I just wanted to say:

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

To emjrabbitwolf for your amazing support!

From now on, I'm going to try my best to respond to the reviews left on my fanfictions. Also, I love it when you guys leave reviews. Comments, plot ideas, criticism, AU ideas,heck- even song suggestions, all are welcome. When you leave a review, it absolutely makes my day!

XOXOX

A lukewarm breeze blew past Ladybug's light-skinned face, and strands of her hydrangea-blue hair into her cyan eyes. She started out at her beautiful city, admiring everything in it. Even though it ate up her time, and sometimes unnecessarily, she cherished her patrol time. It gave her an excuse to wander the city after dusk, and gifted her with the time to think about the problems that had been building up for the past few days. Nothing trumped watching the honey-melon-orange sun set in Paris from the top of the Eiffel tower while pondering your stresses.

This time, a certain cat was on her mind.

She just couldn't forget what had happened the night before. Chat often came over to play Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 with her ( and she had to admit that he was pretty dang good ) , but last night had been different. She could never get it off her mind, no matter how hard she tried. During school the next day, she had retreated into her little shell, incapable of thinking about learning and focus on what the teachers were saying, unable to chatter with Alya about the Ladyblog without having flashbacks.

The flashbacks.

How they tormented her.

If someone even just casually mentioned her Mao Mao, she would instantaneously recall his state the night before. His celadon eyes filling with glistening ultramarine tears, trails of dampness trailing down his medium-bisque cheeks. His piteous wails filled her ears like white noise, drowning out all of her thoughts and feelings. She still loved Adrien, but thinking of Chat Noir's cascades of emotions from the previous night made her heart shatter into countless shards.

The whispers of wind twisted the strands of her aegean blue hair. She carefully untied the candy-apple-red ribbons that held together her lapis-blue pigtails, and she felt like her coeur was held together by something just as gauzy and feeble, so easily unwound and susceptible to collapsing into a pile of fragments. The memories of the day before were steadily unfurling the fragile gossamer that had been cradling her fragile heart.

The gusts of wind caused her admiral-blue hair to flow behind her like a mane. She let the ribbons blow away into the gales of wind, and she felt like her corazon was drifting away into the seemingly never-ceasing streets of Paris along with it.

She sprang off of the slate-grey railing of the Eiffel tower, plunging to the ground. As she hit the flint-grey cobblestone street, she tucked in her knees and rolled, distributing the impact of the fall throughout her body. In a heartbeat, she was back on her feet.

Scanning the area and seeing no-one, she gingerly dropped her transformation. Tikki threw Marinette a small smile, but promptly yawned, flashing her bite-sized, raspberry-colored tongue. Marinette swiftly opened her purse, allowing her quami to disappear into the the azalea-pink, cozy ruffles of fabric for a much-needed nap.

Only after her quami had retired did Marinette let the teardrops slide down her misty-rose-colored cheeks. She huddled against the icy, industrial-strength steel beam of the eiffel tower, drawing her knees into her aching chest, and let herself weep., resting her head on her knees. The patter of footsteps approaching her brought her back to the moment, but she didn't look up. She didn't want to know what would happen to her if, by chance, it was her Chaton.

She could hear fabric rustle as someone sat down next to her, and glimpsed a long lock of gleaming, chestnut hair through her arms. The person opened their arms, and Marinette let herself lean into their offered hug. A pair of sandstone-skinned arms wrapped themselves around Marinette's swaying torso, and they gave her tremendous comfort, something she didn't expect to receive.

She buried her sodden face into a tiger-orange silky cardigan, and tender fingers mercifully stroked her hair.

She had finally found her shoulder to cry on.