#lukaneventte: No Context November
Text
It was the day after the class seats had been swapped around, Marinette having since resigned herself to being moved to the back. She wasn't happy about being alone, but everyone else was with their own seats and the last thing she wanted to do was stir up a fuss again just to have it turned against her.
Making a case would've been less of an issue had she told everyone that she was actually no longer into Adrien and had an entire boyfriend to show for it, but Alya was too unpredictable in how she might react to that and the others hadn't seen her and Luka together long enough to understand. She loathed the fact that an infatuation of less than a year was what people were basing her character on - nowadays, she looked back on it like an artist who grimaced at their week-old work - but her private life was no one's business but her own. If she had to reveal it to convince people that she wasn't an evil person going after a "perfectly innocent" girl over a crush, then—
Well, normally she would say that it was her fault, but Luka had been firm about her not blaming herself for everything under the sun and she was really trying to stick to that.
Maybe being in the back won't be so bad, she thought, attempting to calm her mind. I feel, um... taller? That's something.
It wasn't helping.
"Alright, class," Miss Bustier called out, clapping her hands to earn everyone's attention, "before we start today, we have a new student who just transferred to our school and I'd like you all to give them a warm welcome."
A new student? Marinette shut her eyes and held back a groan, thinking that the current "new student" was already more than enough. If it was another Lila or Chloe, she might have to seriously consider bribing Master Fu for the fox miraculous so she could Mirage herself into class to avoid them altogether.
Also, as she was quickly realizing, the only available seat was next to her. This was a disaster, an absolute disas—
"Luka?" Juleka blurted out, uncharacteristically loud in her shock.
At the name of her boyfriend, Marinette's head jerked towards the classroom door, seeing him standing next to Miss Bustier like he belonged there. She blinked, glancing out at the hall as if the real new student would come in, but nothing happened. Even when she looked back at Luka, he met her gaze as if to wordlessly tell her that yes, he was there.
Just to make absolutely sure, she dropped her arms to her lap and pinched her forearm until it hurt.
After giving a general introduction that Marinette processed none of, Miss Bustier turned to Luka to ask, "Would you be alright sitting in the back next to Marinette?"
He nodded, not waiting to start heading up the stairs. Eyes, either curious or puzzled, followed him as he went, but he had his own eyes on his decided-upon seat.
Marinette could only continue gaping at him, even as he sat down and made himself comfortable. He eyed her, smiling softly, then reached out and slowly closed her mouth. The cheek caress that followed was so subtle and quick that no one could've caught it even if they were looking, but it finally brought her back to life.
Leaning towards him, she whispered in a panic, "Luka! What are you doing here?! How are you here?!"
He took a single glance at Miss Bustier, who was turned towards the chalkboard, then leaned in and whispered back, "I didn't want you to have to do this alone."
"But—!" Her face scrunched, mind racing in an attempt to understand. She'd told Luka about what happened with Lila, but that was only yesterday. For him to have found a way to transfer between then and now was—was— "That's crazy!"
He shrugged, unphased.
She gripped the table, as if it would give her the mental support needed to juggle the thoughts in her head. "You didn't have to go through all this for me! It's too much!"
That finally got a reaction out of him, but not in the way she suspected. He frowned disapprovingly, leaning in further and raising a hand between them to further muffle his words to others' ears. She felt his breath against her ear as he explained, "You're my girlfriend, Marinette; my girlfriend and my best friend. It's not 'too much' if it's what I wanted to do."
He left it at that, straightening up again and putting his focus towards the front of the class. She could only pout at him, hoping no one saw the blush on her cheeks.
It felt wrong, somehow. It was Ladybug who was supposed to swoop in to save people, not the other way around. She was the one who had to make choices on the fly to help others.
She could already hear Luka's voice in her head, shooting that idea down: "Ladybug can't be the savior all the time. Someone has to look out for Marinette too."
It was almost frustrating, losing a battle of words in her own head, but she'd be lying if she said that it didn't make her feel relieved to have someone who would back her up no matter what. Whether she chose to go after Lila or not, he'd be behind her the entire way.
She couldn't help herself. Checking to confirm that there still weren't eyes on them, she leaned up towards Luka and imitated his gesture, raising her hand between their faces. He'd seen the gesture out of the corner of his eye and tipped his head to listen better, but she kissed his cheek instead.
Pulling back quickly to look normal just in case the pecking sound had been caught, she dared only a single peek at Luka to catch his reaction. He was trying and failing not to grin, probably looking as if he was just very interested in the lesson to any outside eyes. It occurred to her then that, had they been in the front or middle rows, it would've been impossible to not be seen by anyone behind them.
Letting an imaginary Marinette in her mind cheer and jump around for her due to being unable to do anything even close to that in class, her thoughts screamed, Being in the back is the best!
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#type: salt#episode: Chameleon
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
Luka did his best to make certain of things. He never wanted to assume, nor get in anyone else's way. It wasn't because he was meek or passive, rather he was simply happy where he was and would rather gauge people's comfort first, seeing whether they wished to approach him first.
But he could also take a hint, and he'd smash every guitar he owned if he was wrong.
It started when Juleka had told them that Marinette had put more focus into her personal projects and gave away certain presents she'd been keeping in a chest. He hadn't been sure what caused the change, but guessed that it must've been some sort of epiphany or major life choice.
That alone wouldn't have affected Luka beyond being happier at seeing her happier, but then she began to approach him more. She sat next to him when he played, peered up at him with her eyes looking extra blue, and asked if she could come along to help whenever he went to get everyone drinks so they could keep going with their conversation. All the while, she would look absolutely happy.
He arrived at the Dupain-Cheng residence once to see her for a little creativity session, but the second Marinette's mother had called up that he'd arrived, there were rapid footsteps like she was moving around. He was encouraged to go up anyway, but he waited for all the noise to stop before opening the trapdoor.
He found Marinette sitting on her chaise lounge, one leg crossed over the other. She attempted to flip her hair - freed from her usual style - and only flinched slightly when it smacked her in the face. It was actually impressive how it was both clumsy and attractive of her.
Point being, she was blatantly gauging his interest in her, and Luka was indeed very interested.
He debated on what to do for a while. Asking her out was obvious, but he didn't have any experience. He'd been flirted with in school and confessed to once or twice, but he was never the one doing the pursuing, nor had he had a serious crush before Marinette.
He couldn't just do nothing though. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, a pleasant tingling sensation running through him at the thought of what that glowing face of hers might look like having fun on a date with him.
——
Luka arrived at the bakery, going through the side door as Marinette's friends were allowed to do in order to bypass the bakery itself. In his hand was a small, clear bag full of a few chocolate chip cookies he'd made.
While he was more used to cooking than baking, he knew that the actual quality wasn't important. Marinette loved using gifts and shows of effort as her way of expressing affection, which was what Luka set out to provide. He even caught himself smiling, thinking about them making horrible yet effort-filled presents for each other. They'd laugh about how silly they look, but ultimately keep each one.
He liked to think he wasn't an impatient person, but imagining the potential made him want to ask her out even more.
After ascending the stairs, Luka knocked on the trapdoor and called out, "Marinette?"
"Oh!" came a muffled voice from the other side. "Luka, you're here!"
There were some more shuffling noises, then a click as the trap door started to open. Marinette peered down at him with a smile, then gaped once he presented his gift.
"For me?"
He nodded, their fingers brushing as the tiny bag went from his hand to hers. She moved out of the way to let him in, Luka going into her room and taking a brief look around to see what she'd been up to. He could always feel her creativity spread through the room and it was one of his favorite things.
"Aw, they're so cute!" Marinette cooed, plopping down on her chaise lounge and raising the bag up to the light to admire it. "You made these?"
He nodded, though of course it was obvious that they weren't from a bakery. They were slightly misshapen and some had far more chocolate chips than others.
"Ohh, is this a flower from the Liberty?" she squealed, affectionately stroking the petals. "I almost don't want to eat any."
"Well—"
"I said almost," she huffed, already loosening the ribbon in protest. She took one cookie out, then retightened the ribbon to preserve the appearance.
Watching her, Luka warned, "They're probably not as sweet as the ones at the bakery."
"Please." She bit in and started chewing, only swallowing just enough to speak again. "I've had so many perfect sweets from my parents that all taste exactly the same. Give me imperfect ones any day."
He hummed, going over to sit down next to her. Though he wished to tell her that he’d make her as many as she wanted, he had to get past “step one” first. “Marinette?”
She'd just taken another bite, so she could only let out a grumble that she was listening.
Luka tapped his thigh in thought, mulling things over, then decided to just come out and ask, "...Are you doing anything on Saturday?"
It was her "free day" starting from when she'd tried to rearrange her life, but he figured he'd ask anyway. She dedicated it to "her time" usually, but had opened it up for him and only him on occasion. It was another - if not the - blatant hint.
Despite that, she pouted, squinting like she was trying to remember something. "Mmm, let me check..."
That was the second reason Luka had decided to ask her in her room: she kept her plans there. Marinette stood up, putting the rest of her cookie in her mouth, then wandered over to the center of her room so she could pull down her calendar and look at it. Her finger traveled across it to find the specific date, followed by a considerate tap.
She went to speak, but was delayed by the cookie still in her mouth. After swallowing, she admitted, "Oh, not yet, but I was planning to ask you out on a date then."
The atmosphere stilled, and so did Luka. He could see the moment Marinette realized what she'd said, her hand freezing in place on the calendar. He tried to say anything to comfort her, but what came out was more like a strangled laugh.
She beat me to playing the first note.
"W-wait! No!" Marinette turned, throwing her arms up and rambling, "I didn't mean—I mean, I did mean, but I didn't mean to do it now! My timing was off, you deserve better than that, and—"
"Yes," he interrupted the moment he could calm himself.
She paused, staring at him as if repeating the past few seconds in her head, then asked, "Yes that my timing was off, or yes that you deserve better than that... or both?"
"Yes, I'd love to go out on a date with you," he clarified, beaming up at her. Standing, he approached to be closer to her. "I was about to ask you out anyway."
"You—you—!" She gasped, jumping up excitedly and grabbing hold of his jacket. "Then yes! I want to go out with you too! I wanted to go out with you forever!" She tugged up and down on the fabric, still buzzing with energy, but halted at the realization, "Wait, but if I asked you and you asked me, does that mean we go out on two dates then?"
She was too cute. He wasn't sure if he could wait for Saturday, which suddenly seemed so far away.
"What about now?"
She tilted her head at him, curious. "Now?"
"Are you busy?"
She stepped away in contemplation, tapping her chin. "Mm... no? I think I finished everything I wanted to do." However, she pointed at him with a stern expression, apparently taking this situation extra seriously. "But, we'll have to go in sync down the stairs, or my parents will hear that we're both going somewhere. They won't be able to stop taking pictures of us!"
Luka weighed that in his mind, noting, "I could use a new wallpaper for my phone."
"L-Luka! You wouldn't!" Marinette shouted, blushing red at the mere mental image.
Their date today also suddenly seemed so far away.
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
Marinette scrolled through her contacts, struggling to keep herself covered by her blanket with one hand whilst using her phone with the other. She kept the hand just barely outside of the blanket, enough for her to see but without sticking it too far out of the cocoon of warmth she'd crafted for herself.
It was freezing, and moving was not an option, As she was sitting on her chaise lounge with her bed's blanket around her, she couldn't go to her computer nor do any of her usual hobbies that involved—well, anything. She could've downloaded a game on her phone to play, but she didn't need to end up becoming addicted. The last thing she wanted was to be featured in an article titled Paris Goes Up in Flames While Ladybug Works On Her Fictional Hamster Restaurant.
She'd just have to call someone. Her contacts were vast with all the people she'd gotten to know or needed to exchange numbers with, but the actual options were limited. There were certain expectations of what kind of call she'd get depending on the person, so instead of the name of the person, she pictured what she expected to get if she called them.
Drama, anxiety, gossip, more anxiety, crafts—ah—!
She stopped on one contact in particular, tipping her head back and letting out a triumphant exhale. It was after sunset, so she knew he wouldn't be working. She could only hope that he didn't mind being called.
Putting the phone to her ear, she waited. The rocking ringtone had her bouncing a bit, but she was careful not to move so much that it undid her cocoon.
Eventually, a click followed and Luka's familiar voice greeted, "Hey, Marinette."
She hummed contentedly, already feeling soothed. "Hi. Sorry if I interrupted anything."
"No. I left my phone on my bed when I went to get a drink," he explained, having already guessed (correctly) that it was the amount of time it took for him to pick up that concerned her. "How are you?"
"Nnngh," she whined at the mention. "Cold. My parents went away for the weekend and I don't want to warm up the whole house just for me." Pouting, she added with spite, "I think the space heater's in their bedroom, but they locked the door before they left."
"Ah." She could practically hear the sympathetic frown. "...You could break in?"
She snorted, knowing exactly what he was referencing, "I'm only an expert in sneaking into TV studios, not breaking into people's bedrooms. Besides, it's too cold to move anyway. Maybe the lock is frozen."
"Can I help?" He sounded genuine in the request despite not being there himself. The question made sense since she'd called: either she needed something from him or just wanted a distraction.
Marinette stalled on answering. Thinking it was one thing, but she feared it might sound embarrassing coming out of her mouth. A friend could say it to another friend without them feeling like it was weird, right?
"Uh, well... you already are?" She curled in further on herself, like a turtle trying to draw into its shell. "I thought it'd help with the cold if I called someone, and you... were the warmest person I could think of...?"
There was a sound on the other line - it could've been a word, could've been a choke, could've meant nothing at all - but then there was only silence. Marinette pulled the phone away to check the call, confirming that it was still going.
Finally, Luka spoke again, "I'll come over."
"W-what?" She put the phone back to her ear. "Right now?"
She could faintly hear footsteps as he replied, "I can help you stay warm."
"Wait—" She cut herself off when she heard a noise as if Luka had hit or stumbled over something, but he didn't make any acknowledgment or yelp over it. "Luka, you can't! It's too cold outside!"
"Maybe," he acknowledged, "but then I'll be at the warmest place I could be."
And then the call cut off, presumably as Luka hung up to leave. Marinette gaped at her phone's screen, then outright dropped her phone into her cocoon and fully submerged herself into it.
He called me warm!
Things had been like that ever since he had confessed to her, or maybe ever since they'd started work on the music video. She wasn't quite sure, but they'd definitely spoken and done more with each other as of late.
Either way, he was coming and she finally had something motivating enough to make her get up, taking the blanket with her.
