Miraculous Ladybug: One Shots

Lifelessness

SONG OF THE SHOT:
Whatever It Takes - Imagine Dragons

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Nervous sweat puddled beneath her dark pigtails. Red facial paint concealed the area around her eyes, masking her real identity. It was the single biggest match of the season, drawing a record breaking crowd, and tonight would be one tough battle. Ladybug, the professional boxer, was ready to fight her opponent to the death. Clearly, no one was going to be taking the other's life literally, but the loser's would be over by means of futile reputation.

She had just finished warming up her muscles, throwing a few practice punches with her best friend, and trainer, Alya. Her ears could comprehend the classical, nerve calming music that drifted about the small dressing room. There was only a mere smattering of minutes before the match began. Extra deodorant was applied, hair ties wrapped tight and fresh socks applied underneath her sneakers before she stepped out of the room and into the loading pit.

It was there that her piled nervousness diminished, hearing the spectators roar. She drew a few breaths, trying to get her heart rate managed. Once the announcer had called her stage name, Ladybug was on the loose. Bass pumping songs blasted from the ridiculously enlarged speakers. Ladybug rolled her neck around, stretching her turgid muscles out. Red was her signature color, holding one's eye captive.

As soon as Ladybug's less than colorful competition made her way into the ring, all bets were off. The first round had begun. Fists flying, Ladybug had the upper hand, the match falling into her lap with ease. By the time the second round had commenced, her opponent decided to strike unexpectedly, knocking Ladybug down to her back. The air had been stolen from her lungs, gasping for breath to return to the organs. Embarrassingly enough, Ladybug was carted out of the ring by means of a gurney.

Through the audience she was wheeled, many fans taking hold of her hands as she passed. Some chanted, most gave pitiful glances, while some whispered encouragement in her ears. In the very last section, Ladybug's eye caught a strike of blonde with the lightest of eyes among a swell of black headed people and brunettes. The person held her attention until she rounded the corner toward the nurse's station.

The girl had ten minutes to return to duke out the final round. Any more than that and the match would be forfeited.

"The hell, Ladybug? Do you have a death wish?! You know better than to underestimate your opponent. What happened out there?" Alya came storming into the room. Her yelling was annoying and too loud, forcing Ladybug to cover her ears in search of relief. "It all happened in the blink of an eye, Alya. I don't know what you want me to say to you," she retorted.

"I want to hear you say that you're going back out there and that you're going to kick her butt."

With a nod of the head, and the doctor's permission, Ladybug confidently walked back into the small arena. Cheers and shouts were heard amongst her arrival. When her eye caught the same blonde from earlier, she sent a sly wink toward the boy.

To the dark headed girl, the rest was a blur; all until the last winning punch was executed. Ladybug's lucky left hook was unexpected, as she rarely threw it. She was a predominantly right handed person, so the move was typically a shock to her opponent. The girl in spots had won.

Confetti was tossed, victory cries vocalized and celebratory Gatorade was showered upon Alya, as she was the winning trainer. Amid the happy chaos, stood a girl numb to her feat. Sure, she was a terrific fighter, but the wins didn't faze her anymore. Nevertheless, she flashed fake smiles, shared faux excitement in every interview and gave off her usual victory dance she performed with Alya. That part was the only genuine one; grooving along with her best friend never got old.

One hour had passed. Questions were publicly answered, replenishing water was drunk and Ladybug, sans the concealing getup, was hiding in the back alley of the arena. Alya wanted to celebrate and hoof it to the nearest bar. Marinette wanted to go home and sleep, however she had a hard time removing herself from the wall she was leaning against. Her eyes were closed and relaxed, and very, very unaware.

"Great show you put on out there, Ladybug," a male voice called out. Clearly, she had forgotten that she had washed off her face paint, planning on beelining to her apartment. All while not bothering to change her signature pigtails.

Marinette turned toward the person, wide eyes in tow. She was surprised that she was so easily recognized. Once the boy realized she was without mask, his emeralds grew too. "U-Uh, I'm sorry!"

She sighed. "What's it matter anyway? Eventually my secret identity was going to be discovered by someone. Guess that you're that person."

The blonde could sense that something was wrong with the girl, so he sat down next to her, wanting to help. "I'm Adrien. What's your name? W-Well, besides Ladybug, I mean."

"Marinette."

"O-Oh. Okay."

Adrien drew images on the knees of his jeans, nervous to be in her presence. "Wait, you're the cute blondie I winked at, right?" Marinette asked, coming to a realization. He stiffened. "Yeah, I uh, that's me alright."

"Figures," she mumbled. "I usually have crappy luck."

"I don't know if I'd say that. The amount of matches that you win-"

"Is enough for me to loose all feeling."

"W-What?"

Marinette sighed, turning to look at the sitting boy next to her. "Sure, I win all the time, but I've lost the excitement. It's too expected of me. Honestly, I'd give up all my trophies and banner win order to feel something, anything again."

Adrien appeared to be floored by the girl's confession. Marinette shifted her gaze deep into the alley, studying the bricks. She felt a sharp pinch on her upper arm. "Ow! What the hell, Dude?!" she yelped.

"You said you wanted to feel something! I was just helping!"

Sucking in a breath, she held it captive in her lungs. Her eyes shifted from anger to forgiveness. This boy before her was as pure as they come, and he just couldn't help it, but maybe he could help her. Reaching over, she grabbed his hand to examine. She ran her fingers over the expanse of his tanned skin. The unmasked boxer brought his hand to her lips, placing a sweet kiss there. With her pink mouth still attached, Marinette peeked upward at Adrien, spotting a reddening blush against his cheeks.

She eventually let go, bringing her hands to her own lap. "Thank you, Adrien. You were right. I did feel something, a painful pinch that I plan on returning to you someday," she winked at him.

His ruddy face turned pinker at the insinuation of seeing him again in the future. "Can we... do you like coffee?"

"I do, particularly not at midnight, though," she giggled. "Right," Adrien looked defeated. "But, I'm always down for tea!" Marinette yelled a little louder than necessary.

"What about the rest of the alphabet?"