I'm gonna be frank, I'm posting this for the sake of finishing something. I've been writing a ton for two weeks but nothing that's complete. I've worked on scenes, dialogue, syntax etc. But couldn't do it all on one story.

So this is for the books of "Things I did and I don't care if its bad, cause I did it."

I always write to improve, so comments and critiques are welcome! Please rip this to bits! Thank you!

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Alya is leaning on her elbows, hair wild after running to the table, with a piece of paper pinched between her middle finger and thumb— her eyes are shining at Marinette like she found the holy grail of journalism news. Marinette glances at the paper, its a torn scrap with a flourished writing of numbers, definitely not Alya's journalistic scrawl.

"You will not believe what I just found." Alya says.

"Didn't you just come out of the bathroom?"

"Treasures know no bounds." Alya tosses her hair back and plops into her seat. The scrap is waved around like a prize and her smile is downright mischievous. This woman can find a news story in a piece of lint so Marinette is loathe to crush her friend's glee.

"I suppose it's a number to somewhere very important. Coordinates to nuclear codes?" Marinette teases.

"Oh, you'll blow something when I tell you, but it isn't that. What I hold is the digits-" Alya pauses for effect. "-to the number one bachelor in all of Paris."

Marinette gasps. "Alfredo Linguini?"

"No, my unsuspecting friend. A certain acquaintance you may remember as, Adrien. Agreste."

Marinette raises her brows and takes another sip from her mocha, looking very impressed. "Amazing. Why does this matter again?"

Alya points at Marinette and shakes her head. "You were in love with Gabriel's son just like every other girl in Paris, don't deny it."

"Yeah. Eight years ago, and I never knew him in person. It was a shallow crush at best."

"But now you work with him! This is the time to reel him in."

"Are you really trying to set me up a week after I broke up with John Paul?"

"I told you, never trust a person with two names. They'll always say they deserve a second chance when they mess up. You just switch names and its like a new person."

"That's still a bad joke." Marinette sighs. "You have a boyfriend, why can't you get your romantic kicks with him instead of setting me up all the time?"

"Nino and I are already acting like an old marry couple. Very domestic."

"How about Ladybug and Chat Noir? You like making risqué love columns about them."

"Now that they're ancient, its harder to get dish on them. Plus it seems my previous theories were wrong about them being together. Chat is clearly hooked on another girl."

"What do you mean?"

"You know those besotted looks Nino use to get before we got together? And we could tell it was about me because his face would change suddenly when I came through the door, like a defense mechanism?" Alya asks. "Chat is the opposite. He gets besotted looks and when the girl enters, he goes supernova with pheromones. He doesn't do that with Ladybug anymore."

Alya is right, but she was hoping she wouldn't catch on. Chat Noir use to be infatuated with Ladybug when they first began their adventures, but Ladybug refused to take interest, so he fell in love with someone else. She never asked who, she never wants to interfere with his civilian life, but he always takes a chance to mention her.

"Sooo, what are you going to do with the number?" Marinette inquires.

"Oh no, this is still for you." Alya tosses the paper in front of Marinette. It floats down like an innocent sign from the love gods but Marinette knows its a menace brought by the gods of pain and pining.

"Why?" Marinette jerks her cup harder than intended and a splash lands on her shirt. Clumsy."We hardly talk. I only know him from work and magazine articles."

Adrien Agreste does photo shoots, runways, and, on rare occasion, attends parties and passes pleasantries, but Marinette generally doesn't talk to him. She's tried having men in her life from the fashion industry and, to put it simply, Gucci bras could provide more support than her ex-boyfriends.

Adrien maybe the son of her favorite designer on the planet, but he's still just another guy. A gorgeous guy with lush hair, bright green eyes, and the body of pure sex-appeal— but still a normal guy.

"What will I even say?" Marinette whines.

"What do you normally say before guys ask you out?"

"I don't."

"Well, he must be the one, cause you're going to initiate. Where's your phone? Front pocket?"

Marinette flails and sputters as Alya man handles her front breast pocket. You'd think as a journalist should would have deft pick- pocketing skills.

"You really need to change your password."

"I'll keep that in mind when a matchmaking burglar comes along." Marinette pouts. She thinks about having an impromptu conversation with a man she always admired from a distance and her nerves increase. "You aren't really calling him are you?"

The phone is smacked in the middle of the table and Marinette jolts in her seat. Alya taps the speaker. Marinette hears the death tolls of her acquaintance with Adrien Agreste. Her mind is whirring with all the possible ways he'll say no.

"Alya, I need alcohol. I might faint."

"Alcohol can make you faint."

"Well, maybe I want to faint faster."

On the last ring there is an answer, "Hello?"

"Hi! Is this Adrien Agreste?" Marinette automatically hears her voice go to " curtesy client call" mode. Her friends always said it was so sweet it was like the Annabelle doll before she steals your soul. Maybe it'll scare him off.

"Yes. Who is this?" Adrien responds. He doesn't hang up. What's the point of lady luck if she can't get out of potentially embarrassing phone calls?

"It's Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm a designer for Zagg Fashion. We've worked together a few times." Just keep it simple, keep it honest. Remember to breathe.

Imagine him naked?

No, don't imagine him naked.

A thump sounds on the line, like a person hitting something, followed by a curse and a small laugh not belonging to Adrien. Marinette's brows scrunch as she looks at Alya.

Alya gives a nonchalant shrug and gestures to relax. That's like asking to relax before a train wreck.

"W-wow, he—HI. Marinette, what a surprise. How'd you get my number?"

"Public bathroom floor." Marinette replies without a thought. That was too honest, wasn't it? "Are you okay? I heard you hit something."

"Oh—uh, that was just my cat? Plagg." Adrien says. An angry grumble echoes in the background.

"Is he always so grumpy?"

"Only when the really cute girls call. Might be jealous."

Marinette releases a nervous laugh. "Maybe I'll ask him out to dinner instead. I like a challenge."

"Trust me, he's more work than he's worth. What do you mean 'instead'?" Adrien's voice leers into what sounds like a smile. Marinette's stomach flips.

"Umm, yeah, the reason I called was…I don't have plans tonight. And I thought, tonight feels like a Netflix and Chill night—but not that kind of—! Well, not that I've never had one but—" Was she always this bad at dodging questions? How doesn't everyone know Marinette is Ladybug?

"You want to Netflix and Chill…with me, tonight?" The buzzing in Marinette's ears must have imagined the husky tone.

"That's not entirely what I meant to say—"

"I'm coming over in a few hours. I'll text you when I'm close. Your favorite Thai joint is Bistros on 42nd, yeah?" He says the words in a quick breath which continues the throaty tone. Does the room feel warm?

"Wha—um, okay. Sure. How did you know I like Thai?"

"Ah, you must have told me or something. Few hours? I can't wait, princess." Adrien's voice is bordering on gleeful, if Marinette could believe it. He hangs up in moments and Marinette is more lost than ever.

"Do you still need that alcohol?" Alya asks.

"Adrien Agreste is bringing Bistros to my apartment and then we're going to…well maybe he doesn't know. It's possible he doesn't know, right?"

In several hours, Marinette has her answer and she has to admit she was disappointed. If he is going to make her gasp and clutch at her furniture, at least have the decency to choose a bad movie she will never watch again. How will she ever look Toothless in the face again?

Note to the fabulous comments: Thank you all for liking this story, I truly appreciate it, and HUGE thanks if you made a criticism. I like knowing where I need to improve.

If you're wondering if I will continue, I honestly have no clue where I could go with this, but I'll keep it in mind as a challenge on a rainy day. No guarantees!