——
Marinette was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, feeling strange about being close to the bakery without the warmth coming with it, when there was finally a knock at the side door. Her head jerked up, seeing Luka past the glass, and hurried to open the door for him.
A gust of cold wind blew in, sapping the warmth from her and causing her teeth to chatter, but Luka was quick to come in so they could close it as soon as possible.
"It's even colder out there than I thought..." Marinette trailed off, taking Luka in. "...Where's your coat?"
"I c-couldn't find it," he replied, movements notably slower than usual as he pulled at the strap of his duffel bag to bring it in front of him, "b-but I grabbed everything that might help with the cold—"
She reached up, his voice cutting out as she touched his cheek. It was like ice against her fingertips, earning a gasp out of her. "You're freezing!"
He might've said something in defense of himself, but she wasn't listening. She knocked the duffel bag strap from his shoulder, grasped the far edges of her blanket, and immediately went in for a hug.
The cold coming off of Luka bit her in return, but she didn't let go. He'd gone through all the effort to come by and she'd been raised better than to leave a guest to be cold.
Besides, two friends could share a little body heat, and he would've refused if she'd offered the entire blanket since it would've left her cold. In that respect, it was a genius idea that only Ladybug could come up with on the fly.
He was stiff, his heart racing from what she'd assumed was him having run there, but then he hugged her back. She'd been anticipating all of the cold, yet it wasn't all bad. He was still warm in the traditional Luka way.
——
After ensuring that he had recovered enough from the cold and had put his duffel bag back on, Marinette insisted that he share the blanket with her. There was a bit of back and forth over it considering the stairs, but ultimately they squished together and took the top corner on their side to pull towards their chest to keep at least their backs covered. There was no way the blanket would wrap fully around both of them, but they managed.
It probably wasn't doing a very good job of blanketing them, but it was equal and the only thing they could agree on. Surprisingly easily, they also went up the stairs in sync, as if stepping to a beat that only they could hear.
"Marinette," Luka began as they reached the top, looking around curiously, "did your power go out?"
"Hm? No."
While the lights were off and it was after sunset, it was still early enough that the light from the windows still made things visible enough. Besides, she had a plan in mind.
Pushing open the door to reveal the living room and kitchen, Marinette grinned in satisfaction at the feeling it brought her. She'd set up battery-powered candles strategically around the area, explaining as much to him, "Candles feel so much warmer than normal lights. I thought that if we couldn't deal with the real cold, we could deal with the cold in our minds. Atmosphere helps, you know?"
Luka stared - really stared - at their surroundings, taking in the full scope of her efforts. His mouth opened when he met her eyes like he had something to ask her, but stopped short and shook his head instead.
"Luka?"
"It looks great," he praised. "I feel bad that the food I brought doesn't match the tune though."
"Hm?" She glanced at his bag, reminded of what he'd said earlier. "Oh yeah! What'd you bring?"
Determined not to release the blanket, he fumbled with the bag one-handed until she used her free hand to hold it in place so he could pull the zipper back. Inside was something large and fluffy, as well as two cups of instant noodles, each in different flavors.
Regretfully, he admitted, "We were out of hot chocolate."
"No no, this'll work!" She hovered a hand over the two, but hesitated. "Uh, can I pick either?"
"I picked two in case you didn't like one of them."
"Oh." That reassured her that Luka was happy with either, so she snatched the one she preferred. "We should have an electric kettle somewhere to heat the water."
Which, of course, led to another problem: they'd committed to the blanket by then and thus didn't have both of their hands free to actually work anything. Marinette didn't doubt that she could do it all one-handed in a pinch, but it'd be a pain.
Then, remembering what they'd done with the duffel bag just a moment ago, she glanced at her hand and Luka's, noting amusedly, "We have two hands between the both of us?"
He snorted, raising his free hand to show his approval at the ridiculousness of it all.
——
In the end, they worked together after all. Luka would open the cupboard, Marinette would get the kettle, he would turn on the sink while she held it, and so on. They struggled most getting the protective plastic off of the ramen cups, but it was fun and they managed with their level of teamwork.
She chuckled internally at the situation, imagining telling her partner as Ladybug that he was being replaced. Knowing him, that might be the one time he took something seriously, but it was funny to think about.
They did a little bit of clean-up while waiting for the ramen to be done, then carried both cups - utensils included - up to her room. Marinette had it set up in the same way as the kitchen, so there were more candles placed around to provide the perfect amount of warm lighting.
"Hold on," Luka requested. To Marinette's shock, he let his side of the blanket drop along with his duffel bag, putting his cup of ramen aside so he could slowly coax the large fluffy fabric out with both hands.
It was another blanket. She almost asked him why he hadn't used it before - not that she'd taken any issue with the results - but then the sound of something hitting the floor with a 'clack' got her attention. Searching for the source, she saw a large, unwieldy cable coming out from a spot in the fabric.
Ah. It was an electric blanket.
He laid it down on the floor and went to plug it in while she abandoned their original blanket on her chaise lounge. They both seemed to wordlessly agree that it was a better idea to sit on a harder and flatter surface to ensure that they didn't cause any spills with their cups.
When Luka returned from setting things up, they both sat on the blanket and fashioned the rest to go across as much of their lower body as possible. While it left their upper bodies exposed, they needed more room around their front to eat anyway and the ramen would likely do well enough in warming them.
"How is it?" Marinette asked while gathering up a good bit of her own with her utensil.
He hadn't actually eaten any yet, so she waited for him to take a bite. He chewed the ramen more slowly than expected, but she supposed he wanted to give her a proper answer.
"It's good." He glanced at hers as well. "What about yours?"
She took the bite, having been waiting for him to ask. It tasted good and everything, just as his did, but her takeaway was a pleased, "Warm."
They had a bit of a laugh before focusing on the food again. Marinette figured that she could've pulled out her phone and found something for them to watch while they ate, but it was actually nice just sitting with him and eating together.
While they ate, she found her gaze wandering to his ramen rather than hers, even though the only difference visually was the broth's color. It was strange how she'd been the one who got the first pick of the flavors, yet suddenly his was looking more appealing to her.
She kind of wanted to try it, but wouldn't it be rude to ask? It was only right that she make an offer first so things were fair.
"Luka," she called, preparing another bite of ramen. When he looked over to see what she wanted, she held it out to him. "Want some?"
His gaze went to the bite, then her, then back to the bite again. At first, she thought he might refuse her, but then he leaned in, opening his mouth and claiming what she'd offered him. The content hum that he let out afterward made her skeptical of his earlier implication that he liked both flavors equally.
Licking his lips in satisfaction, he asked in return, "Do you want some too?"
"Mhm~" She leaned in advance, trying to look prepared, not eager.
She didn't often have ramen, but she knew she'd tried the one that he'd had before. They must've changed the recipe too as, when she let him feed it to her, it tasted better than she remembered it being.
As she was chewing to savor it, Luka averted his gaze from her, though not looking at anything in particular. There was clearly something on his mind and she wondered if it had anything to do with what he stopped himself from saying earlier.
"...Marinette," he began slowly, "are you... comfortable with me?"
She tilted her head, having had no idea that had ever been a question for him. "Yeah, of course I am? Aren't you comfortable with me?"
He nodded. "I've always been comfortable with you, but I wouldn't blame you if you felt awkward after what I said at the TV studio."
"At the TV..." She blushed, the memory springing to mind immediately. "That? No, no way, why would I?"
He didn't answer, but she could tell that he didn't have a problem with what they were doing. He was just trying to understand, but understand what? She didn't get it. He'd confessed to her, sure, but they'd grown closer if anything else, so there was nothing to be confused by. She not only was doing everything he was doing on their little hang out in her home, but first, so if anything it was her who you'd think had the...
Marinette froze, even though she hadn't felt cold since Luka had gotten there. To say that a final puzzle piece was put in its rightful place wouldn't be accurate, as it was more like she'd been only playing with one when the entire rest of the puzzle dropped down to complete everything.
She hugged him for warmth for far longer than she should have, she pressed up against him and eagerly shared a blanket, she made sure that they continued sharing the blanket, she fed him and even wanted a bite of his food, and then there was the little detail of setting up candlelight.
Luka had been so befuddled by all of this because he'd confessed and she only got closer to him in response without explicitly telling him why that was. He could make assumptions, certainly, but he never liked to.
She stared down into the broth of her ramen, swirling it around while she gathered her thoughts. At the same time though, if she stayed quiet long enough, then Luka would no doubt change the subject to give her a way out.
She didn't want that.
"Do—" She pressed her lips into a thin line, mulling over the question once more. "...Do you want another taste?"
It sounded like a switch in topic and Luka treated it as one, nodding as if the discussion had never happened. He leaned towards her to prepare for another bite, but she silently set aside her cup of ramen. She took his as well, letting the two cups sit next to each other to leave their hands free.
Without another word, she took his confused face in her hands and kissed him. The salty taste of the ramen still lingered on his lips and hers, but she didn't care. She held him there, only able to hope that the gesture got her whole point across.
Especially because, as soon as she pulled away from his blushing face, she made a break for it. Leaving the electric blanket's warmth behind, she fled to the chaise lounge to her abandoned blanket and dove underneath, surrounding herself with it until it was like she'd made a protective dome around herself.
"I'm sorry!" she let out, even though it would sound slightly muffled to his ears.
There was a shuffling noise, followed by rapid footsteps that indicated Luka's approach. He sounded cautious, wondering aloud, "You're sorry... for kissing me?"
"No." Her answer was immediate. "Just... I-I wasn't used to things like this being like this."
Despite the nonsensical phrasing, he - being the fascinatingly understanding boy he was - somehow made sense of it. "...Being in love?"
"Mm," she hummed affirmatively. The chaise lounge's cushion underneath her shifted from the weight distribution and she knew that Luka must've sat down near her, so it was okay to be quieter as she elaborated, "It's never been comfortable before."
It sounded bizarre even though it'd come from her own mouth, but it was true. She'd done all manner of things for what she'd thought was love, most of them ending in either failure, outright humiliating herself, or both.
Yet, when Luka came along, the word "failure" didn't have a meaning in her relationship with him and she wasn't so anxious as to make a fool out of herself. They had already bonded as friends and he was happy with that - they both were - so where was the risk?
There wasn't any; just two teens who loved each other as both friends and lovers.
"You don't have to apologize," Luka assured. A lightness returning to his voice, he added, "But... I want to give you a taste too."
Marinette's face burned, and not entirely out of embarrassment. She'd come up with that line on the fly and he was actually rolling with it.
Slowly, she reached out for the edge of the blanket closest to Luka, lifting it up just enough to let some light pour in. He slid his hand right in front of the newly-made opening and, feeling prepared, she reached out and covered his hand with hers.
Pushing herself up with her other hand, she sat up and brushed the blanket back so it fell over her shoulders. Luka smiled fondly at her, grabbing at the electric blanket he'd brought with him on his lap so he could move and face her better. She helped him adjust until they were side-by-side against the chaise lounge's backrest, both laying on and being surrounded by the blanket's warmth.
Happy to fulfill his request, she let him caress her cheek and return her earlier kiss, all thoughts of ever having been cold before he arrived long forgotten.
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
"You want me to patrol?" Luka asked, staring down at the snake miraculous being held out to him.
Ladybug nodded. "Yeah! Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be great at it!"
That wasn't what he'd been thinking about, actually. Taking the miraculous from her hand and putting it on - something she looked oddly pleased about - he pressed, "I don't mind, but why do you want me to do it?"
The miraculous shifted into its disguised state, a light coming off to bring Sass back into existence. The kwami reclined back like he was lounging in an invisible chair, then waved a paw and replied, "Public opinion."
Luka stared, still feeling lost.
Ladybug tilted her head in Sass's direction, continuing, "It's hard for snake heroes to gain any favor from the public. Real snakes are scary for people and no one can understand your power more than you can."
He vaguely understood that. To everyone else, the snake's powers weren't particularly flashy and the only one who got to experience the reset timelines was him. He'd never particularly considered how people thought about it as he didn't really care, but he acknowledged that the two were making sense.
"I care about all my heroes," Ladybug added, putting her hands on her hips, "and I want the public to care about them too. I'm sure all you need to do is go out there, put on a little snake charm, maybe tell a few stories about your timelines, and everyone will get that Viperion does great work just like everyone else, if not greater."
He couldn't be sure if she'd added on the end because she meant it, or because she could only gauge his success rather than his time and effort. The thought that she considered him a hard enough worker that he could outpace others made him smile.
"I'll do it. Thank you, Ladybug."
She beamed. "No, thank you." She took his wrist with the bangle in both hands and lifted it to her chest level, as if reciting a prayer to it. "I have my own things to do, but I know you'll do a good job with or without me!"
He nodded obediently. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"No! Or—" She paused, pursing her lips. It was the face of someone who felt like they were forgetting something. "Mm, not know, but..."
She pulled out her yoyo, popping it open and slipping her hand inside. Her tongue stuck out to the side as she searched for whatever she was looking for, at one point putting her whole forearm in. When the movement stopped, she lit up with a delighted, "Aha!" and lifted out a folded sheet of paper. She unfolded it to give it a quick check, then happily handed it over to him.
It was a map of Paris, lines snaking across with numbered indicators and circled locations. He would've assumed it was Ladybug's that she was letting him borrow if not for the "Property of Viperion" written in the corner, both 'i's dotted with hearts.
It was cute.
Ladybug sidled up next to him, pointing to the various parts of the map to explain, "This is the quickest way to get around the city while still making sure you're being thorough. The circled spots are where you can meet with a lot of people at once; great for public image. Even Chat doesn't know these."
"Really?" Despite the teasing tone in her voice, he knew she wasn't lying.
"He doesn't need it. He's a cat and people love cats." She rolled her eyes in faux exasperation, then nudged him with a playful smile. "We snakes and ladybugs have to stick together, right?"
He smiled back. He had no idea where this whole conversation of hers had come from, but he nodded and agreed, "Right."
And with that, she was ready to go, stepping away and waving him goodbye before heading off. Luka waved back, but felt eyes on him and turned his head to see Sass staring at him with a knowing expression.
"...What?"
He learned that day that Sass hissed when chuckling.
——
Patrolling was entirely different from fighting akuma, Viperion learned. There wasn't any real tension so long as he didn't find anything, and it felt like it served a nice role in getting him further acclimated to his hero self. He could jump and travel around easily enough when he was called upon, but it didn't escape him how his jumps grew more confident and his landings more solid as time went on.
