Friday at School - Marinette's POV || 1 Day Until the Party

"Hey, Marinette! Do you have a second?"

The words froze her mid-step, her sneaker squeaking against the tiled floor. Marinette turned so fast her bag strap slipped off her shoulder. There he was—Adrien Agreste, golden-haired, impossibly perfect Adrien—standing just a few feet away near the lockers, his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets, and a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

She blinked. "M-me?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You."

It was Wednesday after school. Most of the class had already filtered out, excitedly buzzing about Chloe's upcoming party or lamenting the pile of homework waiting for them at home. The hallway had thinned, lockers clattered shut in the background, but Marinette's entire world had narrowed down to the boy standing in front of her.

Alya, who had been right beside her only seconds ago, gave Marinette a wide-eyed, silent look of encouragement and immediately took two steps back, mouthing, You got this! before vanishing like a supportive ninja.

Marinette cleared her throat and tried very hard not to sound like a malfunctioning toaster. "Uh—s-sure! What's up, Adrien?"

He smiled, that soft, crooked smile that made her knees tingle in ways no chiropractor could fix. "I, um, wanted to ask you something. About the party."

"Oh," she squeaked. "The... Chloe party?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's... well, there's a thing where we're all expected to come with a date."

Marinette's heart did a double-take. A date. Adrien Agreste was talking about dates. With her.

"I didn't realize that until recently," he went on, eyes flicking nervously to the floor. "And I was thinking... I mean, if you're not already going with someone, maybe... would you want to go with me?"

There it was. The words fell from his lips like glitter bombs, each syllable imploding in Marinette's brain in slow motion.

"G-go... with... you?" she repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded. "Yeah. As my date."

Her brain was a swirl of static. Somewhere in her chest, her heart was trying to crawl out of her ribcage and slap her in the face for freezing up. Her mouth opened and closed like a broken umbrella. Say something! Say anything! 

"B-but I thought you and Kagami--" 

Adrien hurriedly clarified, "We broke up over a month ago. Sorry I didn't correct you the other day." He smiled, blushing. "She was the one who told me I should ask you, actually. Well, Nino too but...anyways. Kagami says hi. So..." 

They broke up? But wouldn't that Marinette his rebound? Or was he the one who broke up with her because maybe he liked Mari--no that's ridiculous. There must be some other reason. 

Mistaking her silence as a no, Adrien looked down and said, "I understand if you don't want to go with me. I just thought I'd ask." 

Come on Marinette, say something that isn't stupid! 

"No! I—y-yes?" she said finally, voice about three octaves higher than she intended. "I mean—yes! I would—uh—love to go. With you. As your—date."

Adrien's whole face lit up. "Really? That's awesome. I was kind of nervous you'd say no."

"You were?" she breathed, blinking furiously.

He laughed lightly. "Yeah. I mean, you're Marinette. You're amazing and talented and always so put together—"

Put together? Her right shoe was untied and her hair still had glitter from the craft table in Madame Bustier's class.

"I thought you might already be going with someone," he continued. "You always have, like, a million things going on."

"I-I do," she managed to say, her face burning. "I mean—not a date. Just things. Not—like—not romantic things. I mean—ugh, I sound like a goose."

"A really cute goose," he said before he could stop himself.

They both froze.

Adrien flushed. "I mean—uh—just a joke! That didn't come out right—"

"No, no! I—it's fine! That's—I mean—honk?"

They stared at each other. And then, like the universe finally hit the "resume" button, both of them burst into laughter.

It was awkward and perfect and so very them.

From around the corner, Alya peeked back in just long enough to fist-pump and whisper, "Victory!" before ducking out again.

After the laughter faded, Adrien glanced down at his shoes, suddenly shy again. "Thanks for saying yes. I was... kind of hoping you would."

Marinette's heart thudded so loudly she was sure it echoed off the lockers. "I... yeah. I'm glad you asked."

He nodded, slowly backing away. "I should, uh, get going. But I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yup!" she said, popping the p. "Tomorrow. Absolutely. Totally. See you then."

With a small wave, he turned and walked off. Marinette stood there a moment longer, still processing what had just happened.

Then she spun around and bolted straight into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind her.

"TIKKI!" she whisper-yelled, gasping for breath as if she'd just finished a marathon.

Tikki popped out of her purse. "Did he ask you?"

"He asked me!"

"And you said yes?"

"I SAID YES!" Marinette squealed, throwing her arms in the air and twirling in place. "I'm going to the party with Adrien! Adrien Agreste!"

Tikki beamed. "I knew he liked you."

"He said I was amazing. He called me a cute goose!"

There was a pause.

"A cute... goose?" Tikki asked, one tiny brow lifting.

"It doesn't matter!" Marinette beamed, flopping back into a chair with the dreamy look of someone who had just made accidental eye contact with Cupid. "Nothing matters! He asked me!"

