Marinette
Ever since she could remember, Marinette had heard the tales. Countless myths of ancient magic and supernatural abilities, shapeshifters and monsters, faes and warlocks. The world used to be a much different place in the past. She envied it. She often pretended she was a fairy herself, powerful and kind, one that cared for people, healed the sick, and fed the hungry. She would spread her arms and run around her garden, flying high in her imagination. With every swing of her hand, she would almost see how flowers would bloom, bushes would grow and trees would bear delicious fruit. She'd kissed not only her own wounds, but those of everyone who would let her because Marinette believed she could heal them.
Then, she grew up.
Magic was nothing but a legend these days, a fairytale to scare the little ones into obedience. And not that she believed the rumours, but monsters, wielding unimaginable powers in Paris? Pfft. Who was to prove they weren't just amoral politicians in the King's court? The members of the Royal family were involved with magic? Nonsense. Corruption and backstabbing lurked in the palace. Conspiracy theories had never interested Marinette. And if no one had ever seen the sole heir to the throne, it was probably because he had some kind of disability or deformity not fit for a future sovereign of France… not because he was a monster with such overwhelming powers he could cause an apocalypse with a single swipe of his finger if he wanted so. Why would the prince hide from his helpless subjects if he were indeed so powerful? It just didn't make sense.
And yet, as Marinette was frantically getting ready for the day, she wished that magic was real and in her life. A tiny bit would satisfy her; just enough to help her with that irritating clumsiness of hers, and she would be eternally grateful. Where were her tiny magical helpers to wake her up on time on the first day of her last year at university so she wouldn't be late? Where was her magical wand? The one she could just flick and instantly look fabulous, instead of rushing out of the door in a mismatched outfit, with a head full of barely combed hair, a croissant in her mouth, and a non-existent hope of not being late for her first lecture.
She strived to at least sneak into an auditorium without attracting the professor's attention, but fate—or rather, a blond guy sitting in the second row by the door—had another idea, as he dropped his pencil right where Marinette was about to step. An instant later, she landed in his lap with a yelp, attracting the attention of everyone in the classroom, including the professor.
Her face hot, Marinette curled in on herself, trying to hide. The blond pulled her closer, protectively shielding her from the world. His hold on her, firm but gentle, sent shivers up Marinette's skin. And maybe she'd lingered longer in his embrace if not for the disapproving hum of the woman standing in front of the class.
Marinette squirmed in the blond's arms, trying to disentangle herself. The moment she looked at his face, she swore thunder cracked somewhere in the distance.
Those eyes…
Her breathing hitched, her heart pumping at an insane rate. She'd seen those eyes somewhere. Green as the richest pastures in the middle of the summer. Warm and welcoming as the sun in the clear sky. Intriguingly emerald, with streaks of mischief in them. So familiar, yet mysterious at the same time. Marinette couldn't look away, gaping at him in wonder.
That is until the blond had the audacity to lean over and whisper in her ear, "Falling for me already, Princess?"
The spell broke as fast as it descended. Marinette quirked an eyebrow, looking him over. Pristine haircut, flawless skin, the whitest teeth she'd ever seen, a cocky smirk on his lips, wide shoulders, slender, fit figure. She could feel his ripped muscles dance under that expensive shirt of his. Typical spoiled rich brat.
"As if I would fall for a pathetic excuse of a man who resorts to literally bringing a girl down for her to pay him a second look."
The expression on his face was priceless. His hold eased, giving Marinette the chance to untangle herself from his embrace. Poor, rich brat. He probably wasn't used to girls not falling at his feet at first sight.
"Mlle Dupain-Cheng, I presume?" a woman with a stern look at the front of the class called her attention. "First day of classes and not only are you coming in late, but you're also disturbing the class."
"I'm very sorry, madame," Marinette murmured, picking up her bag. "This won't happen again."
"I didn't mean to drop it," the guy whispered, leaning closer. "It slipped my grasp by accident. I'm sorry—"
"M Noir, keep quiet," the professor scolded him. "Some of us are trying to make sense of the course outline. I suggest you join the group."
The blond turned back to his work, an apologetic look on his face, but Marinette wasn't buying it. She had met her fair share of his kind, and spoiled rich boys who played tricks on others for selfish entertainment weren't people she looked to be associated with. Having gone through school with Chloé Bourgeois was enough. So, to make sure the blond got the message loud and clear, Marinette glared at him. Then, without paying him a second thought, she picked up her bag and marched down the aisle to where Alya was motioning her.
"You okay?" her best friend whispered.
"I'll live." Marinette pulled out her tablet. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing much. We've been going through the course outline for the last fifteen minutes."