Whenever he came across a circled area on the map, he would do as Ladybug had recommended and talk to the various civilians he'd find there. Unlike what he imagined would happen with Ladybug or Chat Noir, he had to check on them first rather than being called over for pictures or comments. It didn't bother him beyond the concern that he wasn't doing as much as Ladybug asked, but he couldn't verify until he went back to her.
Time passed smoothly enough, Viperion mentally checking off the map's numbers as he went. Near the end of the patrolling path happened to be around Marinette's house too, so he was in a good mood.
He was within eyesight of the place when someone suddenly called out, "Hey, Viperion~!"
He almost faltered, looking out towards the familiar voice to see Marinette on her balcony and excitedly trying to wave him down. He smiled unconsciously, feeling the natural pull she always had on him that urged him closer, but snapped out of it when he remembered that he was Viperion at the moment. He was supposed to be a stranger to her.
Taking one more look at his map, he noted the circle - oddly enough - right around the bakery. He supposed it could've been referring to the park nearby, but regardless, he was meant to be talking to civilians and Marinette was indeed a civilian.
If it wasn't what Ladybug had in mind, he'd twist the rules just this once.
Giving Marinette a look to convey his intent, he waited for her to step back before leaping towards her, allowing him enough space on the balcony to safely land. It was equally helpful that some of the various things on the surface had been moved in such a way that he'd had a clear place to drop onto.
"Hey... citizen." Wow, that sounded bizarre. "Can I help you?"
She giggled - cute - and nodded at him. Beckoning to him, she stepped back towards the entrance to her bedroom. "Yeah. Come with me for a minute."
She was so forward about it that Viperion genuinely wondered if this was just something that happened with heroes, or only with Marinette specifically. Perhaps Ladybug had even been invited inside before?
He couldn't bring himself to refuse her, so he followed her down onto her bed, then down the stairs to the main part of her room. He watched her walk across and bend down to the chest near her chaise lounge, her hands fiddling with the latch to open it. She reached inside and pulled out something teal, but he couldn't quite see what it was with her body obscuring it.
Marinette, careful not to show him what was in her arms, walked over to a full-body mirror nearby. Finally turning to him, she held up the object and asked, "What do you think?"
Viperion's jaw dropped. There in her arms was a Viperion plush and, judging from his own reflection in the mirror, she'd even gotten the smaller details right. He got the distinct feeling that she had looked at him more than he'd looked at himself just to ensure that the plush was accurate.
"Wow, it's..." He approached, reaching out but not feeling able to touch the plush, as if he wasn't worthy of it. At Marinette's encouragement, he gingerly held one of the little arms and gave it a squish to test its softness. "This is incredible work."
"Thanks." She beamed, swaying her hips and looking pleased with herself. "I try to make one of everyone, but this one's my favorite."
He looked at her questioningly, touched yet confused, but she wasn't meeting his eyes anymore. Her gaze turning back at the chest, she gently placed the plush in his arms and returned to her collection to start pulling more of her work out.
Viperion glanced at the stuffed imitation of him, unsure of how to handle it but doing his best to give it support. Marinette must've seen him at some point while setting out plushies, given the otherwise random giggle she'd let out.
After roughly a minute, she'd finished, sitting in the middle of the two groups she'd set out and spreading her arms out above them. Indeed, there was a group of plush superheroes to one side of her and even a group of plush akuma to the other. If he really eyed their details, he could tell which had been made when she was just starting out and which she'd done recently once she had experience, but it was all equally impressive to him.
Bringing the plush with him, he sat down in front of her and let it sit on his lap. He couldn't care less what he'd looked like, too busy admiring her work. His face must've shown it without him saying anything, as she puffed her chest out like she was basking in the unspoken praise.
Then, his eyes locked on something purple, black, and out of place amongst the heroes. In any other circumstance, he probably wouldn't have focused or commented on it, but it was also of him: specifically, Silencer, his akumatized self who had relentlessly chased down Bob Roth and stolen the voices of multiple people, including Ladybug herself. Bitter memories rushed back to him of waking up after the fact and fearing what might've happened while he'd been under someone else's control, the worst being if he'd hurt Marinette in some way
"That's an akuma," he said flatly. His own tone caught him off guard, but Marinette either didn't notice or didn't mind his disdain for that particular plush.
She followed his gaze to the mini Silencer in question. Rather than realizing that she'd made a mistake, she smiled, picking up the plush and setting it on her lap. Hand resting on the soft helmet on its head, she looked at him and explained, "Yeah, but... he's a hero to me."
She couldn't keep saying things like that to him without elaboration. He could only take so much without letting his civilian self show.
Thankfully, she elaborated this time, "People at my school get akumatized all the time; sometimes right in front of me. I have to run away from them as fast as I can, because even if they're not after me, I'm still another potential target for them." She turned the plush so she could look at its face, her eyes going soft as she continued, "Silencer was the first time someone got akumatized to protect me; when I felt honored to be protected. He didn't want my attention either, he wanted to get revenge because of what Bob Roth did."
Viperion hadn't known that. He'd had a brief discussion with Marinette about something he'd apparently said, but he'd been needed on stage and couldn't finish any sort of conversation with her. It warmed him greatly, knowing that she appreciated him even as an akuma.
"Sure, he was still another one of Hawk Moth's akuma, so Ladybug had to take care of him," she acknowledged, "but I think he's a little misunderstood, like you."
"Like me?"
She nodded, bringing back her point from earlier. "That's why the Viperion plush is my favorite. You're the least popular out of everyone, but I bet you do so much work during your Second Chances. Even though you should be getting more credit for it, no one notices until you're going around—" She gestured between them, indicating their current situation. "—like this."
He grew quiet, already seeing the connection. His heart sank at the thought.
"...It's relatable," she whispered with a sad smile, her fingertips trailing across the top ridge of the plush Silencer's helmet, "not being noticed for what you can do, people seeing you at your surface level..."
Shifting, Viperion held his plush self to his chest and moved within arm's reach of her. With his free hand, he reached out, cupping her cheek to tilt her face up to him.
Quietly, but firmly, he told her, "For what it's worth, I think you deserve to be noticed for all of you, not just the part that people decide to see."
It was definitely pushing the boundaries of what he should be "allowed" to do as a hero, but at its core, Viperion thought that that's what a hero was meant to do. Saving Paris was only the surface level of what people saw heroism as: the deeper, more important part was to care for the emotional well-being of the civilians.
He'd already gone through akumatization once and he'd never wish such an experience on Marinette. Keeping her happy was a top priority for him, both before and now, regardless of how she felt about him.
Her mouth curving back into the smile he'd missed in its short time away, Marinette reached up and placed her hand over his. "Thank you. Sorry if I brought the mood down."
"This is my job—" It wasn't, not in the way she'd be thinking of anyway. "—and it's not much compared to what you did. Thanks for appreciating me."
She nodded, eyes shining with her own gratefulness. There seemed to be more that she wanted to say, but she dropped his hand and shook her head to rid herself of it. Regretfully, she admitted, "I shouldn't keep you any longer."
He nearly blurted out that she could keep him forever if she wanted, but he held back. Equally as regretful as her, he returned the Viperion plush to her waiting hands.
Marinette took it, taking the plush in her free hand and scooting out of the way. The movement left a Marinette-sized space where she'd been, which is where she decided to set the plush down. Putting the Silencer plush back where he was before, she also took the Ladybug plush and let it settle next to the Viperion one.
It left the two as the only ones in the once-empty spot.
"They look good together," she commented, looking over her shoulder at him.
He stared, not sure how to feel about his crush having an opinion on his relationship with someone else, but he didn't express it. She clearly thought highly of his partnership with Ladybug in a way no one else did, which he considered a positive.
"...Yeah." He grinned at her. "I think so too."
——
"So?" Ladybug clasped her hands together, curiosity in her eyes. "How'd it go?"
"I got to talk to people," Luka replied vaguely as he handed the miraculous back to her. His visit with Marinette had made everything else fuzzy by comparison. "There was no trouble, but there was only one person who wanted to see Viperion."
"I'm sure that'll change!" she assured, her blinding confidence thoroughly astounding him. Leaning in and grasping his shoulders, she insisted, "You deserve to be appreciated, whether that's as a civilian, a hero, or an akuma."
He went to thank her, practically overflowing with all the affection he'd received at that point, but he paused when her words truly registered with him.
Ladybug, however, didn't give him a chance to respond. She stepped away, stashing the snake miraculous into her yoyo and making her escape back out into the city with her usual wave of good-bye.
Luka was certain that he'd heard properly: she'd said akuma. He supposed it could just be a coincidence that Marinette and Ladybug had both happened to reference his akumatized self, but Ladybug's expression had hinted to him that it was more than that. It had been strange to him that Marinette's balcony had been open for him, and even more so that Marinette happened to be there like she was waiting for him. If both she and Ladybug had wanted him to feel appreciated (mission accomplished on that one, obviously), then it was possible that they'd teamed up to give him a double dose of gratitude.
Or at least, that must've been the reason, because the only other option was—
Ah.
Just like that, Luka blushed a deep shade of red, the memory of Marinette placing the Ladybug and Viperion plushies together burning itself permanently into his mind.
103 notes
·
View notes
Text
Luka walked his bike towards the Liberty, ready to sit on his bed and meditate since he didn't have anything more to do that day. It wasn't a particularly stressful time, but school had just started up again and he was still getting used to it.
He was about to lift his bicycle to cross the gangplank when a voice called out, "Luka! Luka Couffaine?"
Turning to look over his shoulder, he spotted a girl around his age hurrying down the stairs to join him on the path next to the Seine. She hopped down the last two steps in her haste, Luka hitting his bike's kickstand with his heel so it could stand upright while he spoke to her about whatever he wanted.
He opened his mouth to confirm that he was indeed Luka and ask her what she wanted, but she'd already advanced on him. She gripped his arms, looking at him seriously as she asked, "Do you know who I am?"
He blinked, caught entirely off guard. He would naturally assume that someone who would step into his personal space and grab him like that must've known him, but he couldn't put a name to her face. He eyed her black hair, her blue eyes, and her white, black, and pink clothes, trying to put together anything at all. Maybe she was one of Juleka's friends?
His heart strangely skipped a beat as he took her in but, in the end, nothing came to him. Feeling somewhat guilty, he replied, "Sorry. I don't."
Rather than the disappointment he expected, she stepped back with a grin. Smacking her palms together, she turned her back to him and raised her fists in the air in triumph, exclaiming, "Yes! I did it!"
He grew even more confused, a fact that the mystery girl didn't seem to notice immediately. She spun to face him again, wholly animated in her gestures as she rambled excitedly.
"This is great! I can't believe it really worked!" She flailed her arms about like she had too much energy inside of her. "I went back, and now there's not even anything stopping us from dating! I'm ready!"
His lips parted, but nothing came out. He had absolutely no idea of what she was talking about, though his heart skipped another beat at the mention of them dating. He put a hand to his chest, keeping his poker face on whilst trying to puzzle out the feeling he was having.
Finally, the situation caught up with her. Her eyes darted up and down, taking him in, then squinted in thought. She eased back, gaze wandering like she was trying to gauge what she'd said and what she hadn't. Luka noted that she was still breathing a little hard from having run to him and figured that the exhaustion hadn't helped her thoughts come through coherently.
"Ah, I came here, then asked... and then..." She trailed off, mumbling more to herself than him. When she met his gaze again, it was with embarrassment. "I should probably explain, right?"
——
"You're from the future?" he repeated as they sat at the edge of the path, him sitting cross-legged while she dangled her legs off to the side.
"Yes! Or—" She hesitated, crossing her arms and correcting, "Maybe not the future, exactly? This might be another dimension. I went back in time but the time before now must've changed too."
He only nodded, blindly following this tale to whatever unpredictable conclusion she had.
"Long story short, I - we - were heroes? There were these miraculouses that you used to power up, but someone was using them for evil." She brought one leg up so she could hug it to her chest, letting her chin rest on her knee. It was strange to see her without the energy she'd had before. "He got a hold of a bunch of them, even yours, and found out everyone's identities except for mine and Chat Noir's. I couldn't stop thinking about how much danger you'd be in, and after you..."
She trailed off and blushed, covering her face. Luka couldn't make out every word she was saying, but there was something in there about "not planning this far."
"Anyway!" She put her hands down, forcing her next words out. "I had to do something, to stop him, to protect you, to protect everyone, so I made a wish!"
"A wish," he echoed, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
"...Ah, I guess you wouldn't know," she realized. "You need my miraculous and Chat's, and then you can make a wish for a price. It's—" She brought her hand to her mouth, biting her thumbnail from nerves. "It's kind of against the rules? I think I made the right choice though. The miraculouses are gone, but I'm sure that's what the kwami would've wanted. Now no one can use them for evil anymore." She paused, gaze contemplative, then glanced at him. "Oh, the kwami are..." She waved dismissively. "Never mind. I sound crazy enough already."
"But you still told me," he pointed out.
"Well..." She shrugged, embarrassed. "You had one of the time miraculouses, so if anyone remembered, I thought it might be you?"
That was a blatantly bad excuse, especially with how she'd approached him. Leaning towards her, he asked cautiously, "Is it about what you said? About us...?"
He purposefully didn't finish to give her an out, but she didn't take it. She straightened, letting her leg back down with her other, and sighed.
"Yeah. I—" She stiffened in an epiphany. "Wait, I—I should've started with this."
She started patting herself down, searching her person for something unknown. Her jacket didn't have pockets and the ones on her capris were fake, so she opted to check the purse at her side.
"I think my body came back with me, so..." She gasped in delight, pulling out something small enough to be hidden in her closed fist. "Here! Look familiar?"
Luka watched as she opened her hand, revealing a Jagged Stone guitar pick resting on her palm. To anyone else, it probably seemed inconclusive, because how could a guitar pick that anyone could have - and that he personally had multiple of anyway - prove anything?
Except he knew his guitar picks, to the point of having them on display in his room. That was how he could tell that the one in her hand wasn't just any Jagged Stone guitar pick, but his. He could see all the notable wear that he'd done to it ("tough love," as his mother called it) like they were fingerprints on glass.
He reached out, giving the girl a brief look for permission, then took the pick from her and started examining it further. She was happy to let him do so to prove her case and he caught her smiling out of the corner of her eye.
"You gave it to me the day we met," she explained, a lightness to her voice that wasn't there before. "I was in a pretty bad mood over another guy, but he's not important now."
