All rights to Miraculous Ladybug belong to Zagtoon, Method Animation, Thomas Astruc, and Disney. This is my own creative work.
Looks can be deceiving, as the old saying went. Take a perfectly calm and normal Paris for example.
Street musicians playing, traffic bustling at every corner, and every man strolling down the sidewalk with a lady on his arm. Tourists at her jewel landmarks snapping shots and kids walking to and from school with ice cream from the man with a song in his heart. A picture-perfect Paris one would find on the back of a postcard or calendar at their local store.
Without mentioning the superheroes and constant disasters.
Citizens of Paris could imagine it had been a long month for their beloved hero pair, Ladybug and Cat Noir, as every news report and digital article confirmed. While they had spent their days as normal, those two were tackling dangers left and right. Ladybug had stopped an out-of-control bus while Cat Noir had rescued people trapped in a burning building. Where Ladybug had shut down an armed robbery, Cat Noir's intervention prevented a full-on prison break.
The odd Sentimonster had crawled from the depths as well, but again, nothing those two couldn't handle. Even without Akumas, their city, as sad as it was to admit, was a hotbed of dangers.
Luckily, they were on a winning streak, with Paris riding behind in high spirits. That meant less Akumas. Something to be glad about.
As Nadja Chamack, well-known newscaster, reported. "Don't be bemused, it's just the news! Nadja Chamack here and this was but the latest in this month's highlight reel of exploits by the heroes of Paris. In honor of Ladybug and Cat Noir's continued efforts to defend Paris, community officials have come together to announce the Heroes' Ball! A costume ball where all members of the public are invited to dress up and express gratitude to-"
"Wow! The month flew by! To think we're a few days away from the ball!" Marinette lifted her gaze from her sketchpad.
As always, she was enjoying herself with some free sketching. Her bluebell eyes refocused from the heavy white of her paper, the start of a new dress design forming, to the millions of pink hues adorning her room. The Sunday morning light stung, though she blinked it away and looked to the live report on her computer screen.
"A whole night of dancing and costumes. It sounds like a lot of fun." Her Kwami, Tikki, said floating by her side
"-for one night only. Admission is free and all are encouraged to attend." Nadja continued. "We now go to Mayor Bourgeois, the organizer of the event."
The screen changed from a promotional poster highlighting the heroes' silhouettes atop dancing shadows to the mayor himself. His suit was primed as always with his sash proud, but the man looked as though he'd been sweating waterfalls. Not surprising with it being the middle of summer and months trickling like sand until the next mayoral election.
"We hope that this celebration is proper homage to our great heroes." Mayor Bourgeois remained calm, though Marinette caught the small waver in his voice. "I have allowed it to be held here at the Place des Vosges.
"He's totally trying to get votes." Marinette sighed.
"The mayor's intentions aside, it is nice to see everyone getting together to celebrate your accomplishments." Tikki spoke. "You've been doing a great job lately, Marinette."
"Thanks, Tikki. I think parties should be more of an everyday thing." She tickled her Kwami's tummy with a finger.
"Really?"
"Yeah, people would be a lot happier a lot more often. Makes our job easy too. Look at how excited people are getting."
Marinette pulled her phone and opened an app to social media. Comments were coming in like crazy, and most of them positive. She'd almost expected her phone to vibrate from the messages in all caps that were really just text-screaming.
She spun her chair away to her workplace. "Of course, on the other hand, that also means more interviews and stuff. The press and fans have been crazy lately. I could have sworn someone was trying to get a piece of my hair!"
"Oh, did they?"
"I don't know but I could swear I felt something in the back of my head." She rubbed her right pigtail. "Cat Noir I'm shocked at, though. I know that kitty gets spoiled at attention, and he nearly beat people back with his staff!"
They both giggled.
"Don't let it wear you out. The two of you have been working hard. Be proud of that." Tikki spoke and hugged her cheek.
Her phone jingled. Looking at the screen, there was her saved image of her best friend – glasses, fiery red hair, and a sassy wink all in one firecracker package. Marinette grinned and pressed the button.
"Girl, tell me you saw it!" Loud as expected, Marinette thought.
"Yes, Alya, I saw. I could feel your expectation hovering over me. That, and you've been reminding me for the past week."
