start notes—

"Please, who are you kidding? You cannot spell Marinette Dupain-Cheng without: K-L-U—"
"Then do tell me, please, where the letter 'K' IS IN MY—"

my tellonym: milkisande

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pre, scene i

and those eyes, they drew me in;
it was too late for me.

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THE park was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

After having spent the majority of the week busily working away at all the details of her collection's presentation for Paris Fashion Week: completing errands, cementing work connections, and finalizing papers before their deadlines, it was no surprise to anyone that the twenty-nine year old was already feeling rather burned out.

Almost passing out on her chair, Marinette slammed her head on her desk in a desperate (and, in actuality, futile) attempt to get at least a few minutes of rest. The unfinished paperwork on her desk stacked menacingly, almost threatening to fall over, and her phone couldn't seem to stop ringing in a constant bzzt bzzt bzzt that the exhausted girl drearily attempted to convince herself was a lullaby.

Sure, in the public's eye, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was living the dream: a superstar CEO who began her fashion brand in her teenage years, only to rise in global popularity and acclaim despite her young age (though she was, arguably, not that young anymore). The Ladybug brand was, and remained to be, at the top of the Paris fashion industry, causing everyone to be envious of its talented leader.

And sure, she would have been the same in the past, pining over that kind of lifestyle, but after experiencing it for herself, began to realize that she was severely misinformed. If only she had been briefed that the reality of her fashion dream was this demanding and intense, with little to no time for a personal life or even time for herself, Marinette would've re-examined starting her career that early on.

But now it was far too late; she was turning thirty and still single, with a generally embarrassing lack of experience in the field of long-term dating (sure, she'd gone on dates before: but none of them quite worked out or lasted, what with her busy schedule and the unfortunate truth that none of them really spiked her interest in the first place).

Frankly, Marinette had long since accepted that her relationship status definitely wouldn't change any time soon: despite the concerned looks and almost pitying stares from her parents and co-workers. So to speak, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was married to her job— as countless papers had written about her.

Sighing, and settling into a comfortable position (the best she could do was lay her head on some leftover fabric placed haphazardly on her desk to make a sorry attempt at a pillow— oh, if only the interviewers could see her now), she readied to nap, until the familiar sound of someone calling her name accompanied the sudden opening of her office doors.

"Marinette!"

Groggily looking up and wiping her eyes, the girl in question, exhausted, managed to muster a response. "Alya? What are you doing here?"

The light from outside her office streamed in, causing Marinette to blink rapidly in order to adjust. She'd been holed in this room for God-knows-how-long, attempting to finish everything on time, the only company being her mountain of work and the box of Chinese takeout that was, in all honesty, starting to look less like food and more like something one would see in their nightmares.

"Girl, how long have you been in here?" Alya asked instead, carefully stepping over the items thrown all over the floor. "And why is it so messy?" Curiously, she picked up one box, only to drop it immediately realizing the trail of ants that seemed to emerge from inside. "Eek!"

Propping her head up with one hand, the other stressfully running through her hair, "yeah, yeah, I know", she muttered, "it's a mess. I'll clean it up in a bit, just let me answer my calls for a sec—"

"Oh, no way," Alya responded, finally reaching her friend's desk and seeing the girl in all her exhausted glory: hair tied in an actual messy bun, glasses markedly leaving an imprint on her face from sleeping on it, eyebags upon eyebags, and an outfit that would make anyone doubt whether or not she really was working in the fashion industry.

Alya liked to call these moments Marinette's Downward Spirals (patent pending): having been with her throughout high school and all of university, she was no stranger to her best friend's work-related breakdowns.

"Alright, Miss CEO, what you need to do is go outside, and experience the actual sun," Alya lectured. "You need to remember that there is a world outside of the four walls of this room." She paused, then looked around. "Or whatever hellscape you turned your office into."

Against her will, Marinette was disrupted from her (not quite) rest, somewhat rudely being pulled out of her chair and the (questionable) comfort of her desk. "Alyaaa," she whined, "I can't go out. I have too much to do."

"I know," Alya responded, pointedly, dragging her unwilling victim out. "But you're never going to get anything done staying like this. I'll call your secretary to have her help out with the work and," she wrinkled her nose, "do something about this room. I know you have a habit of doing everything yourself, but you don't have to do that anymore. This isn't high school, and you have an entire group of employees who have to and are willing to help you out. You're stretching yourself out too thin, Mari."