Luka had no idea that the "unimportant" guy she was talking about was Paris's sunshine boy, at least in another timeline.
"I'm, um... sorry for throwing all of this on you." She giggled self-derisively, rubbing an arm. "I was so happy that everything worked out, even if you didn't remember me. I was always so busy being a hero that I didn't have any time for anyone, but now I don't have to worry anymore."
And she'd thought to see him first, even if she didn't say it explicitly. Her story being accurate meant that there had been any number of people to check on or go to, yet he was the one she'd gone for. He was the one she blurted out her whole story to, despite how fantastical it seemed. Despite them not having any relationship that he could remember, she was comfortable enough to be vulnerable around him. If he took everything she said into account, that had also meant that they were either near-dating or one of them had confessed, and considering that she'd already mentioned that she was too busy for people, that only left him to have done so.
At the thought, he felt something warm on his skin; lights that weren't from the sun exactly, but what he imagined it would feel like to have stage lights shining down on him. It felt right, somehow.
"Luka?" the girl called.
He'd been lost in his own head, still processing everything she'd said. He stared, noting the hand outstretched for a friendly handshake.
She smiled, though it was more awkward than before. "I already changed the timeline, so things probably won't happen the same way, but... it's just nice to meet you again. I'm Marinette." She glanced off to the side, the edges of her smile twitching as she added in a murmur to herself, "I should've started with that too."
She'd reigned in her earlier statements now that she'd calmed, having gone from, "we can date, I'm ready," to, "it's just nice to meet you again." She was preparing - expecting - for the possibility that they wouldn't hit the same notes twice, but if he were honest with himself, he was already interested in her in a way. She seemed nice, funny, and incredibly adorable, not to mention how she was entirely unpredictable in her actions.
He chuckled, deciding not to voice the thought for the time being. As she'd said, she was apparently free of anything holding her back anymore, so they could take it easy.
He reached out to her outstretched hand, holding the back of it with one and placing the guitar pick back in her palm with the other. Her eyes sparkled with hope as her gaze darted between him and the guitar pick, reading the wordless reassurance exactly how he'd intended.
Returning her smile with his own, he replied, "Nice to meet you again too."
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
Luka tapped a melody on his leg while he waited for class to end. Having a girlfriend who saved Paris every few days or so, he knew she could handle himself, but there wasn't any support he could provide when he was stuck somewhere and unable to look at his texts.
Not that the risk of getting into trouble would've stopped him, but Marinette would be upset if he got in trouble over her.
She'd sent him the simplest of texts just before his current class, telling him:
One of the students in our class got akumatized... again. Don't worry about sneaking out, I can handle this.
He wanted to be able to look up how it went himself, as well as send her texts of encouragement and congratulations, but now he could only wait.
As he was lamenting his temporary "failures" as a good boyfriend, Luka was brought out of his thoughts, not by the teacher talking but by a small tug on his pant leg.
"...Luka!" a tiny, extremely familiar voice called in a hushed but thrilled whisper.
Being certain that he hadn't gone that crazy (yet) to start hallucinating Marinette's voice only made him more confused. He dropped his gaze to his pant leg to check the source of the voice, and his heart promptly caught in his throat.
Standing there was a miniature version of Marinette, roughly the size of his hand. She was decked out in a gray, black, and pink bodysuit, along with double buns rather than her usual pigtails. The latter, along with the rope "tail" around her waist, made her faintly resemble a mouse. It was an absurd level of adorable even for her.
Luka subtly looked around the room, making sure that no one was looking his way. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she'd gotten there, nor how she avoided being seen, but he did know that he should hide her as soon as possible.
Faking like he'd dropped a utensil of his, he leaned down. Marinette bounced excitedly in response, arms going up the instant his hand was within reach. His skin tingled where her tiny fingers touched, her body smoothly moving along with his movements so he could scoop her up.
He'd chosen to wear a hoodie that day, but dropping her into the hood itself was risky. Someone could easily catch the movement and she'd have to stay perfectly still so as to not puzzle anyone who might sit behind him.
The choice of the pocket at the stomach of his hoodie was the obvious and safest decision, so he slipped his hand into the open slot at one of the pocket's sides to let her go. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized that he was ticklish there until Marinette squirmed about to try and get comfortable.
His poker face saved him from outing his tiny girlfriend's cruelty to the class, though he must've at least gone stiff since he swore he could hear her giggling in realization. What did he do to deserve this?
——
"Not that I'm not happy to see you," Luka began the moment he was able to get away from everyone, "but why are you here?"
He held Marinette in both hands, letting her sit on one and lean against the other. She looked absolutely comfy and proud of herself, crossing one leg over the other as she replied, "I finished the akuma pretty fast, but since the school was already evacuated, we got to go home for the day."
He looked her up and down in a show of but you're not home, you're here, and also the much more obvious, you're pocket-sized.
She chuckled. "Well, after someone told me how unfair it was that I couldn't use my miraculous to make up for all the time I lose being Ladybug, I may have convinced the guardian to let me have the mouse miraculous."
"It lets you shrink?"
She nodded. "Sort of. It divides me." She counted off with her fingers, though not to any particular number. "You can divide yourself into multiple, um, selves? Or versions of yourself? So there are actually a few other Marinette back home taking care of some of my—" She squinted, having confused herself. "—or is it our? Our projects."
Like a fool, he'd truly thought that the whole "adorable tiny mouse girlfriend" thing couldn't get better, but apparently there were multiple of her now.
"Anyway," she said dismissively, brushing off the conundrum, "we figured out how to divide up what we should do, and I was the luckiest." She giggled, clasping her hands together and beaming up at him affectionately. "Sorry if I scared you a little bit, but I really wanted to come. I've always wanted to go to school with you."
"Oh, Marinette..." His voice wavered, touched. "Me too."
He used his thumb to stroke her cheek. Even as tiny as she was, his hearing fixated entirely on the delighted hums she let out at the contact. She leaned her face into his touch, running her hand along the rest of his thumb to return the caresses.
The walk from Marinette's house to his school was excessive for her to walk normally: feasible, but it was never realistic for her to transfer even if they were in the same grade. Ladybug had her yoyo to swing from, but the mouse clearly didn't have anything similar to use, so Luka couldn't imagine a tiny thing like her going all the way from her own house to his school just to see him.
He sighed blissfully, insisting, "I'm the lucky one."
He was sure they'd never be able to agree which of them was luckier, but that wouldn't stop him from voicing his opinion.
——
Unwilling to miss out on an opportunity to have lunch - even if it was just a school lunch - with his girlfriend, he made an excuse to his friends about "his muse acting up." It wasn’t technically a lie, though he still had to bring a notebook to fake like he was working. That was the convenience of having the school he did, meaning that there were a lot of creatively-inclined students who often did the same and thus not a single odd look would be shot his way.
He'd planned it out well enough to get a small table by himself in the corner, allowing him to easily talk to Marinette so long they were careful. There was another notebook opened and propped up behind her, allowing her to hide whilst still having some mobility atop the napkin he'd placed down for her to sit on.
Plus, the one thing he could count on was for teenagers to be teenagers: getting lost in their own conversations and ignoring everything else around them.
"I want to meet your friends properly someday," Marinette admitted while she watched him sort the food he'd put hastily onto his tray. "They sounded nice."
"I'm sure they'd love you," Luka assured, talking softly so to avoid drawing attention. Most people would probably think he was mumbling lyrics to himself. "They already ask about you."
"Wait—" Panic took over her face. "A-and you answered?!" She threw her arms up, gesturing wildly at him. "But you're too biased. What if their expectations are too high?!"
He picked up the apple from his tray, turning it a few times with a critical eye. Unphased by the accusation, he asserted, "I don't exaggerate, Marinette. I just told them exactly how you are."
Once he found what he determined to be the best part of the apple, he broke off a piece to offer to his pouting girlfriend.
"Thank you," she made sure to say, before getting right back to their conversation. "I'm just... nervous. Since I have to deal with hero stuff, I don't have as many chances to prove that I'm a good girlfriend. My DPS has been really bad lately."
"DP—" Luka's face scrunched up in thought. "...That's something from the video games you play, right? Damage... Per Second?"
"I can't believe you remember something like that!" She giggled, delighted. "But yeah, that's what it means, only for this it's Dates Per Strike, as in Hawk Moth striking Paris."
He frowned disapprovingly. "Marinette..."
"I know!" She bit into the apple piece almost aggressively, then swallowed so she could continue, "You don't care about that, but I do. I don't want people to think that I'm not treating you right."
"Let them think whatever they want," he huffed, biting into the apple actually aggressively. He didn't blame Marinette for the mindset that she had to take on as Ladybug - that public opinion was incredibly important - but he hated the idea of her stressing herself out over something so unimportant in her civilian life. She had enough stress as it was and he wouldn't ask her to do anything different even for his own friends.
"Still. I want to do it for me too," she argued. "We can't plan around Hawk Moth. I didn't have much of a life before I became Ladybug, but now..."
He chewed while he considered that, the bad taste in his mouth at how troubled she was overpowering the sweetness of the apple. Even the sticky sensation on his lips was suddenly unpleasant, but as he licked his lips to remove it, an idea struck.
He surveyed the cafeteria, noting that the predictability of the average teenager remained true: they were entirely disinterested in him. It was good, because he'd have no way to explain what he was about to look like.
"Luka?" Marinette called in curiosity, setting her apple piece aside and watching his hand grip the top of the notebook to slide it closer to her. He didn't want to corner her, but he needed the coverage.
His forearm opposite of the hand on the notebook rested on the table for support, allowing him to lean down. Then, bringing his face as close to her as he could, he closed his eyes and placed a kiss against Marinette's shoulder.
"A-ah~!" She squeaked, flailing in surprise. "Luka! W-we're in public!"
It was bold of her to say that after traveling all the way to his school and sneaking into his class just to see him. Doubly bold was her acting as if she was concerned about it when she was audibly buzzing with excitement.
Undeterred, he placed another kiss at the side of her head. Two tiny hands weakly attempted to push his lips away, so he kissed them too, earning another squeak as Marinette recoiled.
Leaning back just enough to look at her without crossing his eyes, he reminded her, "We don't need to plan for that."
She was blushing up to her ears, her words coming out only as sounds while she attempted to calm herself down. He wasn't sure how memories worked out when all the Marinette joined back together, but he'd happily kiss each one of them in the same way just to make sure it stuck.
Taking a deep breath, Marinette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away as she admitted, "Y...you're right. I guess we don't need to p-plan for what matters."
Luka smirked, triumphant.
——
The rest of lunch went on uneventfully. Marinette eventually calmed down enough to ask for a bit more of Luka's lunch and he was happy to oblige. It really did feel like they were on a date, and the mental image of her bragging to the other Marinette about it made him chuckle.
When it was time to head out, Luka started cleaning up the table. Marinette stepped off the napkin so he could put it on the tray, and he stashed his inspiration notebook (that actually did end up having some new melodies in it, courtesy of his tiny muse) back in his bag. He only put the other notebook away once Marinette had safely dropped down onto his lap.
"Can I stay in your hood for the rest of the day?" she asked while he was zipping up his bag. "If you put it up, I should be able to hide where it's dark."
He nodded. He wasn't sure why she wanted it, but supposed that it was boring laying in his hoodie pocket and only being able to hear things. At least this way, she could peek out when she was certain no one was looking at him.
He ducked down, feigning that he was picking up his bag from the floor as he brought Marinette up to his shoulder. He waited for her weight to leave his hand, then went and pulled his hood up.
Standing up slowly to allow her time to get into position, he grabbed his bag and put the strap around his shoulder. He was about to pick up his tray as well to take it away, but froze as he felt a tingling sensation against the back of his neck, sending a shiver up his spine.
The giggle that followed led to one conclusion: Marinette must've kissed him there, and it was that moment where he understood her true motives.
"Sorry," he heard her say, not at all apologetically. "I promised the other Marinette that I would give you one for each of us. I'll make sure to spread them out over the rest of our school day though."
He supposed he deserved it this time.
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukamouse#((Yes there are no timers in this.))
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everyone knew of the seamstress, famous more for her work than even the glowing fairy wings on her back. She could do anything for anyone and was always willing to help. She could sew any design asked of her, make repairs to have clothes look brand new again, or alter as necessary if someone might need an outfit fitted for them.
It was an experience simply to see her work, fingers deftly working away without any sign of stopping until the job was finally done. Her boutique was lined with her products and sources of inspiration, yet carefully selected so as to not overwhelm anyone. Helping her along was her trio of mice, who eagerly rolled spools across the floor and carried needles to her whenever she requested them.
Despite all of that, what she was most known for was her ability to sew emotions into clothes, ranging all the way from joy to anger. People who wore clothes infused with happiness felt better after a rough day, those who wore clothes saturated with sadness would find it easier to cope with their own by comparison, and those who wore clothes instilled with anger—
Well, they were probably gifted those clothes by someone who wasn't exactly happy with them.
The seamstress had a wide range of intense emotions ready when needed. She would imagine munching on a sweet cinnamon roll for happiness, the time she'd found her childhood toy ripped for sadness, and the cruel treatment she'd received from a bully long ago for anger. Depending on the circumstances, the memories she used would vary, but there was one feeling that she'd never been able to put into her clothes:
Love, specifically the romantic kind. Everyone who'd known her or heard the rumors was aware that she'd never had a relationship in her life, which seemed ridiculous to them. She had alluring blue eyes, black hair that was suspected to feel like silk, and most importantly, a big heart. She'd had suitors left and right offer themselves to her, but she turned them all away.
To her, love was important. She lamented the fact that she'd never felt it before and longed to be able to sew love into something one day, but she wouldn't choose just anyone.
Then came the model.
It'd been a stormy afternoon when they'd officially met. She'd been metaphorically trapped under an awning, unable to step outside lest her wings get wet, when she noticed a photoshoot (certainly an unsuccessful one) across the street being cleaned up. The model, his role obvious given that she'd seen him in fashion magazines, had spotted her and crossed the street to reach her. She suspected that she was easy to see with all of her brightness.
He offered her his umbrella without a word and, in the next instant, she heard thunder go off. The atmosphere made it seem weirdly like the perfect meeting, his blond hair glistening from the rainwater soaking it and his eyes reflecting the light of her fantastical wings. Their hands even brushed when she took the offered umbrella, her wide eyes never leaving him until he'd disappeared into his fancy car and drove off. Rain hadn't even been forecast that day and they wouldn't have met without it there.
It seemed like fate, a thought she only became more sure of when another chance encounter came.