"Way to keep up with the well-informed. Stage one complete." Alya laughed. "Now stage two. You do realize the ball is in a few days – I take it Marinette the fashion queen of tomorrow has her costume all ready to go?"
Marinette went stiff as a board; she saw this landmine coming. "About that. Alya, I'm probably not gonna go."
"Wha-Seriously!? Don't tell me you're going AWOL again?"
Marinette winced. Yeah, that was pretty much it.
There was the old feeling of guilt like a wrecking ball to her gut that came when she gave the classic combo of 'no' and a smile. The continued protection of Paris and her role as Ladybug were a valid defense, but when your friend ran the most popular web blog on said hero, honesty was as good as a gunshot to the head. Alya had been trying to sniff her out in all the two years she'd been a hero. To think a superhero fanatic like her wouldn't get the 'secret identity' bit.
But today's excuse had a dash of truth in it. Marinette fell back on her unique skill to mask the sadness in her voice with cheer. "Sorry, I've just got a lot of work to catch up on. There's my commissions and the homework assignment-"
"The same homework assignment that isn't even due for another week?"
"The very same. You know me, I like to get a head-start on things."
"Head-start? This coming from the girl I practically need to call the National Guard to wake up?"
"Joke all you want, but I insist."
Alya gave a sigh, garbled and pixelated from the speaker of her phone. Marinette felt a familiar chill up her spine to her hair which now stood on end as she gulped. Even without her on video chat, she knew the cogs in the vile machine of darkness known as Alya Cesaire's brain were turning.
"Alya, whatever you're thinking, forget it." She had to put her foot down before it was too late. She set her phone to the desk, ready to hang up. "I really am busy, so no matter what you say, I am not going to the ball."
"I heard Adrien's going to be there…"
She snatched her phone back. "WHAT TIME IS THAT BALL, AGAIN!?"
Alya laughed on the other end, no doubt imagining the mad dash Marinette made that left her books and pencils scattered like the aftermath of her crush explosion. The one that may have… happened. Marinette loved Alya to death, but she could curse her grave too.
Adrien, the love of her life, her one weakness. One mention of his name and her willpower would crumble. Alya's continued laughter was not helping the heat in her cheeks.
"So you DO have a costume ready?" Alya asked calming down. "Nitty-gritty first, since you like to get a head-start on things..."
"W-W-Well, I, uh…"
"Marinette!" Tikki chimed in.
The girl turned to her Kwami who was now an inch from her face, startling her.
"You can't seriously intend to go to the ball!" The red spirit chided.
"But Tikki, it's Adrien! Adrien! AAAddrrriiieeennn!" She moaned. Perfect gentlemen Adrien, top teen model and celebrity Adrien, angel descended to Earth with a beauty so radiant the gods hide in shame Adrien. Argument done. Marinette threw in puppy-dog eyes for insurance, just in case.
Tikki bounced on a key on her keyboard and the report zoomed back to Nadja. She spoke the portion Marinette missed, focused in her creative spell. "The public eagerly hopes for the appearance of Ladybug and Cat Noir at the event as special guests."
Oh, right…
"You see?" Tikki said, pausing the news again. "Everyone wants Ladybug to be there! Who knows how many questions they'll ask – like you said the reporters have been extra fervent lately. Going there could jeopardize your identity!"
"Don't worry, Tikki," said Marinette with a composing breath. "I actually do have a costume."
"Wait, really?"
"Well, not yet." The girl shrugged. "But I do have one of these earlier designs. With a few tweaks I could turn it into an awesome hero costume! That'll work, right?"
Tikki blinked and smiled. "Uh, okay. That will do just fine. I'm sorry I got so worked up. I should have known you always find a solution to every problem."
"It's okay. Thank you for always looking out for me, Tikki." Marinette gave a peck to her Kwami's head.
"Alya, stage two cleared. Be ready because I will be going to that ball. She stood triumphant. "And by the end of the night, you will see Adrien and me… holding hands! Or something!"
"Right…" She drawled. "I take it I should bring the usual? A written speech, a blanket, and flowers for your grave?"
"Ha-ha. I'll see you this Saturday." Marinette hung up.
