. "That's great!"

She whipped her head to him. "Great?" she said in disbelief.

There was silence. "It… isn't..?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "She was my enemy. Always tried to pick on me."

He frowned. "Oh… uh…" he shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

She shrugged. "It's fine. I eventually stood up for myself and kept her in line. Hope she doesn't cause too much trouble today," she said, narrowing her eyes back to the general direction where Chloe had stormed off to.

At those words, she immediately heard a couple of screams and yells of calling daddy.

Marinette frowned. She saw that the man grimaced.

"Well… I guess I've been proven wrong yet again," she rolled her eyes. "Unsurprisingly."

"Yeah…" he grimaced. "Chloé can be… difficult."

"You know her?" it was her turn to be surprised.

"Yeah… she's my, uh… friend."

"Friend?! She has friends?!" she knew how offensive that sounded, but Chloé deserved it, honestly. "And you're her friend?!" how could a nice guy who was (even though she would never say that to him, in fear of being bombarded by too many puns every minute he and she ended up bumping into each other) relatively funny be friends with that she-beast that had a soul as black as night?

"Um… yes? We've been friends ever since we were very little; our mothers were close friends," he explained.

"Why are you still friends with her then?" Marinette frowned. "If you know that she can be difficult..."

"I can't just give up on her," he shrugged. "She's been with me ever since I was little." Which was the same for her, but probably with a far different meaning. "Plus, I don't think I can just dump her under the bus; she's one of my only friends."

At this, her frown turned into a sympathetic smile. "Not only," she said.

"Pardon?"

"You can call me your friend," Marinette said.

At first, he looked at her with confusion, as if something was unbelievable. Unfathomable. Then, he beamed as widely as possible. Is a friend that valuable to him? She thought with worry.

"What's your name?" she finally asked. "I should know the name of my friend, yeah?"

His smile soon morphed into a confused frown, but it soon turned into a gentle smile. She didn't know what was up with that, but she tried not to think much about it. "Adrien," he finally said.

"Adrien?!" she shrieked. She almost tripped on her foot.

He frowned. "Is that bad?"

Memories of the dream when she had accepted to be his girlfriend resurfaced in her mind.

She blushed. Did this mean that the dream would predict the future? Would she really become his girlfriend?

The thought was bizarre. She had met him only a few days ago!

But she didn't feel any repulsion to the idea, either. And he seemed like a genuinely funny and nice guy...

And a small part of her said that it was only something that was natural and obvious.

She pushed that part of her deep down into the abyss.

"N-no! Of course not! Adrien is a very nice name!" She chuckled.

"Oh… okay Marinette," he smiled weakly.

That made new thoughts come up within her.

"Can… can I ask how you know my name?"

At this, he frowned for a moment. If someone didn't look closely, they might have missed it.

Not that she was looking closely, of course. Because, of course, she wasn't. She just happened to notice it. It was a coincidence. Yeah.

"I…" he began. "I just heard it from Chloé, yeah," he said. "She was talking about you on the phone and-"

Marinette snorted. "Probably it was mostly lies,"

Adrien chuckled. "Yeah, you're nothing like what she said."

At that, her cheeks reddened. "Is that a compliment..?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah!" Adrien beamed. "Of course!"

Marinette looked at him. "Thanks," she finally said.

Her most hated enemy came back looking smug.

"Adrikins!" Chloé said, throwing her weight onto Adrien. He caught her reluctantly. "I have news!"

He chuckled nervously. "That's great, Chloe. What is it?"

"We can go inside right now! I have talked with them-"

"More like threatened them," Marinette muttered under her breath.

But the blonde must have heard her because she stopped midway in her speech and scowled at Marinette's direction.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng," Chloe said with scorn. "Fancy seeing you here,"

"Right back at you, Chloe," she seethed.

"Uh…" she heard Adrien say, but she paid him no attention.

"What are you doing here?" Marinette asked. "I thought you weren't a fan of Jagged Stone."

"I so am not," Chloe said. "But 'Adrikins' here," he smiled awkwardly at Marinette. Her eyes widened. He was 'Adrikins'?

She scoffed. That was a terrible nickname.

Poor Adrien.

She could do better - and should do better - than Chloe.

"-insisted that we have our first date here!" Chloe squealed. "Isn't it romantic?" She smirked.

At this, Marinette rose her brow at the male blond. "I thought you said she was a friend?"

"And she is," he chuckled nervously, trying to put distance between him and Chloe.

"Don't be silly, Adrien!" Chloe chuckled. "I'm your girlfriend."

"Girl friend," he said, emphasizing the space.

She rolled her eyes. "Same difference." Both frowned at that. "Anyways, come on, let's go inside!" she said, taking his wrists and dragging him out of the line.

"Um, Chloe," he said as soon as she took his wrist. "Can I stay here for a little bit more?" he chuckled nervously, looking back at Marinette. "I want to…"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I can't leave you alone with the baker girl, Adrien," she chuckled as if even the possibility was ludicrous. Marinette clenched her fists. "You deserve far better. Like me!"