Marinette only sighed, knowing she was right. She knew that most of the work she didn't have to do herself, but she just wasn't used to relegating tasks to anyone else: something she still had difficulty with even after years on the job. It was times like this that Marinette was grateful for Alya, who was always the one to pull her out of those moments.

"Yeah," she finally replied, "Thanks, Alya." She smiled, before following her friend downstairs and outside, onto the park nearby.

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After getting some ice cream, the two finally decided to settle on one of the benches outside, near a tree that seemed to provide the perfect shade from the sun.

"Right?" Alya laughed, "I can't leave Nino alone with Trixx for a second. I have no idea what's going on in his head half the time!"

"Even after being married to him for so long?" Marinette teased in response, though the ever-familiar feeling of envy seemed to creep itself into her mind.

"Definitely, but I can't deny that I love that loser," she replied, laughing, before noticing the change in her friend's disposition. Realizing what it was about immediately, Alya offered an empathetic smile. "Hey, you know that you'll find someone, right?"

Marinette sighed, finishing the ice cream with a crunch. "It's not that I want to, I mean, I'm definitely happy where I am, but when I hear about you and Nino…" she trailed off, then smiled, somewhat bittersweetly. "I just feel a little jealous, you know? I'd love to experience something like that."

"Well," Alya responded, hand pressed to her chin, mimicking a thinking gesture. "What about Nathanael? The artist I set you up on a date with? You never did tell me how that went."

"It went great!" Marinette responded, "he's a great guy!" She cracked a smile, remembering the date, but shook her head. "I just don't think we're meant to be together", recalling how excited the male would get when it came to talking about his partner-in-writing. "There's definitely someone he cares about already."

Alya pouted, then tilted her head again. "Well," she began slowly, the remnants of a plan beginning to form in her mind. "If you haven't found anyone yet…" a smirk. "Then we can find someone here!"

Flushing, Marinette immediately shook her head. "No way!"

"Come on, isn't there anyone here that's your type?"

Alya looked around, scoping the park for any potential dates. Suddenly, she lit up, then jabbed her finger in the direction of the fountain. "What about him?"

Against her better judgment, Marinette looked toward the fountain. After all, Alya had been with her for years. She definitely knew what her type was already.

Or… not.

Eyes following the direction of where Alya had pointed, Marinette saw a rather old man; who, judging by his cane and facial features, had to be in his late fifties. He was peacefully leaning down, throwing birdseed to feed the pigeons that passed by. Catching her gaze, he smiled, only for the girl to smile awkwardly in return before breaking eye contact.

"Are you making fun of me?" Marinette hissed, turning away to see her friend's amused look.

"Look again, Mari." She only responded, jerking her head to the other individual poised near the fountain.

Correction: there were, in fact, two of them.

One of them was a young boy Marinette estimated to be at most five years old, with an infectious smile and, from what it looked, a penchant for chaos. He was noisily running around the fountain, eyes sparkling with something that Marinette didn't realize she missed: childlike wonder.

But it wasn't the boy that caught her attention. In fact, she was much more preoccupied with the much older, and, in her opinion, much more eye-catching man who was carefully watching over the kid.

For the first time in a long time (or the first time, even?), Marinette felt her heart skip a beat.

Entranced, she watched as the stranger suddenly picked up the boy, throwing him up in the air to the latter's surprised glee. Marinette's eyes made their way to his arms, clearly well-built from what she assumed was years of manual labor. His outfit, despite being simple, also fitted and complemented his form perfectly; something that her inner fashionista appreciated, knowing more than a few men who had no idea how to dress well. It was, however, his face that drew her attention the most; blonde, with twinkling green eyes, and a stubbled grin that immediately turned her red, this seemed like the type of scene where Marinette was starting to believe in the notion of love at first sight.

Well, maybe it wasn't love (it was far too early for that): but there was definitely something there.

"He's hot, right? Totally your type."

Shaken out of her fantasy, Marinette quickly moved her arms— which she had been leaning over, unexpectedly doubling over and falling off the bench. Clutching her head with her hand, Marinette's eyes narrowed as she looked up toward her friend, who was snickering in sudden entertainment.. "Alya..."