Mme Mendeleev glanced their way again, her eyebrows narrowed in warning.
"Sorry," Marinette mouthed and turned her attention to the outline in front of her.
At least she tried to because, for some unknown reason, she couldn't get a particular set of green eyes out of her head. A brief moment of eye contact, but it overwhelmed her as nothing ever had before. There was kindness and warmth behind all the cockiness and smugness of his smile. Typical rich, spoiled brat demeanour aside, those eyes belonged to someone immeasurably caring and loving. Someone very affectionate and tender-hearted. Brave but vulnerable. Someone who was protective and harboured a mischievous side under all that polished glamour of his. Someone, she could swear she'd met before, which clearly wasn't the case because there was no way anyone could have forgotten those eyes, even after a single glance.
Marinette shook her head. She didn't have time to muse over it. She had goals to achieve, and thinking of the blond brat in the second row would be the last thing that'd get her there. No matter how pretty his eyes were.
The fresh bane of her existence was not listening to the lecture. He kept fidgeting and shifting in his seat. Even worse, he was constantly stealing glances at her, most likely thinking of another prank to pull, but Marinette wasn't a fool. She'd had plenty of practice with Chloé back in school to keep from falling victim to his tricks. He was not winning this.
The clock announced the end of the lecture, and a few girls circled the blond's desk, the brilliance of their smiles lighting the room as they all rushed to introduce themselves. Good. Knowing his kind, he'd most likely engage in the conversation—which M Noir did. And with an easy smile on his face, no less.
Marinette huffed and turned away. Typical, rich Casanova. Well, easier for her to vanish before he could try to pull another prank on her. She even made sure to take the furthest-from-him route to exit the classroom, walking away as fast as she could. Alya seemed to be amused but didn't say a word, barely keeping up with Marinette's stride.
They were quite some distance away when Marinette heard someone calling from behind. It wasn't her or Alya's name, so she kept on walking. A few meters or so after, the blond ran past them and turned to stand, blocking their way.
"Wai—wait. S-sorry." He struggled to catch his breath, keeping his hand up to stop them. "Give me a sec."
Marinette raised an eyebrow. Dishevelled hair, crooked clothes, flustered face. He was quite handsome… which didn't matter, because he was a spoiled brat. And why did he run after her? Weren't countless fangirls at his desk enough for him?
"Sorry again. Hi." He awkwardly waved before stretching out a hand to her. "My name's Adrien. What's yours?"
Marinette looked away, folding arms over her chest. Whatever his game was, she wasn't going to play along. His type was better to be avoided. "Not interested."
He dared to put the "kicked puppy" look on that handsome face of his. "I just wanted to apologize."
"And I am not interested in your apology. So why don't we just go our separate ways and forget the other exists, okay?"
Alya groaned by her side. "Come on, Marinette. Give him a chance. He's trying."
"Alya," Marinette hissed.
Adrien's lips stretched into a smile. "That's a lovely name, Marinette." He looked at Alya. "And what do I call you, merciful stranger?"
"Alya. Alya Césaire."
"Well, thank you, Alya Césaire, for aiding this poor stray in his quest to obtain the name of the grumpy Princess over here."
Alya chuckled, sporting a sly smirk a moment later. "Thank me by getting me the number of the guy who sat next to you in the lecture."
Adrien's face brightened with amusement. "Nino?"
"Tall, ripped, golden skin, sexy glasses. If that's Nino, then, yes, I want Nino's number."
"If you'll give me your details, I'll make sure he has them in ten minutes."
"Deal."
"I'll leave you two to it," Marinette huffed as Alya pulled out her notebook for a scrap of paper.
"Come on, M. Why are you so grumpy today? Look at him. He's practically a ray of sunshine."
"He's basically a male Chloé."
"We don't know that. He doesn't seem to be."
"I'm not a 'Chloé'," Adrien said, slipping the sheet with Alya's info in his bag. "I am a male, though. Is that a deal-breaker?"
"It usually isn't," Alya said. "She's got plenty of male friends."
"And I'm not looking for one more." Marinette stepped around Adrien and resumed her walk.
He followed. "But I just wanted to apologize, and maybe see if I can make it up to you somehow, despite it being an honest accident."
Gosh, he was irritating! Couldn't he get a clue? She stopped in her tracks and glared at him. "And you think that by being oh so charming, you'll melt my heart with your smile and I'll forgive you, right?"
He winked, his shiny whites on full display. "Is it working?"
Marinette hummed, slowly leaning closer, a teasing smile on her lips. She could feel his breath stalling, his chest heaving, eyes widening as she got closer and closer. His lips slowly parted. She was mere inches away from his face when she dropped her pretence. "Not even in your dreams. I'm immune to your devilish charms."