She'd been walking to a store for new sewing supplies when alarmed cries alerted her that something was wrong. Following everyone's gaze led her to the sight of the model plummeting from the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, a pair of angel wings at his back that weren't doing any work in saving him. She abandoned all other thoughts and flapped her own wings, flying up to meet him and secure him in her arms.
The actual catching process had been rough - he was still bigger and heavier than she was - but all in all a success. She landed him safely on the ground and inspected the damage to what she'd now recognized as a magically-charged pair of fake angel wings, clicking her tongue in disapproval at the poor craftsmanship. Naturally, she fixed them up so he could control them properly and not have them start failing again at the slightest gust of wind.
She caught his emerald eyes sparkling when he thanked her for it, the both of them noting that their meeting had been a coincidence once again and he could've died had she not been there.
This had to be it, she'd thought. She was in love, it was destiny sending her exactly what she'd desired all along, and he would receive her first piece of clothing imbued with love.
A scarf was ultimately what she'd decided on, representing the warmth of their hands in contrast to the chill of the rain. Daydreams of the perfect moment to hand over the completed product flooded her mind, potential confessions playing back-to-back as she sewed away and debated on which would be the best to do. She imagined his god-sculpted face close to hers, either reciprocating her feelings or confessing himself, the mere image making her hands work even quicker for it.
However, an obstacle came when she stopped short of completing it, something that had never happened before. She pinched at the fabric, stretching and examining it every which way to determine the issue, but she couldn't place it. Perhaps the colors were off, or the width was wrong, or a combination of things that made it difficult to pinpoint just one.
She resolved to start again the next day when her mind was fresh, but the same happened again. It became a cycle for her of designing, sewing, and never finishing because she wasn't happy with it.
Her mice did their best to support her, though within reason. If she tried an all-nighter, they would make a tower out of themselves to flick the light switch off, wordlessly telling her to head off to bed when she worked too hard.
Sometimes, she wondered if it was her skills that were lacking. For all her fame and abilities as the fairy seamstress, she couldn't manage a simple scarf for someone she insisted that she was in love with. The model was even more famous than her - even more talented - and anything less than perfection would inevitably bring shame to his very name. She wasn't alone in her adoration of one so beloved by everyone and praised as a light rivaling the sun itself, which meant that she was competing with others for the final place at his side.
Admittedly, it added a lot of pressure, but any time she'd considered giving up, something would happen. She'd see the model's face on something as she passed by, they'd happen to be in the same place and make eye contact, or she'd catch him on television getting interviewed about his incredible life.
Other times, he would come to her, bursting through the boutique's doors like an angel opening heaven's gates. He'd leave her with any manner of things, mostly roses, but he always made sure to leave her with flirtatious parting words and promises to come back soon. They were only minutes of her day at a time, but nonetheless encouragement to continue doing exactly what she was doing.
She'd been doing just that, toiling away at her literal labor of love, on an otherwise normal day when she got a new customer. Looking up from her work, it was apparent that he was not like the model in any way: he wore a guitar case on his back, his hair was pure black with blue at the tips, and his clothes were casual rather than designer. Those aspects with the addition of his black nails and earrings made him the definition of "self-expression."
He left quite the first impression based on appearance alone, but more surprising was what he'd come in for: a rip in his jacket that he asked her to fix. When she pointedly looked him over, specifically at his distressed shirt and pants, he could only excuse that it was different when it wasn't intentional.
The idea was so absurd that she'd laughed, and before long he was laughing along with her. She still agreed to the job, never one to question her customers to the point of chasing them off, and they'd talked while she repaired the rip. It wasn't even about anything special - mostly their jobs and various hobbies - but the mere suggestion that she'd like to hear him play was all the incentive he needed to come back the next day.
And the day after that, then the one following that one. She wasn't sure how it happened, but they always had a reason to see each other again, whether it was not having had time to finish their conversation that day or just because. She learned that his favorite color was blue, he'd dabbled in all types of music throughout his life, and he lived in a shared apartment with his sister. Said sister had even been one of the seamstress's old friends, yet somehow she hadn't crossed the musician's path even once. It amazed her that they'd missed each other so many times before now.
Before long, his arrival had become expected; natural. There was already a place to sit that she often let her customers have if it was a quick job or they didn't have anywhere to go, yet at times she would catch herself thinking of it as his. They never quite defined what they had, only that they liked meeting up and talking to each other.
Once, he'd brought her coffee in the morning, and she was surprised to see that it was her favorite. It baffled her, wondering how he could've known, until he spoke of a "rough morning" story that she'd entirely forgotten about by then. He was even embarrassed when he noticed that she'd already gotten a coffee herself and dared to insist that she didn't need to drink the one he'd gotten her.
She did anyway with whole-hearted appreciation, willing to risk the potential stomach cramps and caffeine overload. For someone with such a carefree air about him, he did put care into remembering little details even if they were ones given casually. In a way, she supposed that she wasn't any different, having made observations on and learned about his whole deal with "rips and tears." She knew which types of clothes he preferred to keep untorn, what skin on his body he didn't mind showing through the various slits, and even that he preferred his accessories to stay new-looking.
Her mice had taken a liking to him as well. If she ever noticed one of them missing from her workspace, she could look over and find them hanging around him, either tickling his skin with their whiskers or using him as their own personal obstacle course. She may've found herself staring a few times, watching his deft fingers adapt, straighten, or flex as needed while one of her mice swerved around and slipped between them.
If he ever caught her watching, he never mentioned it.
There were some days where they didn't talk at all, but it wasn't awkward like one would suspect. Either they were engrossed in their own work or it was simply an enjoyment of the other's company. The musician could be so still and content during such times that she occasionally wondered if he was asleep, but he was always aware of her presence. She'd discovered as much when she lost her favorite spool of thread, even to the point of shrinking down to pixie size so she could look in small spaces with her mice, and he was up in an instant to help her out.
He was just like that. Even when she was struggling with her scarf as usual, he gave her constant reassurances and offered to help however he could. There was no sign of judgment or doubt, only a steadfast belief that she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to.
It never occurred to the seamstress before how nice it was to simply have someone there. She'd fantasized about having a husband eventually, of course, but there was something different about experiencing what she had with the musician. They didn't live together, nor slept over at the other's home, but there were hints that the other had been there. He would take his wristwear off to wash his hands and mistakenly leave one behind, or one of her mice would go with him when it concluded that the inside of his guitar would make a good second home. She'd bring pastries to share from her parents' bakery and send him home with the box, or throw away a sketch in the trash and notice the crinkles of differently-toned paper next to it when he must've tossed a song he'd been writing.
It was the little things all culminating into a reminder that her days weren't just her, her mice, and whichever customers came by anymore. Putting a name to the feeling was difficult, but it was calm, safe, and warm.
Life continued as it was - the musician's daily visits, the model's infrequent ones complete with gifts and compliments, and failed scarves - until she'd wound up trapped in the rain once again. It was her own fault, having seen the cloudy skies but still jumping at the musician's offer to find some new albums with him. They'd gone down to the music store and picked up one album after another, discussing their musical tastes and making jabs about sellouts. Further still came the discussion of instruments as she prodded him for his experience on which he was most comfortable with besides his beloved guitar, all heads turning when he picked up a violin and started to play. Such soft music coming from someone dressed the way he was felt so uniquely him.
But then the fun ended the moment the seamstress turned to leave and noticed the rain outside. It was absolutely pouring, her wings already shivering in anxiety at the idea of being drenched. The musician himself hadn't even known of her issue until she explained, his eyebrows creasing with worry as he followed her gaze to the raindrops hitting the sidewalk.
Neither of them had an umbrella, but he leaned down to whisper a hesitant suggestion into her ear. She blushed, meeting his gaze to ensure that he was okay with it and receiving a resolute nod in return.
It seemed contradictory to shrink down when her goal was to avoid getting soaked, but not when his hands picked her up and settled her at the crook of his neck. He put his hood up next, leaving her in the space between the fabric and his skin whilst vastly lessening the risk of water coming down on her wings.
Sure enough, he stepped outside and only the fabric itself got wet, not the fairy tucked safely out of the rain's reach. She was stunned, not by the fact that it'd worked but that he'd gone through the trouble at all. He'd been willing to walk her home in the rain and, even if he would agree to stay at her place for the night, it took longer to get to her house than his.
When she pointed it out, his response was simple: that anyone would've done it. She shot it down immediately, insisting that he was diminishing himself needlessly and going much farther than protecting her from getting wet.
Then, like the sky after the rainclouds dispersed, everything became clear to her: the relationship she had with the musician, the feelings she had for the model, and the failed scarves that she'd accumulated over all this time.
Anyone could hand her an umbrella or give her shelter from the rain. Anyone could give her a bouquet of roses, and in fact many people did. Anyone could write a card, send her gifts, or even speak sweet words to her.
It took more than that to form a bond. It took getting to know someone and acting upon that knowledge. It took spending time with them even if the activity was simply enjoying their company. It took the ridiculousness of helping search for a spool for hours and not even batting an eye when it ended up being in the dumbest place possible.
It took love.
Looking up at the musician, she noticed the heat on his face despite the chill of the storm's wind. His footsteps were careful so as to not jostle her, but if she put a hand against his neck for balance anyway, she could feel his rapid pulse.
Putting her other hand to her chest, they were distinctly similar, like different instruments playing to the same songsheet or two strings coming together and tying into a neat bow. She suddenly had an urge to design something and it wasn't a scarf, the thing that was never going to get done when there'd been no love to put into it, having instead sucked away her confidence and time like it was a black hole.
No. She knew exactly what she wanted to make.
There wasn't a perfect moment, nor a perfect atmosphere, simply because she didn't feel she needed one. The musician had become a constant in her life and she only needed him to know that she wanted it to stay that way. The task was an effortless one, hindered only by the speed at which she could sew and the time he became available to visit.
When they were at a lull in conversation, she did it. The seamstress took her gift, approached, and held it out to him: a pair of fingerless gloves.
Being a creative force herself, she knew how important one's hands were. The were the tools necessary to sew or play music, and she'd always watched his when he was using them. They were the hands that set down the coffee he'd bought for her, the hands that played with her mice when she was too busy, and the hands that picked her up to place her outside of the rain's range. If he wore the gloves imbued with all her feelings for him, then it would be like he was always carrying her with him, the hands he'd used to express love being protected by her own.
The musician, normally one who always knew what to say, was left speechless by her confession. Even in the time it took for him to feel the gloves, put them on, and feel them again, he was still at a total loss.
Thankfully, as they'd proven over the course of their time together, words weren't always necessary to get one's feelings across. He looked at her, gloved hands cupping her face, and she caught her reflection in his eyes as he pulled her into a kiss. She easily reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer.
He might not have had the ability to infuse emotions into things like her, but she nevertheless felt the full force of his love.
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
After spending all of her teenage years as Ladybug, Marinette had thought that nothing could surprise her anymore. The magical earrings had chosen her a long time ago and, as an adult, she practically had all of Paris mapped out in her head. If she needed to go anywhere, she could do so in minutes.
That was exactly what she was doing, using her yoyo to swing from building to building as she made her way home. She'd just wrapped up some typical hero things - stopping a bank robbery, saving a kitten in a tree, the usual - and was looking forward to some rest at home.
Her eyes had long since grown adjusted to picking out the smallest details even while she swung along, so when she caught sight of what appeared to be someone lying face down in an alleyway, she stopped immediately. Letting herself drop down to the ground, she backtracked the small distance on foot and hesitantly peeked into the alley. Despite any horrors she may've seen in her line of "work," she still wasn't good with horror, so she hoped it wasn't a dead body.
It wasn't, but what she did see still had her jaw dropping. There in the alley was a merman, who must've somehow wound up there so far from the ocean. His black and blue hair obscured his face, but she was certain he was unconscious. There weren't any visible wounds to speak of and his body didn't react to being shook or poked.
Ladybug tapped her cheek in thought. Merfolk were rare enough that she didn't know much about them, but she could guess that he'd gone long enough without water nearby. That was the nice possibility anyway, and she preferred not to think of the other.
Thanking herself for her indoor pool at home, she grabbed one of the merman's arms and slowly settled it on her shoulder, trying to lift him into a carrying position. She could feel the thump of a heartbeat when her hand briefly touched his chest and was reassured for certain that he was alive at least.
——
Upon letting the merman down in the shallow part of her pool, Marinette pulled up a seat and tried to focus on a sketchpad in her lap. It probably - no, definitely - looked weird seeing someone handling a simple paper and pencil near water, but she needed something to do and wasn't inclined to leave the merman by himself.
...Pool water is fine, right? she wondered as she idly scribbled. If anything bad happens to him, are there merfolk police that will come after me?
It occurred to her again that she had no idea how he got there. For all she knew, he was dragged out of the water and ditched somewhere, the thought of which making a shudder run through her spine. She hoped that he'd be able to understand a map at least, as then she could simply take him home.
That, of course, all hinged on the fact that he was friendly, but Marinette felt her instincts had been honed enough by then to be able to tell. She'd offered him her pool - not that she used it anyway beyond practicing her aqua powers and bringing nonexistent dates there to swim - so the ideal was that he'd realize she meant no harm. He wasn't restrained in any way, after all.
I should stop thinking about it, she resolved, having long since learned that such paranoia had gotten her nowhere. Then, she looked down and realized that she'd been sketching the pattern on his tail without thinking. Sighing at herself in faint embarrassment, she flipped to a new page and started again on a sketch not in the least involving merfolk.
She was barely a minute in when a single splash caught her attention. She looked up from her sketchpad, noting that the merman was starting to stir and move about. His tail must've given an involuntary twitch while he was waking up and hit the water.
His eyelids fluttered open, revealing deep blue irises that slowly took in the room around him. They darted down to the pool underneath him, his tail intentionally swishing in the water this time, then his sight landed on her.
Marinette blinked, shoulders tensing. In all of her "infinite wisdom," she hadn't thought about how to strike up conversation yet. "...Hi?"
He blinked back, squinting, though she could tell that it was because he was still waking up. He pushed himself up tiredly with his arms, then pointed deeper into the pool and asked, "Do you mind if I swim over there?"
"What?" How was that his first question?! "U-um, sure? Go ahead!"
He took the invitation immediately, slowly adjusting his position to allow him to properly swim into the deeper part of her pool. She found herself inching towards the edge of her seat, head raised as she watched him effortlessly swim around. Had she had a swimming partner like that, trying to adjust to her aqua powers would've been a lot less difficult.