But before she could continue her retort, a hand shot out to help her. "Oh, thank y—"

Suddenly, Marinette felt the need to double over again, as a pair of bright green eyes met hers.

"Are you okay?"

Alya finally broke into laughter, paying no mind to the curious glances and stares that were all pointed towards her. She was always a big personality, after all, and couldn't care less about what people thought (Marinette always felt that her best friend had no shame, being completely comfortable in her confidence: something that she had always envied. Especially now, with the very-hot-and-very-real-stranger-suddenly-talking-to-her.).

"U-Uh, yeah…" Marinette managed to mumble, taking his hand. It's warm. "Thank you."

Marinette stood then smoothed over her outfit, only realizing in quiet mortification that she was dressed in the tank top and pajama pants she had been wearing for the past three days. Suddenly becoming hyper-aware of her appearance, she quickly let go of his hand, then bowed.

Bowed.

"I- uh- falling for you- I mean, thank you for falling- no, wait! Thanks for- uh, helping me fall- when I fell! On the ground, obviously. Not for you, I mean, you're hot and all, but I- ah- wait!" Fumbling over her words, and steps, in extreme embarrassment, Marinette desperately grabbed at her wheezing friend's hands, then dashed away from the scene, her sudden loud voice piercing the park as she ran.

"THANKS!"

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Only when they end up a safe distance away from 'the scene of the crime' does Marinette finally let Alya go, who heaved a breath in apparent exhaustion. "What was…" another deep breath "… that for?!"

Marinette leaned over the building wall, catching her own breath. "Ohmygod I can't believe I just saidthat," she managed to say, the redness in her face not quite from the sudden run (after all, she did pride herself in being a fit person), but more on the embarrassment of what had just taken place.

She felt like the 13-year-old Marinette, stumbling over what to say and what to do when it came to who she was attracted to. She was proud to say that she had gotten over that after a few years, but when it came to him, now dubbed the Hot Park Stranger, it was like all those years meant nothing.

Marinette felt like her awkward teenage self all over again.

Alya went down to the sidewalk, clutching her chest in an attempt to get her breathing back to normal. "Come on, it wasn't that bad," she said, then laughed. "You just told a random stranger you fell for him; I mean, going a bit strong there, but you were never the subtle type anyways."

Sitting next to Alya, Marinette suddenly swatted her hand, pouting in response. "This is your fault." She finally remarked, pointedly.

"What do you mean my fault?!"

"If you hadn't pointed him out to me, I wouldn't have fallen over and—"

"Oh come on, you falling over was not because of me. That was just you being your regular klutzy self and—"

"Klutzy? I haven't been that much of a klutz in years! It's—"

"Please, who are you kidding? You cannot spell Marinette Dupain-Cheng without: K-L-U—"

"Then do tell me, please, where the letter 'K' IS IN MY—"

The curious stares of Parisians passing them in the street made the two pause, realizing how loudly they were speaking. They stared at each other for a minute, then burst into sudden laughter.

"We look so dumb," Alya finally said, picking herself up, then offering Marinette a hand.

Marinette gratefully takes it, then smiles. "Yeah, we do."

They giggle again, then loop their arms together to begin walking back to Marinette's office. "You know," Alya started. "Look at the bright side."

"What bright side?"

"Well, you'll probablynever see him again! So we can just tuck this away and pretend it never happened."

Marinette hummed thoughtfully, then smiled. "Guess you're right. Anyway, let's get going; you just made me leave a mountain of paperwork that should be finished by tomorrow morning."

"Oh, well, guess that's my cue to lea— ack!"

"There's no way you're leaving me; now come on, we have an all-nighter to pull."

"Awh, Mari!"

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end notes—

just more plot set-up with this chapter, no adrinette date yet (unfortunately). i may love writing alyanette bonding a little too much. however, the next chapters will finally focus on the romance, so do look forward to it. (this chapter was also deleted from some reason ? im p sure i uploaded this before bu y)

inspired by this prompt: "The hot single parent I'm into proposed a playdate for our kids and I happily agreed but I was actually talking about my pet please send help" AU.

thank you for reading! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～

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