Adrien gulped. With a winning smirk, Marinette walked away.
"You think my charms are devilish." He just had to trail along.
It wasn't a question. She could feel him bursting with pride at her little slip.
"I think you're too full of yourself and it's getting really annoying."
"I guess I'll have to step up my game then."
Marinette stopped. No matter how flattering it was, him stepping up his game was the last thing she wanted. She wasn't oblivious. At first, it was his eyes. Now she looked at his stupid face and felt her insides tighten and her heart beating erratically. She kind of liked his cocky attitude. She liked that he persisted despite her being an ass. She knew exactly where this was heading, and she wanted to save it for a nice, simple boy in her league who didn't remind her of Chloé just by being blond and rich.
"Listen. Adrien, right? If my forgiveness is what you're seeking, then fine, you're forgiven. Now, will you leave me alone, please?"
"You're a bad liar, Princess. You're still mad at me, and that's a sure sign that I have not been forgiven."
She could feel her cheeks warming. Apart from her Papa, no one ever called her "Princess". This guy had already done it twice, and on their first meeting, no less. But then, he most likely flirted with all the girls he met. He looked the part.
She turned away. "You aren't helping your case by nagging."
"Will a cup of coffee help my case? My treat."
Marinette looked at him over her shoulder. That confident smirk on his face. He thought he was all that just because he was gorgeous and kind of interesting to talk to? Pfft. She'd handled worse. She'd just never been attracted to them before. She could still do this. She just had to make sure he understood her clearly the first time.
"No. Now, leave me alone before I report you for harassment."
His features frozen, lips slightly parted, Adrien finally remained in place when she walked away, Alya in tow. Score one for Marinette, zero for the irritating pretty boy. She doubted he'd ever bother her again. Which was good. Because she didn't need this, whatever it was.
"Okay, what's up with you?" Alya asked as soon as they were out of Adrien's earshot. "I love you, girl, but you're being a bitch. Are you PMSing or something?"
"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. He just rubs me the wrong way. I don't know. Can't explain. He reminds me way too much of Chloé—"
"How in hell does he remind you of Chloé? Just by having blond hair?"
"And he's rich."
"How do you know that?"
"His clothes are top brands. They cost a fortune."
"So what? Being rich doesn't equal being an asshole. Yes, he caused you to trip, but unlike Chloé, he went out of his way to apologize, and you, my friend, are better than what I just witnessed."
Marinette pursued her lips as she stomped on. "He also has that smug, entitled smirk. He paid no attention to the lecture, and have you seen how shamelessly he flirted with all of those girls after class? He's a Casanova. An irresponsible, spoiled brat who mustered some charm. I don't want people like him around me."
Alya grabbed Marinette's arm, stopping her in her tracks. Turning Marinette to face her, she hissed. "Are you done?"
Marinette frowned, looking away. Alya had been her best friend for way too long. Long enough for her to see right through Marinette and not be afraid to call her on her bullshit.
"Let me explain what's happening here, sweetheart," Alya pressed in a tone that left no room for negotiations. "You've been bullied by the Bourgeois brat for way too long. You've learned to stand up for yourself and fight back, and I'm insanely proud of you for that. But that doesn't mean you have to be on your guard around everyone who reminds you of her. People like Chloé are exceptions to the rules, not the standard. And now, you've met someone nice who shares a few qualities with her, having absolutely nothing to do with a person's character, and you're feeling attracted to him and freaking out because of that, and that's why you're being a bitch to him."
"I'm not attracted—"
"Spare me, M. Don't you think I haven't noticed how you ogled him all throughout the lecture? He wasn't the only one not paying attention to Pr. Mendeleev."
"I didn't ogle him!" The tips of her ears warmed up. She was certain she was subtle and careful. And that wasn't ogling, per se. Just a couple of glances. And only because he was in her line of sight.
"Oh, come on! No one's blaming you, girl. He's hot. Not my type, but even I can't deny he deserves a second glance."
"I don't have time for this." Marinette huffed, trying to walk away. "I have the bakery and my own fashion line waiting for me. Boys can wait until I'm well into my thirties. Maybe even later."
Alya shook her head. "Still set on stretching yourself thin, burning out sooner rather than later, and missing out on your life in the process?"
Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line."I can't just drop the bakery, you know that. I'm an only child—"
Alya grabbed Marinette by her shoulders. "Girl, times have changed. Your father isn't expecting anything from you but to be happy and follow your dreams no matter what your family has been doing for generations. When will we get that through your thick head?"