After a moment of moving about in the water, the merman emerged like he'd done the equivalent of a morning stretch. He looked refreshed, his eyes more focused as he moved his bangs out of his vision. "Thanks for saving me. I could've been in big trouble if you didn't find me."
His statements only brought more questions to her, both ping-ponging around in her head until she'd settled on addressing the latter first. "You weren't in trouble before?"
He swam closer to the edge of the pool - nearest to where she was - and rested his forearms there. "How much do you know about merfolk?" When she didn't answer for a few seconds, he took pity on her and explained, "We cast spells using our voice. I thought I practiced my shifting spell enough, but I ran out of magic before I could find my sister's place."
So it had nothing to do with water then, but exhaustion. Marinette's lips pursed, tapping her pencil against her sketchpad as she contemplated if it'd be offensive or not to ask the next burning question that'd surfaced in her brain. The merman stared, this time with curiosity, and her resolve broke to ask, "Um, does she... live at the aquarium or something?"
The way he flashed her a grin, as well as the slight shaking of his shoulders, gave away the almost laugh. Marinette flushed pink, desperate to defend herself.
"S-secretly, of course! I don't go to the aquarium but I know they don't have merfolk there!"
That got a snicker out of him, though he tried to hide it behind his hand. Once he'd calmed, he corrected her, "No. My sister lives with her human girlfriend here. She just has more practice using the shifting spell than I do." He smiled, just slightly shy as he admitted, "I've never been on land before, but I wanted to surprise her."
"Your sister lives on the land?" she pressed further, only growing more baffled the more he explained. "How great is this girlfriend? They must've known each other forever."
To her continued shock, he shook his head. "She started practicing the spell since she first saw her."
"What?!" Marinette didn't know how she went out to do generic heroism and came back with this. "So it was love at first sight?"
"Sound," he clarified, but quickly realized that wasn't descriptive enough. "Merfolk are so rare to see because most of us don't need to leave our groups. We hear the song in everyone's hearts and it tells us right away if someone's the one, so we fall in love quickly."
"Oh." That was all she could say at first, but when she thought about it further it made sense. She'd been wondering why he was so calm around her and willing to divulge such information. Now she knew: he'd already "heard" that she was trustworthy.
She blushed, faintly embarrassed at the idea of having her "soul" read. Unconsciously, she held the sketchpad against her chest, as if she were exposed and trying to cover herself.
"Sorry." He raised a hand in a gesture to show that he meant no harm. "I can't control it."
"It's fine," she assured, mentally digging a hole to bury the urge to ask what he thought of her song. Hurrying to change the subject, she asked, "What are you going to do now?"
"Mm." He had an expression that said he didn't know. Looking away, he ran a hand through his wet hair, mulling over his potential options. "I guess I'll have to go back and practice more, since I can't stay human long enough."
"Can't you just stay here?"
The merman's head jerked back to her, wide-eyed. "...Are you sure?"
Marinette put a hand over her mouth as if it would push back the words she'd already said. The hero instincts had kicked in, always encouraging her to put herself out there for others even if it was an inconvenience to her or overly-impulsive.
"Ah—" She genuinely thought about it since it was too late to take it back. "Yes? You could go to your sister's house from here once you feel better. Besides, you taught me about your kind and are going through all of this just to surprise someone, so..." She shrugged for lack of better reasoning. "I think I can trust you?"
He beamed. Putting both hands flat against the edge of the pool, he pushed himself up to sit on it, thus leaving him free to offer her a handshake. "Thank you...?"
The trailing off at the end was a gentle request for her name. She smiled back at him, getting off of her chair in order to kneel down next to him and shake his hand. "Marinette."
"Luka," he introduced in return.
She was sure that the pool's water had been cool, but his hand was warm.
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#Merman Luka Couffaine
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
Marinette was just tired, staring down at the ice cream on the ground as Andre scrambled to get her another. A fun time with her friends to run around Paris and maybe get a chance with Adrien had turned into a spotlight of embarrassment for her. The "couple time" her friends had been planning on having was now ruined to focus entirely on her, when all she wanted now was curl up into a corner and cry.
She felt bitter, watching as the mess on the bridge started to melt. It was like some sort of metaphor for how her attempts and opportunities all failed or slipped through her grasp, slowly but surely.
Andre grabbed her wrist and practically forced a replacement ice cream cone into her hand, saying stuff about how the magic doesn't lie and he must've just gotten the colors wrong, but she honestly wasn't listening anymore. She was in her own head, wondering, What would've been the point anyway? It's not like Adrien was coming to see me.
She couldn't see any reality in which that was false. He would've come for his friends, or for the thrill of the search, or maybe even just to have some ice cream. Even if she'd managed to make it all work out and share with him, what were the odds of everything afterward working out? She'd try to say something romantic and would mess it up, or he'd misunderstand and brush it off as nothing, or she'd be bumped into again and send the ice cream right onto his expensive clothes.
She winced at the thought. Maybe him not showing up was just a blessing in disguise, saving her from the humiliation of doing anything and having it all go wrong.
Marinette didn't want to make a big deal out of it, refusing to risk ruining her friends' time further. She diverted her attention to the ice cream cone in her hand, noting the blue and pink colors that she suspected were her own. Maybe Andre had just truly given up on her and this was the sign that it was a lost cause?
Or maybe he just realized that there was no way Adrien was coming and tried to save himself.
She stepped aside from everyone and sat down at a bench, keeping her distance from the happy couples while she poked at the ice cream with her tiny spoon. Andre wasn't exactly wrong if her thoughts on his mindset were true. Adrien always seemed to be unavailable when it mattered, and if she wanted to let herself spiral a little more, it almost seemed intentional.
After all, wasn't it a little too convenient that Adrien had missed out on the preparation for the music festival - when it would've been easiest for her to talk to him - just to show up afterward? Or for Adrien to have gotten the okay to go for ice cream only to be suddenly unavailable? Perhaps it would've been easy to pass those off if it weren't for the fact that Nino so rarely complained about their time together, and Adrien's schedule had been magically free when it came to him setting Nino up with her.
If her suspicions were accurate, then either Adrien knew how she felt and was doing everything possible to avoid her, or he just generally found her uncomfortable to be around; maybe even thought she was weird. Part of her wanted to defend that, suggesting that saying nothing was the "nice" thing to do, but her history of crushing on him when she apparently had no chance would disagree with that. She would've saved herself a lot of time then.
She huffed to herself, scooping up a bit of her ice cream and resolving to eat her sorrows away instead. Faintly recalling Andre's comment about how the magic only works if you eat it, she shook her head in disbelief and thought with a bittersweet expression, If I need magic to make him come see me, then what's the point?
She had opened her mouth, ready to finally taste the sweet treat, when a voice called out, "Marinette?"
Marinette paused, looking towards the source. Luka was standing just at the end of the bridge, presumably having been walking by as he spotted her. She smiled, wordlessly inviting him over, and he returned it as he made his way towards her.
"What are you up to?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"I was just taking a walk to the Trocadéro," he replied, his casual tone assuring her that she wasn't delaying anything serious, "but then I heard your song and wanted to check."
She ducked her head shyly, using her ice cream as an excuse to look away from him. She finally ate a bit, letting the taste of blueberry melt into her mouth. Already, she was feeling a little better.
When she looked back up, Luka hadn't looked away from her. Their friends (if they were Luka's friends anyway; they might've only been Juleka's) were only a small distance away, as well as the ice cream stand, but he didn't seem inclined to leave even to go say "hi."
Smiling, Marinette used her spare hand to pat the spot on the bench next to her, not unlike when he invited her to sit on his bed. Luka didn't waste any time, happily taking a seat beside her.
Whether or not he knew the legend, she was certain that he must've seen both the couples as well as the ice cream they were sharing that was made exactly like hers. She felt grateful at the idea that he was intentionally not prodding, even if he might've been curious.
"Someone didn't show," she explained anyway, fidgeting with her cone, "but I also might've gotten ditched."
He frowned, a hand going to her shoulder in sympathy. "I'm so sorry."
She shook her head, appreciating but not needing the comment. "It's okay. It was never going to work out anyway."
She wondered for a second if she was just fooling herself, but Luka's smile assured her otherwise. If he believed her, she must've meant it.
"Still," Luka began as he leaned back, crossing his ankles before continuing, "in our band, Rose writes the lyrics and I'm in charge of the music. Jule and Ivan feel bad about it sometimes, but we're all putting in effort to make it come together, so we don't mind."
Marinette hummed, nodding as she took that in. She could understand that, of course, given that she'd put effort into just about everything she did, from gaming to fashion to romance.
She never got any effort returned for the latter, either because it all went bad before reaching its intended recipient or it didn't change anything. She still had to ask for Adrien's whereabouts and information when she wanted to know, she'd thought they'd bonded over a shared love of games yet he never mentioned it to her again, and in retrospect, despite her image of him as the kind prince locked away in a tower, he hadn't given her a hand or showed any concern when Chloe shoved her.
The one thing she could think of was the charm he'd given her on her birthday based on the charm that she'd given him - which was so often a defense she came up with in her head - only now she’d finally remembered that she had loaned it to him and he'd just held onto it, thus making the situation seem substantially less romantic. It also didn't escape her that her luck had somehow gotten worse since then, even it was just the universe personally spiting her. "Hey, I'm glad you like having my luck and everything, but can I have it back?" she asked the imaginary Adrien in her head.
Luka had the luxury for her of being an "outsider" to all of it. They'd only met recently, so his knowledge of her relationships was extremely limited. Had it been one of the girls instead, they probably would've asked before she'd even gotten the chance to bring it up.
This was nice. Luka was nice. She still felt bubbly thinking about his apology at the first sign she was upset by him, how his first instinct was to protect her from the akuma, and the way he asked about her first to Ladybug even after having safely hidden her away. It was entirely possible that it had nothing to do with her and that it was just how Luka cared for people, but she actually liked that thought more.
"...Oh," she uttered in realization, noting that she was sitting there with ice cream while Luka wasn't. She turned to him, ensuring that he could see the second spoon still stuck in the ice cream. "Do you want any?"
His gaze flickered from the ice cream to her, confirming that she meant her ice cream. She nodded and he happily took the second spoon, adding a soft, "Thanks. I don't know what you got, but I love the colors."
She beamed, admiring the way his black nails stuck out against the color of the spoon as he scooped some of the ice cream she'd yet to try. Even in his mannerisms, he was such a sweetheart—
Wait.
"Ah—Luka, stop!" Marinette hurried to say, reaching out but not quite touching his wrist. "That's Sweetheart's Ice Cream! Maybe we should get you a different one."
He stopped, blinking at her confusedly. She'd honestly thought he'd know what she was talking about without her having to explain, but he seemed truly clueless.
"Um..." She gestured at it with her free hand. "People go all over Paris looking for Andre so they can taste his Sweetheart's Ice Cream." She raised a finger as she made her point. "They say that if two people eat it together, they'll be together forever!"
Huh. It actually sounded a little ridiculous when she said it to someone who didn't know.
She forged on anyway, figuring that she might as well finish what she started, "I-I don't want to magically attach us together? Especially because you didn't know that and..." She pouted, unsure if it was okay to touch on the topic but adding, "I thought you might have a girlfriend already? Or a boyfriend?"
Luka's eyes left hers to look at the tiny bit of ice cream on his spoon. He turned it left and right like he was trying to spot what exactly made it so magic, but it looked blatantly like normal, plain ice cream.
Eventually, he shrugged, catching her free hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Thanks for looking out for me, Marinette, but I've never had anyone like that."
"Wh—really?" The shock of him knowing nothing of Sweetheart's Ice Cream paled in comparison to him never having had a partner. "So you're single?"
She'd asked out of sheer curiosity, but blushed when it became apparent how they sounded.
Luka, her savior from embarrassment, didn't even flinch and took it in stride. "Yeah." He looked back down at the ice cream, wondering aloud, "Do you believe in it?"
"Believe in...?" It took Marinette a second to remember what they'd been talking about. She followed his gaze to the ice cream, thinking the question over seriously. Could there actually be a magical solution to tie her to someone, or even just to help? Her parents had gotten together and thought fondly of their time with Sweetheart's Ice Cream, but did they actually believe in it? As Luka had asked, did she believe in it?
"...No. I don't think so," she sighed.
Funnily (or maybe tragically) enough, being Ladybug and getting exposed to the world's "magic" had made her more critical of the idea. "Magic" never actually solved any of her problems and often made them worse instead.
"I like what you said," she added with a self-conscious chuckle, "about effort. Sharing ice cream is nice, but there's no magic to it."
He nodded in agreement. "We don't have to worry then."
"Are you sure?" she continued to prod, though at this point it might not have been about the "magic" element anymore.
Instead of answering, he finally ate the ice cream that had been on his spoon, a pleased hum following at the taste. "Even if it was true, I wouldn't mind."
"You... wouldn't mind being tied to me?" she asked, her blush deepening. His directness was good - really, really good - because it left no room for her to misinterpret it, but she certainly wasn't used to it.
"Mhm." He confirmed it like it wasn't a big deal, but there was a warmth to his face that could've melted the ice cream on contact. "You're talented, amazing, and brave. Why wouldn't I?"
Marinette had experienced flirting before, but only under a mask. Even beyond Chat, there were a few people she'd saved who couldn't help but get a word in about how pretty she was or how awesome it was that she'd thrown the akuma into a web she'd fashioned out of her yoyo.
This was different though. He wasn't saying it to charm her, or gush about strength and dexterity she could only achieve after being powered up. He was just saying how he honestly felt without an ounce of exaggeration.
Shy, she attempted to take a bit more ice cream to give herself time to respond, but a bit turned to a lot when she mistakenly scooped too much. Trying not to laugh, she bit her bottom lip, almost in awe by how things had turned around after just a bit of introspection. She hadn't even realized how much was weighing her down until she let it all go.
"...Luka," she dared to call, throwing caution to the wind. When their gazes met, she held the spoon out to him encouragingly.
His lips parted for a moment - the first sign of throwing him off she'd gotten today - but like a puppy being offered a treat, he obediently leaned over and opened his mouth further to clamp down on the ice cream.
It did actually feel a little magic, but she was certain that it wasn't the legend's doing.
——
——
Marinette walked into her kitchen, letting her long hair down as she prepared to relax for the day. It was still strange getting used to having her own house, but not unwelcome, and one of the biggest pluses was that she didn't have to dig through her parents' weird dessert tastes in the freezer to get to what she wanted.