As soon as the air was free of Alya's ghostly smirk she allowed herself to melt into her chair. The puddle that was her body was most likely steaming and her hands moved with all the speed of running cream cheese from a pastry. She could make out Tikki looking over her and shaking her head in the mist of the rosy haze muddling her view. But she didn't care. Only one thought ran through her mind, locking her in ecstasy.
"Adrien… Adrien's going to be at the Heroes' Ball…"
"I need to be at the Heroes' Ball!"
Adrien laid face-up in his bed with only enough strength to hold his tablet. The folds of his bedspread were now chains holding him to the surface. With the heaviness in his eyelids and stray hairs from his bangs, the poster of the Heroes' Ball on the screen looked to have a halo surrounding it.
He breathed and sighed taking in a renewed sweetness in air. For the past month, his schedule as a model had increased tenfold. Photoshoots, interviews, shootings for a new advertisement, one after the other, day in and day out staring into the black hole of a camera lens losing his youthful soul to the would of high society. Add to that the continued exploits of being Cat Noir and saving Paris from danger. It was a miracle his arms still had the power to bend.
His Kwami, the cat-like spirit of destruction, drifted in a haze of happy with his favorite treat of Camembert in hand. Adrien stifled another sigh as his arms fell while all Plagg did was munch. Loudly.
"What, being hounded by news dogs and trampled by fangirls is your idea of relaxing?" He gulped down the last of his cheese in one go. "You're finally starting to think like a celebrity!"
"That's not it, Plagg. The report said Ladybug is going to be there."
"Did you miss the part with 'the public eagerly hopes'? I wouldn't go putting down bets if I were you."
"I know she'll show – Ladybug never misses a chance to let the people know she's there for them. It's just one of the many ways she's amazing." Adrien mused. He gripped the spread, rubbing the pristine fabric between his fingers. "All my friends will be there too, you know? I haven't seen them in so long..."
His gaze into the white heaven of his ceiling miles away was cut off by a face full of black fur and green beady eyes. "So what, you'll be there as Cat Noir AND Adrien? You can't have the best of both worlds, kid. That'd be like me wanting Camembert but also Reblochon, but my stomach only has room for one!"
"Plagg, when have you ever NOT had room in your stomach for cheese?"
The Kwami huffed. "Look, if you wanna go, then go. You're a grown human boy, you can make your own decisions."
Adrien sat up, an eyebrow raised. He loved his Kwami dearly, but Plagg was a lazy and selfish creature at heart; any kind words from him reeked worse than the goop he ate with ulterior motives. "Really? You want me to go?"
"Well, even if Ladybug doesn't show up, which she won't, and your friends stay home, at least we'll enjoy the catering!"
"My point proven."
Intentions aside, Plagg had still given him the push he needed to drag himself from his bed to the door. His body ached and cracked going down the flight of steps, but it had the vigor needed to do what needed to be done.
Plagg was right, he was old enough to make his own decisions. That decision was a night he would be sure to engrave in his most cherished memories. A chance to laugh and talk with his friends about games, the goings-on at school, and whatever other dumb things. To just bask in the warm feel of belonging. Maybe he'd even see the girl he was head-over-heels in love with and dance with her and the stars as their witnesses.
A warm smile lit his face. Only to be stopped cold when he saw Natalie before the door to his father's study.
"Adrien, you are supposed to be in your room right now. You need to be prepared for tomorrow."
The woman's empty stare behind her glasses and business-only tone might throw off others, but not him. "I just need to speak with my father for a moment, Natalie. It's important."
"Your father is busy preparing a new design. He isn't to be disturbed for any reason."
"It's alright, Natalie." A toneless yet powerful voice came through the crack in the door behind. "Let him in."
Natalie nodded and stepped aside, looking to the boy with permission.
He crossed through the doorway, heart thundering in his chest, towards the center of the room. It wasn't something he liked, to know that approaching a parent could leave him so shaken inside. Yet there was Gabriel Agreste, genius among geniuses, his form taut and perfect, oblivious to the world where his son was. His only movement was from his pupils and fingers darting along the screen like a machine programmed with a symphony of ideas. Even with how large his house already was, and only a few feet between them, the man's silence only served to increase the distance by miles.
Adrien bowed his head like a servant to his master in humble respect. "Father, I wanted to ask-"
"I know what you are going to ask and I forbid it. You are not allowed to go out that night."