Marinette turned away. No matter how hard she tried to explain it, Alya just didn't understand. Marinette was a Dupain-Cheng. She had to make her family proud. She couldn't be the first one to bail on the bakery that was in their family for hundreds of generations, no matter what her father said. And Marinette loved baking. She liked working at their little shop. Just because she loved designing clothes more didn't mean she could forget about her responsibilities. But if she worked hard enough, she could have it all: the bakery and her fashion career.
"You're killing yourself trying to do it all," Alya continued. "Stop it. And stop rejecting any guy interested in you. Or are you planning to be alone all your life?"
"What's wrong with being alone?"
"Nothing! Apart from that it isn't for you, M. You already have your future kids' names figured out. You know you'll get a hamster once you're married. You have a sketchbook filled with wedding ideas, including at least a dozen dresses. You aren't made for leading a solitary life. Tell me I'm wrong."
Marinette looked away, nibbling on her lip. Finding that special someone was a dream of hers, one she'd held deep in her heart ever since she was a little girl. She even knew precisely what she wanted him to be. Handsome and smart. He would be kind and brave. He'd have a mischievous side and would never shy away from hard work. Someone she could trust. Someone she could lean on. Someone who probably was way too perfect to exist.
"Now isn't the right time for romance," Marinette replied quietly. "Perhaps once I graduate, I'll think about it. We should really go to our next lecture. It's about to start." She got out of Alya's hold and headed down the hall.
Alya followed. "Why did you cancel on Luka?"
Marinette grunted. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours yet. She wasn't surprised in the slightest, though. This was Alya Césaire, after all. The woman who would one day take the journalism world by storm, uncover a few mysteries, cause a revolution or two, and save hundreds of lives, if not a few countries, in the process.
"It didn't feel right. I should've never agreed to go out with him in the first place."
"Is that so?" Alya quirked an eyebrow. "Then why did you agree to go out with him again?"
"I…" Marinette bit on her lip. "I couldn't say no. He's a nice guy, Alya. I like him. I really do. But… I don't know, it just feels weird. I can't explain it. He's more like a cool, older brother than boyfriend material to me."
"Then, you should tell him. Don't lead him on. Luka deserves better."
"I was planning to talk to him about that when he gets back from his trip."
"Make sure you do."
"Don't worry. I already have my speech written down."
"Good. Now, how about M Noir?" Alya wiggled her eyebrows at Marinette. "He seems to be interested. More importantly, you seem to be interested."
"Come on, Alya!" Marinette groaned. "We just met. How could he be interested already? Not to mention after the welcome I gave him, no sane person would stick around."
"But you didn't deny you're interested." Alya grinned. "Do I smell love at first sight?"
"You smell your own interest in his friend. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason you're pushing me that way."
"Well, not the only reason, but I shall neither deny nor confirm anything." Alya chuckled as they reached their next lecture hall. "Ready for class?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
They settled down, pulled out their tablets, and waited for the professor to arrive. Alya's phone chimed. She looked at it and barely muffled an excited squeal.
"What's up?"
"The hot friend Nino is saying hello." Alya grinned, typing a response. "Wanna bet I'm scoring a date by the end of this class?"
"And here I thought you would marry 'breaking news'. How disappointing."
"Well, unlike someone, I'm not about to walk away from the hottest guy I've ever seen."
"More like the only guy whom you noticed over your 'finding the latest scoop' addiction."
"Hey!" Alya raised a finger, uselessly trying to threaten Marinette. "It's not an addiction. It's called talent, and it's not my fault that I'm very talented."
Marinette laughed. "Just try to keep it under control around him or you'll scare him off."
"He isn't worthy of me if being a little proactive scares him away," Alya huffed. "And who are you to lecture me? You just went above and beyond scaring away the guy you liked."
"I don't like him. We just met. How can I like him already?"
Alya chuckled. "You're such a bad liar, M. Or in denial. One of those two. You choose."
"Good afternoon, class." A tall man entered the room. "I apologize for the delay. Let's dive in straight away."
"I do not like him," Marinette hissed.
Alya let out an amused chuckle. "Trying to convince me or yourself?"
Marinette huffed and turned away. Of course, she didn't like Adrien. She couldn't. Liking was so much more than finding someone attractive, and they had just met. She didn't know him well enough to like him. She didn't need to get to know him. She had goals to achieve, and M Noir and his green eyes would be an unwelcome distraction. Not that he'd want to be one after the way she treated him just now.
She might have gone a little overboard with that. Perhaps she really needed to be a little less impulsive and judgemental, but that was an issue for future Marinette. The present one had a lecture to focus on and a blond boy with green eyes that she was absolutely not going to think about.