Pulling out two containers of ice cream at random - welcoming a little chaos in mixing the flavors - she set them on the counter and took out two bowls as well. Scooping an appropriate amount of the two flavors into them ("appropriate" for a lazy day anyway), she added one spoon in each before putting the containers back and taking the bowls out to the living room.
Luka, her boyfriend of almost five years, was skimming through a selection of movies on the couch to decide what they should watch. At the first sight of her though, he stopped, setting them down and welcoming her close.
She set her bowl down on the table, holding the other out to him and taking the time to give him a kiss on the forehead. He responded by pulling her down to kiss her chin, never one to leave a smooch unreturned.
Pulling back, she took in the sight of him holding ice cream and giggled. Unapologetically, she stated, "I guess that ice cream legend was right after all. You've already been stuck with me for years."
Luka raised a brow at her and smirked, catching the joke instantly. He held his arm out, allowing her to plop down next to him and snuggle against his side. "Mm, maybe I should've listened to you back then." Their lips met in a kiss as he blindly reached for the spoon in his bowl, scooping up some ice cream with it. "But you know what I said."
Marinette nodded, tucking her hair behind her earring-less ears before accepting the bite he fed her. "Mhm~" She took her time to savor the taste before swallowing, smiling contentedly as she responded, "I didn't mind being tied to you either."
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#type: salt#episode: Glaciator#((Every episode where stuff like this happens to her my brain just jumps to))#((okay but what if this was the one where she realized ''hey maybe the hand I was dealt kinda sucks?''))#((I was going to say that this is nothing but self-indulgence but that's technically every Lukanette piece I write))
119 notes
·
View notes
Text
Luka opened the side door to Marinette's house and entered with a skip in his step. Any day seeing Marinette was a great one, but they were going out for a date today. They hadn't decided on a particular place - only the time - but that was part of the fun in their minds.
However, he'd only taken a few steps before he heard footsteps charging at him, barely turning in time to see Marinette's dad approaching and two hands coming down on his shoulders.
"Luka," he spoke. The seriousness in his voice contrasted sharply with the words that followed. "Marinette is baking too many cakes!"
Luka blinked. Leaning his body as best as he could to see past the oversized man and into the bakery, he couldn't spot Marinette anywhere. He was confused, but glad, feeling that it would've shone a negative light on his abilities as her boyfriend to not be able to instantly spot her from out of the corner of his eye when he'd come in.
Looking up at Tom for answers, he asked, "Is she baking upstairs?"
Tom didn't respond, brows furrowed as he continued to stare, possibly waiting for something. Marinette's mother looked over her shoulder at them, putting Luka out of his befuddlement by explaining, "He means projects. Marinette has been working all day on her projects."
Ah, it was a metaphor. He should've known.
Shifting his eyes from Sabine to Tom, Luka patted Tom's forearm and assured, "I'll take care of it, Mr. Dupain. Thanks for telling me."
Tom hung his head, though it was hard to tell whether it was in relief that Marinette was getting help or defeat that he had to rely on someone else to go talk to her. "You're a good boy."
Luka pulled back, Tom returning to the bakery while Luka himself went up the stairs. Hearing that Marinette was overworking herself wasn't a surprise to him, especially since it was something he firmly considered themselves to be "still working on." It was a system they'd had of trying to help each other: she'd inform him of new things she'd committed to working on so he could catch on before she'd taken too many, whereas he would be a little selfish and express things he'd like to do that she'd yet to bring up in their relationship. While he was normally insistent on going at her pace, she insisted on letting him take her out of her comfort zone whenever he could. "One of the important things in a relationship is compromise!" she'd explained.
He chuckled at the memory.
Entering the living room, he headed up the stairs and knocked on the trapdoor to Marinette's room. "Marinette?"
There was no answer. He waited a generous amount of time, then knocked slightly louder in case she hadn't heard him. When that failed as well, he got worried and invited himself inside.
His eyes took in Marinette first and widened immediately. She was lying on the floor, having seemingly fallen from her computer chair at some point in time. Surrounding her were all sorts of jewelry, tools, and other various objects, but Luka's priority went only to her.
He rushed over, supporting her as best as he could as he tried to sit her up. Letting her lean against him, he called out, "Marinette? Hey, come back to me..."
He used his free hand to cup her cheek, which finally seemed to do something to her. She whined, her body turning towards him and weakly gripping the fabric of his clothes. He thought she might've fallen back asleep when she relaxed, but eventually, she started to open her eyes.
"...Luka?" she mumbled groggily.
He didn't wait to ask, "Are you okay?"
"Mm...mm?" She pulled back, squinting at him and then the rest of their surroundings. Her mental gears turned as she took in the room, then his presence, and finally the fact that both of them were on the floor. Realization overtook her face a few seconds later, a gasp escaping her as she shot up to her feet.
"T-the time! I—nggh." She staggered from the feeling of standing up too quickly.
Luka stood as well, one hand on her back and the other going to her side furthest from him. Once he was certain that she wouldn't fall, he scolded gently, "You promised to tell me when you accepted new projects."
"T...they're not—" She yawned, shutting one of her eyes and rubbing at her eyelids with the heel of her hand. "They're not projects. They're, uh... gifts."
"Gifts," he echoed, hoping that his tone got across the hope for a more complete explanation.
She shrugged for lack of anything solid. "I-I wanted to get ahead on a couple of birthday presents, but then that got me thinking about gift ideas for everyone else. I was worried that the motivation would go away if I waited or just wrote it down, so I kept working. Then I thought about all the other gifts I could make, especially for you before our date, and—"
"I don't need your gifts," Luka stated flatly, his grip on her side tensing. The almost cold tone he'd given her registered as he saw the anxious look on her face, and he added with a sigh, "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to make me anything if it means tiring yourself out like this."
She frowned, leaning against him and nuzzling his shoulder. "I...I wanted to show everyone how much I appreciated them. That's all."
"You shouldn't have to." Keeping her side held with one hand, he used the other to move her bangs so he could place a soothing kiss on her forehead. "I already feel appreciated, and everyone else should too. They shouldn't need gifts to be your friends."
She made a noncommittal noise, not willing to abandon what she'd worked on but acknowledging his point. Another yawn escaped her, arms wrapping around him as she buried herself against him even more.
"I'm sorry too," she murmured weakly. "Our date was today. You came all the way here and now I'm tired."
"Don't worry about it." He opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped short when he got an idea. Bringing her close with both arms around her waist, he wondered aloud, "Am I still allowed something selfish?"
"Of course?" She was still upset about "ruining" things but didn't shut down verbally. "Why? What do you want?"
Showing by action, he shifted against her so he could lean down. Putting one arm at the back of her thighs, he let out a small grunt as he lifted her fully off the floor.
"L-Luka?" Marinette's voice came out fully awake at the sudden loss of anything underneath her. She clung to him, not unlike a koala as her legs went around his waist for extra support.
"You should sleep." He was already walking, unphased by the weight of an entire person on him as he ascended the stairs to her bed. "I won't leave either, so we can count it as our date."
"T-that doesn't sound like a date," she feebly refuted.
"We didn't make any plans," he reminded her, "so it could've been anything, even this."
She didn't have an argument to that, only an unconvincing whine.
The soft surface gave slightly under his and Marinette's weight as he got down on both knees. Marinette untangled herself from him so he had his hands free to pull back the blanket for her. Once she got comfortable and had made room for him, he laid down as well and covered the both of them. It was the first time he could ever say he was truly pushing his luck with his "selfish" requests, but the situation had called for it and he knew it was the only way to get her to accept.
When she snuggled against him for warmth that she definitely didn't need, he knew it was the right choice. He hadn't approved of what got them there, but couldn't complain about the results.
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ladybug just barely managed to squeeze through the window of the Liberty without being seen, her groan overtaking the sound of her detransformation. Finding places to hide as Marinette was simple when she could so easily slip out of a group, but when Ladybug got so much attention from everyone, it was nearly impossible to get back to where she was before. As it was, she'd had to use her aqua powers to hide in the water until she was sure it was safe to leap into the Liberty.
Maybe I should start carrying the mouse, she thought, slapping her cheeks to try and snap herself back into focus. Her mind whirled as she tried to remember what her excuse had been so she could follow up on it.
She was pretty sure it’d been snacks; she’d told everyone that she was heading downstairs to get snacks and drinks for them.
Heading over to the door leading to the deck, she opened it back up and hurried to grab some trays to put snacks on. Fumbling to gather things to make up for the time she was away, she tried not to get distracted by the conversation she could faintly hear up on deck.
"Haven't you wanted to change your look? It's been months now," came Mylene's voice. "Those costumes are starting to get old. I don't know about everyone else's, but Ivan's is starting to get beat up."
Marinette froze. Even without hearing the specific words, she knew they were talking about Kitty Section's costumes.
"We could ask Marinette to fix them up?" Rose suggested.
Alya dismissed the idea. "She's been busy all week! There's no way."
She wasn't wrong. Marinette tensed, already thinking about what'd just happened. She was living three lives - Marinette, Ladybug, and now the guardian - so it was only logical that she couldn't keep up.
"Oh," Zoe piped up. "If it's the costumes, I could find someone who's worked with real bands before on costumes? You could get a designer who could make something that'd last for a long time."
"Really? That's right, you even know the mayor!"
"That'd be awesome!"
"As long as you don't let Chloe hear, okay?"
Marinette fidgeted with the tray, hating the fact that a familiar jealousy was stirring in her chest. She and Zoe were friends, with Marinette being the one who vouched for her in the first place, so she had no one to blame but herself. Zoe was a great person: she was friendly, not awkward, and was even building a better relationship with the mayor of Paris. Anyone would want her company and Marinette couldn't compete with that.
It was inevitable that the costumes could get worn or damaged too, even by accident. She breathed up, steeling herself for the topic as she took the trays of snacks and started heading up to the deck.
Then, she heard Luka chime in, "They're Marinette's designs. We worked on them together and those two weeks are a verse I never want to forget."
"You don't have to throw the costumes away or anything," Alix interjected, confused by the emotional weight behind the words. "You'll just have new designs."
He paused, then directed his voice elsewhere as he asked, "What do you guys think?"
Some hums sounded amongst the rest of Kitty Section, Rose speaking up first to say, "New designs just mean we have more designs, right?"
Ivan added on, unsure, "I thought it was cool of Marinette to make these for us. It's kinda hard finding stuff that fits me."
"Mm," Juleka hummed noncommittally. "I like the worn look..."
"I guess it would be up to the band," Mylene pointed out. "Maybe we could vote yay or nay?"
"We're not getting anywhere like this," Alya countered. "All I'm saying is that it'll just put pressure on—"
By that point, Marinette had already stepped into view with the trays. She'd taken time and focus so as to not topple anything by accident, but was still wholly aware of the conversations. All eyes darted to her and it was difficult to tell who felt awkward and who was simply waiting for her to speak.
Keeping her expression as flat as possible, she went over to the nearest table and set the trays down. Standing straight to face everyone, she told them, "It's like Alya said: I'm busy. I'm not reliable enough to make repairs or new ones either, so..." She shrugged as casually as she could. "Those designs were made on a time crunch anyway, and I want you guys to have the best."
"See?" Alya gestured at Marinette whilst looking at Luka. "She thinks so too."
Having just been Ladybug a few minutes ago, Marinette had already had more than enough attention for the day. Preferring not to involve herself further, she turned on her heel and started heading back below deck, leaving Zoe free to use her connections without guilt of her watching.
"Marine—" Luka called behind her, but stopped short. She heard his footsteps follow after hers, but didn't discourage him and continued walking.
As she re-entered the lounge room, she went straight for the couch; not around, but straight ahead for the backrest. Putting her hands on top, she hefted herself over and plopped down onto the cushions, allowing her to lay back and stare up at the ceiling. A click of the door followed and Luka's face soon hovered over her from above the backrest.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Why? You were trying to defend me."
He put his forearms up on the couch, allowing him to lean forward more. "You're part of the band too, to me. I shouldn't've said anything without you there."
"You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.
"I just wanted to make sure there wasn't something deeper to it."
As deep as a bottomless pit, Marinette lamented, wanting to scream but not having the voice to. Instead, she waved her arms about and continued to insist, "Look, I really am busier than when I made you those outfits! That's why we we couldn't date!"
His eyes widened at that, and it took her a moment to realize why: she hadn't specified that part when they'd broken up. She'd been tired, emotionally drained, and not thinking particularly clearly at the time, so the actual reasoning had been left out.
"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette," was what he'd said then, but the actual timeline after the fact was a little fuzzy for some reason. She guessed it was also related to her exhaustion.
She sat up to be closer to him, talking again before she could think further on it, "I'd feel awful if Kitty Section had to keep holding itself back because I don't have the energy for it, okay? You guys need new costumes and Zoe is the best for the job, so don't do this for me—"
"Zoe?" Luka's brows drew together in puzzlement.
"...Yes?" She tilted her head, equally confused by his response. "She's the one who offered. She has connections that I don't."
He shook his head. "That's not it. She's not the best for the job, she's just finding someone else to do it."
Marinette stopped halfway to a reply, having been caught in her mindset. Either he was that observant or she was extremely transparent about it. She planted her soles on the floor, turning so that her back faced him.
Luka walked around the couch to sit next to her, keeping a careful distance but being close enough for them to talk comfortably with each other. "Zoe can't do what you do, Marinette." Then, thoughtful, he assured, "But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
Except that was just the thing. She wanted to - always wanted to - yet there were never-ending obstacles to that. Everything she said had to be carefully calculated or she'd run the risk of causing everyone more trouble, but sometimes the choice would just be taken from her anyway if she waited too long. It was a tightrope walk of balancing words she should say with words that she shouldn't.
And she wanted off.
"I—" She grit her teeth, hands gripping the fabric of her capris. "It's not... it's not about what she can do. It's about what she doesn't have to. She doesn't have to worry about a packed schedule, or dealing with responsibilities she didn't ask for, or making time to do something for a friend because she can find someone else to do it."
Luka let out a hum of acknowledgment. She saw his hand reach over out of the corner of her eye, hovering silently over her hand closest to him. When she didn't pull back or express displeasure, his hand dropped onto hers and squeezed.
"There's nothing wrong with being jealous," he told her.
Stiffening, she pulled away from him on the couch and stood back up, arguing, "But there is! Zoe hasn't done anything wrong and I'm not allowed to want you after what happened, especially not when she's just a better me!"
"...What?"