"Father, with all due respect, why not? I've done all my shoots, done exactly as you instructed in interviews. Even the editors said it was my best work yet." Adrien walked to his father, his vigor fading with each step. The closer he came, the more his form seemed to shrink. One side glance from the man and Adrien could well poof out of existence.
"It is a community event." Gabriel spoke baritone. The man was so resolute and focused he didn't even blink. "Members of the public will be there."
"Please don't start that again. We've been over this…"
"In addition," the man continued. Adrien's argument died on his tongue as he buried his head between his shoulders. "The press will also be in attendance. The last shoot for our new formal wear collection begins the day of the ball."
"I know, but-"
"Not only that, but you have a fencing match that day as well. As Natalie said, you need to be prepared."
Adrien withered with that statement, or verdict. His father left no room for argument on the matter, ever.
He twisted his ring, something he did in the times his father brought the planet-sized weight of his schedule on his shoulders. The boy always did it in the hopes the rebellious do-or-die attitude he sported as Cat Noir could rub off on him. With a deep breath, he looked square at his father once more.
"Father, please…" Good so far – his voice was level. "Let me do this and I'll be sure to give extra effort to the advertisement. I'll train hard for my fencing match too. I promise to rise above your expectations."
At last, his father's eyes, gray and hard as rock, rose from the screen. Still not a hint of emotion, though.
"Are you certain? You know my expectations of you are quite high."
Adrien knew. Several long years of laboring as a celebrity for his father's brand as support through their shared grief made him an expert. The boy stood there, answering with a fire in his emerald eyes that was quickly flickering. His father did this often, waging this silent battle of wills hoping he'd crumble.
But he knew if it was important to his son, Adrien wouldn't cave. If there was anything Agreste men knew by heart, it was that absence makes the heart grow fonder. The older man finally returned to his work without a hint of interest.
"You will give this 'extra effort' for your next three photoshoots… and we have a deal." Gabriel shut his eyes, weary.
Adrien's however, lit up brighter than all of Paris. "Thank you, father! You won't regret this!"
The boy bowed and ran out the room. He nearly trampled Natalie in his wake and gave a quick apology to her. Out in the foyer, he jumped and raised his fist with a cheer that echoed through the halls. All that was left was to get through the week and an evening of dreams and smiles was his.
"Ugh, dial it down with the happy." Plagg whined poking his head from Adrien's jacket. "I'm gonna be sick!"
Whine all you want, Plagg, he thought. Bring it on, Paris, he thought. Nothing was going to ruin this.
The week passed quick and Saturday came with the night of the ball was at hand. Cinderella vibes were in full effect.
Marinette smiled, in pride and in pain from all her needle pricks. "It's done, Tikki! What do you think?"
"Oh, Marinette, it's fantastic! It's definitely your best work yet!"
The rest of Sunday had been spent scouring through web images and comic books loaned from Alya for inspiration. Finally landing on Majestia, Alya's personal favorite, she went to town on a small, bright red one-piece she had made months earlier for her website. She threw in a sash and skirt around the waist and ribbon around the arms and legs, with a braid around the side to complete it. It was a Chinese take on the superhero's garment honoring heroes and heritage.
"Everyone at the ball will be so impressed!" Tikki gushed. "Especially Alya!"
"You think Adrien will like it?" Marinette asked turning to the Kwami with blue sparkles of hope in her eyes. "I mean, he's a model and everything, and the son of a famous designer, and they're both at the top of the fashion world. He's used to major brand names and everything. This is totally amateur hour over here. Maybe I shouldn't use-"
"Marinette! Can you come down? We need some help!"
Her mother's sweet as powdered sugar voice came from floors down through the trap door. Both Marinette and Tikki breathed a sigh. The downfall of a large imagination was it could spiral into negative territory easily. And in her case, often.
"Coming, mom!" Marinette called back.
The outfit was fine, it was well done. Her work had been given praise from Adrien and his father in the past. This would be no different. But… maybe a second opinion wouldn't hurt…
"Marinette, what are you doing?" Tikki asked worriedly.
"I'm just going to show this to my parents." The girl stripped the mannequin bare of the main outfit. Holding it, her fingers trembled almost trying to keep the excellence contained. "I mean, it was done with a Chinese style, and my mom is Chinese, so she'd have a good idea, right?"