He looked at Marinette immediately and back at Chloe. He was frowning again. "Uh…"

"Come on," Chloe said, dragging him away.

He followed the blonde reluctantly. However, he turned his neck to give her an apologetic smile as the two blonde-haired people walked to the building.

Those who said that Jagged Stone was rusting had not been to his concerts. The rockstar was still going strong, despite it already being two hours into the concert.

"Yooo! How you doing, Paris?!"

Scratch that. He was living the music.

Marinette knew that they had bought the ticket that was for three hours, but didn't musicians usually tire out and sometimes need a drink of water? She wasn't even sure that she had even seen a bottle of water. Not to mention that Jagged Stone's energy electrified the crowd to a fervor that Marinette was sure could only be otherwise achieved by alcohol.

However and unfortunately, her body was also getting electrified, which meant by default that her bladder was also getting electrified. So she excused herself from Alya and Nino to head to the bathroom.

It was when she reached the water fountain that separated the men's bathroom from the women's that Marinette tripped.

"Plagg!" she said, the tension evaporating from her body as she saw the familiar shadow coming out from the woods and to the other side of the clothes were in tatters and his face was covered in dirt. She saw a black eye.

Her eyes widened. "What happened to you?!" she said. Did he get into a fight? Maybe it was with… oh sweet Osiris. Then were there any other injuries that he was hiding underneath his clothes?

"Kicked your folk's butt," he smirked. From the way he grinned widely, he was unapologetically happy about his actions.

She shook her head in disapproval. "Plagg…" she said with fondness in her tone. "When you come to the other side I am going to kill you."

Plagg flinched at this but did not say anything.

They finally met together a half an hour later. She stormed over to the man whose skin was the color of chocolate huffing, fists clenched.

Plagg flinched at this. "Tikki, I-" She tugged at his clothing and pulled him in for a kiss.

It felt like fire to her, hot and living and writhing, something that was engulfing and all-embracing. It was dangerous because of this, but it was also nourishing and intoxicating. It made her wobbly in the knees and flushed red on the cheeks, and she felt as if all of the energy she possessed was going to her head, her head working busily and not at the same time.

She moaned into his lips.

Maybe it was because this was her first kiss.

Maybe it was because he immediately kissed her back after the shock wore off.

Maybe it was because this was Plagg, who understood her and embraced all of her, including her flaws like they were overlooked jewels.

Maybe it was because they were yin and yang, two opposites of each other that were each other. Plagg was her and she was Plagg. Where she was light, he was darkness. Where he was light, she was darkness. And this made it so that they were able to exist alone yet together at the same time. When one wasn't able to do something, the other picked up the slack.

Speaking of troubles...

She smacked Plagg on the head, effectively forcing him to pull away.

He clutched his head in pain. "Ow! What did you do that for?"

"You should have thought before you acted!" she frowned. "Just because you don't like them doesn't mean-"

"They hurt you!"

"I'm okay now, that's what matters!"

"No, it isn't!" he frowned. "They should have paid for what they did!" Did he… growl? "And I made sure that they did."

She sighed. "I appreciate that you care, Plagg, but really, I'm oka-" Plagg scoffed at that. "I really am!"

"I'm not apologizing for what I did, Tikki. They were in the wrong."

She frowned. "I'm not trying to force you to apologize, Plagg. I just need you to… think before you act."

"And risk letting those bastards get away with what they did? No way."

She sighed in exasperation.

"...rinette? Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?! Are you alright?! MARINETTE!"

She snapped out of her visions and onto a familiar set of chest. It was accompanied by a familiar set of arms that had been on her arms before. It was actually like it had always been there before and like it belonged there.

She looked up to see Adrien's face, in a visible worry.

"My Lady?"

She blinked. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

She nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. Because her consciousness was now regained, Marinette was successful in convincing Adrien that she was fine. "Yeah. It happens sometimes."

He sighed with relief. "Should we get you to a hospital?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't think I can explain this to them. I've tried, and they never believed me."

Adrien frowned. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't they?"

Marinette shrugged. "It's just something that I was born with. No one knows why I have it."

He raised a brow at that. "Okay…"

She then felt him breathing onto her face and realized that her hands were on his chest.

Her cheeks flamed up when she remembered the passionate kiss that Plagg and Tikki - that had been her name - had shared.

With confusion evident on his face, Adrien studied her face.

His face morphed into something more devious.

"Falling for me so soon, my Lady?" he smirked.

At the words, she suddenly remembered why she had come here in the first place. She snorted a no and escaped from his grip (not like she needed to; he willingly let go of her) to go to the bathroom.

Author's Note: Basically this was a critique on the mind of an INFJ, of which I am one. I see some of myself in Marinette (but I empathize with Adrien more because I've gone through a similar experience) and so may have put some of my own thoughts when I was exploring Marinette's internal monologue. Maybe I shouldn't have gone that much in depth, though: it ended up being more than four thousand words on just the monologue alone! Now that's crazy. And that was when I hadn't even started the plot yet XD.