But even as she floated on that cloud of joy, part of her couldn't help the little voice whispering in her head.

Don't mess this up.

******

Marinette was at her workstation, sleeves rolled up, colored pencils arranged in a neat line, sketchbook open to a fresh page. Her laptop, propped beside her with reference images and old portfolio files, displayed her shortlist of concept ideas for the Gabriel Agreste internship application. A steaming mug of tea sat nearby, untouched, going cold from neglect. She hadn't taken a sip in over an hour.

Because Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in the zone.

Tikki floated behind her shoulder, occasionally pausing to peek at the evolving designs with a look of admiration. "These are really good, Marinette."

Marinette's pencil moved in confident, clean strokes. "They feel different, don't they? Like... better?"

Tikki smiled. "They're you. Honest. Original. Confident."

That word again. Confident.

Just yesterday, Marinette wasn't sure she could pull together a submission worthy of someone like Gabriel Agreste. She had spiraled over everything—from her technical skill to her color theory to whether her entire artistic voice was just derivative fluff wrapped in polka dots and bows. But now...

Adrien had asked her out.

Not as Ladybug. Not because he was being polite. But as Marinette. Quirky, anxious, often-disastrous Marinette. Her.

And somehow, that tiny shift—being chosen, being seen—had cracked open something long buried beneath her insecurities: a belief that maybe she could be everything she dreamed of.

Marinette paused, lifting her pencil and staring down at her latest sketch. It was bold—a high fashion reinterpretation of the classic Chinese qipao with asymmetrical lines, structured shoulders, and layered chiffon that flowed like water. The embroidery would tell a story: cranes rising into a moonlit sky. Strong. Delicate. Beautiful.

She grinned.

"I've never drawn like this," she whispered.

Tikki floated over the desk, nodding. "You're trusting yourself more."

"Yeah," Marinette said, blinking at the realization. "I am."

She closed the sketchbook gently, hands resting on the cover. "I've spent so long second-guessing everything. Adrien, Ladybug, being good enough for anything... but when he asked me to the party today, something changed."

Tikki tilted her head.

Marinette looked out the window. "He made me feel like I mattered. Not because I'm clever or helpful or convenient, but because I'm me."

Her fingers absently trailed along the edge of the sketchbook. "I think that's what I want this collection to be about. Not just fancy silhouettes or trendy fabrics. I want it to say something."

"Like what?"

"Like... 'You don't have to change who you are to be worth something.'" Marinette turned back to Tikki, her blue eyes glowing with quiet fire. "I want every piece to feel like a celebration of someone real. Someone who might not always have it all together, but still shines."

Tikki beamed. "That sounds like a winning theme to me."

Marinette stood up and stretched, arching her back and groaning at the way her spine crackled. She paced her small room, energy crackling under her skin. The pressure of the internship deadline no longer paralyzed her—it motivated her. She was finally starting to understand what her voice was.

She paused in front of her closet, opening the doors to reveal rows of half-finished garments, spare fabrics, and a mannequin in the corner still wearing a mockup from a year ago.

"I should scrap that," she said, staring at the stiff lines of a structured blazer that never quite worked.

Tikki peeked over her shoulder. "Why? I thought you liked that one."

"I did, but I was designing it for Gabriel Agreste. Not for me." She bit her lip, considering. "I think that's what I've been doing wrong. Designing for what I think people want, instead of trusting what I want to say."

She turned back to the mannequin and gently peeled the old blazer off, hanging it on the "maybe" rack. Then she rummaged through a nearby bin of fabric, pulling out something softer—more flowing, with a subtle shimmer like starlight.

"This is it," she said, laying the fabric across the desk. "This feels like me."

The excitement built again as she began to re-sketch her concepts. This time, the collection wasn't stiff or impersonal. It had movement. It breathed.

Tikki watched in silence, proud.

"You know," Marinette said as she pinned a few swatches onto a vision board. "It's kind of funny."

"What is?"

"I thought the internship was my dream because of Gabriel. But maybe it's my dream because... it's mine. Not because I want to impress him. But because I want to create."

Tikki nodded slowly. "You've grown a lot, Marinette."

Marinette smiled thoughtfully. "Yeah. I guess I have."

Just then, her phone buzzed from where it lay next to her laptop. She glanced over and her heart skipped. A new message from Adrien.

                   [Adrien]: Just wanted to say thanks again for saying yes. Really looking forward to the party. 😊

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, her cheeks warm with a new, fluttery feeling that wasn't panic—but promise.

[Marinette]: Me too 😊

She hit send before she could overthink it.

And then, after a moment of just holding her phone and smiling like an idiot, she set it down and took a deep breath. Her eyes returned to the fabric, the sketches, and the fire inside her that felt like it had finally been lit.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was ready.

Not just for the party. Not just for Adrien.

But for everything she'd been afraid to believe she deserved.

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So proud of our Sunshine for asking Marinette out! Mari was total girl boss that second scene, whoo, you go girl!