Her red Kwami zipped to her shoulder. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
But in a whirlwind of second and third thoughts, Marinette was already down the trap door and flying down the staircase to the bakery. Tikki followed and slipped into her owner's jacket, her sixth sense telling her the girl would need some support. Moments like these were a prelude to something.
Making it to the side door, she grabbed her pink apron on the coat rack her mother had left for her. The girl's hand froze at the door when a muffled crash was heard at the other side. She opened it and was met with a chorus of high-pitched screams.
Her father's large form was a flour-dusted blur running back and forth between the sides of the bakery. One second, he was mixing batter, the next he was checking the oven, and the next after he was burying an innocent cupcake in mounds of frosting. She dodged around him, hugging her outfit tight so it wouldn't meet a frosted fate.
At the front of was a couple with a ravenous crowd of little kids running around shrieking, bouncing with little baby fangs glistening with hunger for bloody sweetness. The kid in Marinette could hardly fault them, the smells in the air of her family's bakery alone could put folks into a sugar rush. To the complaints of their parents they shook tables, licked glass for a taste of the display cakes, and threw sippy cups in the air.
Her mother's fingers tapped the register with lightning speed as she wrote and spoke and spread her best customer-service hospitality smile. Sabine Dupain-Cheng was an angel, but Marinette had to admit seeing the stray hairs, even she had an end to her rope. Marinette, mouth agape with her bundle of outfit in arm, barely caught her mother's eye.
"Oh, honey, is that you?" Her mom answered straining her sweet tone. "Could you help your father in the bakery?"
"Sure, mom." Marinette tried to yell above all the screaming. "But could I possibly get yours and dad's opinion on-"
And that's when it happened.
"I want cake now!" One of the kids screamed. He threw his sippy cup out.
Marinette gasped. The cup spilled and splattered citrus acid out its hole. One drop of the stuff and her outfit would be ruined. Like the cup had known that, it sinisterly reached for her, standing there helplessly.
Suddenly, the door to the bakery behind her swung open with her father behind. The cup bounced off the door's rim.
The cup bounced off a shelf overhead and fell to the ground.
The shelf in question was rickety, Marinette knew. One of the cakes that she had put there in hopes it wouldn't fall did just that from the right end.
Its tray and the contents hit the handle of a serving board. Where another cake atop it flew.
Her mother turned to the commotion. The couple of the children watched too. It was some comedic sequence of events with the climax now in slow motion. Marinette went wide-eyed as the cake was coming towards her. An evil grin was seen from the strawberries and whipped cream that lined the top.
The girl found her Ladybug gusto at last in that moment. With her reflexes, she side-stepped aside. The cake hit the ground next to her with a splat.
"Phew! That was close!" She whistled. The outfit tumbled further out of her grip.
"What was that?" Her father asked turning around, with a…
SPLAT!
Marinette wasn't sure what had happened. She thought she was in the clear – she'd stepped out of harm's way and the fates were smiling in her favor. At least until her father had turned around with a birthday cake half his size. Now it was half of that… and the other half… was all over her outfit.
Along with a new stain from another kid who threw their sippy cup. Their parent scooped them up and apologized quick.
No one else in the neighborhood knew what had happened. All they would ever know or guess was that the bakery was its source. But suddenly, Paris felt a force strong enough to trigger the Richter scale.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Hello there, Miraculous fandom! Glad to be here!
This is my first Miraculous Ladybug story. I actually started watching this show not long ago – about a couple of months, to this point. I thought the show was fun and interesting. The characters are fun and I'll admit, this is the first time I've ever gotten interested in shipping anything – which is an accomplishment in my book.
At some point I looked to fan-works. I saw a story prompt for 'Marichat May' about a costume party. I thought it was a lot of fun, so that's how the idea for this fanfic began. This isn't going to be anything heavy – just a short story a few chapters long. I intend for it to be a warm-up for another fanfic I plan to start working on as soon as this one is done.
So really, I'm hoping the characters are on point and the writing is okay. Let me know what you guys think.
A few notes: chronologically, this takes place a little after the events of 'Frightningale' in season 2. Also, I know a lot of people use the French spelling of Chat Noir instead of Cat. I won't do that. I watched the English version first and I hear 'Cat Noir' so that's what I will write.
As I always say, review, favorite, follow!