She groaned, messing up her own bangs just so she could fix them again. "A better me. She was bullied too, but she's not—she's not like me. No one teases her or makes fun of her for what she does, but I'm such a disaster with everything that—"
"You want me?" he clarified.
Marinette met his gaze, having thought that was obvious from having told him why she'd had to break up with him. "Yeah? Who wouldn't?" Paying no mind to the blush that appeared on his face, she continued to throw her arms out and vent, "But I don't make people happy! I don't fit! Zoe doesn't get upset like I do, she doesn't have to run off all the time, and she doesn't make people argue over costumes since she's not the one who makes them anyway!"
She couldn't even look at Luka anymore, too ashamed to face him directly. She couldn't recall how she'd made the connection between her own issues and Zoe's, but finding out that she was jealous was another matter. It took time to properly recognize the feeling, but only because her initial experiences with jealousy were different.
Specifically, with Adrien. Whenever it came to seeing other girls around him, she'd wanted to interfere, to stop it at all costs. The exception had been Kagami at times, but due to a mixture of guilt and a desire not to lose her friendship with someone who'd openly told her (openly told Ladybug) that she prioritized pursuing Adrien over said friendship.
With Luka though, she'd never felt any rivalry or animosity towards anyone she deemed a "better fit" for him, and she never thought to act out on it. While Zoe had never made attempts to go after Luka herself, Marinette imagined it was only a matter of time if Zoe was indeed a better her, and she'd find it hard to complain if it ended up working out.
The difference in her states of jealousy was obvious: one was an obsession - "eyes on the prize," so to speak - while the other was a genuine love and desire to see the person she loved be happy. It hurt thinking about how it would all end regardless, but she was prepared to face it.
"...Marinette," Luka began slowly, still piecing his words together. He inhaled, exhaled, then finally said, "You can't decide that."
She faltered, scared to look at him directly in case she had an unpleasant expression on, but too confused not to do something. She turned her head just enough to peek at him through her bangs.
He continued without her asking directly, "No one makes me happy the way you do. Not Zoe, not anyone. You can't decide who fits me best just like everyone else can't decide what to do about the costumes without hearing you out first."
"But..." She shook her head despondently. "It was a nightmare dating me? I don't want you to want me if it'll just lead to that."
"What if you're the musician?"
That got her to look at him, in sheer befuddlement if nothing else. She'd registered the oncoming metaphor, but still failed to follow it to its conclusion. "What do you mean?"
"What if you're the musician, and I'm the guitar you had to stop playing because the music didn't sound right?" He put his hands in place to act as if there was a guitar in his lap. "Then you see a newer, fancier guitar that comes with all sorts of accessories, and everyone thinks you'd look great with it."
She gaped, horrified by the thought. "I-I wouldn't want that!" She sat down next to him again, huffing. "Just because it's new and fancy doesn't mean it'd work for me, and I already have memories with the guitar I have now! Maybe the music didn't work but—"
Something clicked. Luka must've seen it in her expression too, his frown making way for a smile instead.
"...There's nothing wrong with the instrument," she finished quietly.
He nodded. "Yeah. It was bad timing. Even the best musicians can get the timing wrong when it matters."
Sliding closer to her as she'd done earlier to him, he gripped her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Marinette gasped sharply, suddenly surrounded by warmth when she'd felt so cold before. It really was as if he'd never let her go so long as she didn't move.
Whispering so as to not break the moment, Luka questioned, "Do you know what it was about my dad?"
She gripped onto whatever fabric was nearest to her, uttering a soft, "M-mm?" in response.
"I know he left, and it hurt me, but he came back in the end. He wanted to make it up to me. He could've decided that I wasn't worth it, or that he still wasn't interested in being around me, but he didn't." He rubbed her back, seeking to soothe her. "I believe in second chances, and if someone wants to ask me for one, then it's my choice to let them back in. I'm choosing you, Marinette."
She blinked rapidly, feeling potential tears coming on. While reluctant to pull apart from him, she broke the hug momentarily to see his face again. The temptation to jump on the offer was strong, but she admitted, "I...I don't know how to convince myself that it's okay."
"I can show you," he offered. "We'll take it at whatever pace you want, and I'll show you that it's okay."
Her eyes give him the answer before her mouth did, her body stunned still by the gesture. She'd really thought that she'd lost him for good and that there wasn't any hope left, but he stuck with her anyway.
She wanted to kiss him in gratitude, but it didn't happen right away. The close contact made it easy for her to let her hands wander, fingertips trailing across the bare skin of his forearms. Luka accepted all of it, reciprocating by touching her face and feeling along her cheekbones as if he hadn't already memorized every centimeter of them.
They were the kinds of touches that she'd - that they'd - wanted since they got together in the first place, but never did. They're gentle yet eager, tentative yet meaningful.
The kiss followed afterward, somewhat clumsy when their noses bumped, but they weren't deterred from continuing. They held each other, relishing in the contact they hadn't gotten to have the first time they'd attempted it at the cinema. Even the soft 'click' as they pulled apart became ingrained in Marinette's memory as something special.
Luka touched his lips with his fingertips, feeling along the surface, but stopped to point out, "You've been worrying about me this whole time."
"H-hm?" She also had to stop herself from touching her lips to reply.
"What about you?" he prompted, staring at her directly. "How do you feel?"
Her lips quivered, but she was smiling. Knowing that he knew the answer already, she threw her arms around him to return his hug from earlier.
She felt happy. She felt like she could safely talk to him about things without fear or repercussions. She felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders, even if it was only for a moment.
Most importantly, she felt loved.
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Marinette hummed to herself, mulling over the various fabrics laid out in front of her. Her witch's hat tipped down a little whenever she lowered her head and she made a mental note to have her first fashion line be "alternate witch headwear" no matter the cost.
The cafe was a great place to get ideas and have the usual silence of her room replaced with the idle chatter of everyone else. It being all-inclusive was just a bonus that allowed her to look around and imagine what the various other species of people would look like in the clothes she designed.
The scent of coffee and pastries wafted through the area, her own sweetened coffee at her side while she worked.
Silk is too smooth. Cervitaurs like a bit more texture in their clothes, she thought, staring down at her fabrics on the table. She felt the corner of one, then moved on to the next, dissatisfied with how each rubbed against her. But elves have sensitive skin, so they might find wool too itchy and uncomfortable.
She tapped mindlessly on the table, the enlarged sewing needle in her hand acting as her wand as she pointed it to the textiles on the table. The tip of the needle glowed, Marinette flicking her wand and watching the fabric move around at her will. She redid her sorting for the tenth time that session, or maybe it was the fourteenth? She'd lost count and the sweetened coffee at her side was probably getting cold by now.
With a defeated sigh, Marinette slammed her wand down and collapsed onto the table, lamenting, Maybe there is no "one fabric" for everyone after all. Would I have to invent a new one instead?
She supposed the other problem could be the background music. She loved Jagged Stone's music, but it wasn't good for productivity and the only change the cafe made was that she couldn't hear the lyrics. If it was a knock-off so they didn't have to pay for Jagged's actual music, it was a good one.
She looked over, curious for the source of the song if only to distract herself. She spotted a naga lounging in the corner with black hair and blue highlights, playing on his guitar like imitating someone else's music was no big deal to him. It was impressive to her how his fingers strummed without hesitation or thought, his face not showing even an ounce of stress despite the attention on him from onlookers.
Although, when she really looked at him, he didn't seem invested in what he was playing at all, which was a stark contrast to Jagged's upbeat style coming from his fingertips. Marinette surveyed the room, wondering if he actually worked there to provide music for everyone, because she couldn't imagine why else he'd be there if he didn't enjoy what he was doing. The easiest way to find out was to simply ask, but she couldn't just go up to a stranger and start pestering him with personal questions, even if she wanted to know... right?
Staring down at her fabrics again, the complete lack of ideas practically staring back at her, she groaned and pulled her bag out to shove all of her supplies inside. Whatever. I'm not getting anything done anyway.
——
Marinette shifted in her seat as she waited for the mystery naga boy to be free. Even after the song had finished, he got approached by an employee and she couldn't make out what they were saying. She did catch him rubbing his arm though, making her wonder if it was from nerves or if the room was a little too chilly.
Finally, the employee stepped aside, allowing her to stand up from her table and try to approach as casually as possible. The boy's eyes met hers, probably sensing her presence, but he didn't move or show any sign of discomfort.
"You're really good," she complimented, prioritizing praise over his abilities above all else. "You've been playing Jagged Stone, right?"
He smiled, nodding at her. "Yeah, that's right."
There was a casualness to him of not minding being spoken to, but she could see the look in his eyes of someone who's used to having this exact conversation with other people. That was fine with her, as it wasn't her intended topic of discussion anyway.
She played with a strand of her hair, unsure of how to broach the subject. "Was... that because they asked you to play it?"
His back straightened in surprise. He looked down at his guitar and furrowed his brows, running his hand idly along the neck. "What made you think that?"
Marinette realized only now how awkward the conversation was about to become if she was wrong. She swallowed nervously, deciding to commit regardless. "You didn't seem interested in playing, even though you look so comfortable with your guitar."
She meant it. When she'd watched his body language, he seemed as if he'd been playing since he was really young. She could relate with her own interest in fashion, so she knew what it was like.
The naga eyed her, then searched the room cautiously like he was afraid of being caught. When he looked back at her, he set his guitar down and slowly pushed himself up, Marinette letting out a squeak when he leaned in close.
"You hit the note perfectly," he told her in a whisper, "but I'm not allowed to say that."
She gasped, covering her nose and mouth with both hands. It muffled her voice, but her reply came out clear enough: "And I asked you in front of everyone!"
He shook his head. "You're fine. I don't think anyone heard, and I can only get in trouble for answering."
She brought her hands down, feeling sympathetic to him. While he didn't say it, if he had such restrictions placed on him that he didn't like, then it must've been one of the few jobs he could get. He was still young - certainly not that much older than her - so finding a place where people would take him seriously must've been hard.
"It seems like such a shame." She frowned, keeping her voice low to maintain their secret conversation. "You're so talented, but you have to play other people's songs."
He shrugged, sad but giving her a reassuring, grateful smile. "Maybe someday. For now, they only want me to play what's popular, so I can't try my own music."
"Your own music?" she repeated, almost breaking the 'safe' volume between them with her intrigue. She'd suspected that he wrote music himself, so it was nice having it confirmed. "Could I hear it sometime? I'm sure it's amazing."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really!" It wasn't out of pity for him, but a genuine longing for the passion of another creative mind.
Before he could respond, an annoyed voice called from afar, "Couffaine! No flirting on the job!"
Marinette blushed. She supposed there were only so many ways their current situation could be interpreted, and if the place was already judging him based on his age, there was only one.
The naga, unphased, turned towards the voice and smirked. "I'm going on break." He reached for his guitar, holding it against himself and softening his expression when he met her gaze again. "Do you want to come with me?"
"What?" Her brain clicked, remembering what they'd been talking about. She was surprised that it'd be so soon - so immediate - but she wouldn't complain. "O-oh! Yeah, let's go!"
They went for the door together, her holding it open for him and hearing a hushed, "It's Luka, by the way," as he slithered past.
"Ma—Marinette!" she exclaimed in return, following after him.
——
The two of them wound up settling down in a park with a fountain, Marinette sitting down on the fountain's stone wall while Luka was content lounging on the ground. She expected him to start playing right away, but he put his guitar off to the side instead.
At her confused look, he asked, "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"We only talked about me," he explained. "You had some things on your table and you were moving them around, so I thought..."
He SAW that?! She was absolutely mortified. The fact that he was watching her too made her feel less weird about her initial motivation in approaching him, yet she hadn't wanted his impression of her to be her succeeding in a whole lot of nothing.
Luka, probably reading her expression, put his arms up next to her on the stone and assured, "I don't think there's anything wrong with needing time to make a song work, but you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I was just curious."
Marinette drummed her fingers on her lap, shy. She'd shown interest in him but hadn't expected the same in return.
"You stuck your tongue out to the side when you were focused," he continued, voice gentler than before. "My sister tells me that I do something like that: the end of my tail flicks back and forth when I'm 'focusing too much.'"
He was relating to her to help her relax, even though he'd already given her an out. The worst part was that it was working, and she managed to answer, "I-I specialize in fashion, so I was looking at some fabric."
"What kind of fashion do you make?"
"All kinds, even accessories. Like..." She sat her bag on her lap and opened it, but couldn't find anything she could use inside. Pouting, but refusing to give up when she wanted to impress him, she asked hopefully, "Do you have anything small on you? Something that you're not that attached to?"
Luka looked towards the bag he was wearing around his waist, unzipping one of the pockets and fishing inside for an object that matched her description. When he held one up to her, triangular and round at the edges, she figured that it must've been a spare guitar pick of his.
"I-is that really okay?" She took it, turning it in her hands. "What if something happens to the one you have now?"
"Don't worry. I've got plenty," he assured, zipping his bag back up and patting it for emphasis.
She wasn't sure if she could believe him, but didn't see any reason to make a fuss about it. Retrieving her wand from her bag, she held the guitar pick close to her chest and shut one eye for precision. The tip of her wand made contact with the tip of the guitar pick and she used a touch of magic to form a hole in it. She then took a thick piece of string from her bag, threading it through the hole and pinching both ends together. Rubbing them between her thumb and index finger, she whispered soft words to bind them, leaving the string forming a complete circle when she let go.
It was still a bit plain, but that was inevitable since she was just improvising. Pressing the blunt end of the wand to her cheek in contemplation, she wondered aloud, "Do you mind if I touch your tail?"
He didn't ask why, shifting his tail about so that he could raise it up to her. Marinette offered him a smile in thanks, then began to draw magic on her palm with her wand. She was tempted to comment on the adorable way Luka tried to lean in to watch, but didn't.
As she finished off the pattern she'd drawn, it glowed blue along with her eyes. Turning her attention to Luka, she placed her hand on his tail and began to run it across. He shuddered at the sensation, though it didn't affect her work.
"Sorry," she said, "I've never done this on anyone, so I didn't know that'd happen."
"It's okay." Then, more curiously, "Done what?"
When she took her hand off, she showed him: the color, pattern, and texture of his tail had been replicated directly onto it. Luka's eyes were wide with awe and she felt a burst of pride in her chest.
Closing her fist around the string with her tail-patterned hand, she pulled and pulled at the string with her other one. With each pull, the part of the string that went through her closed fist came out with the exact same pattern as Luka's tail, until finally it matched it entirely. Satisfied, Marinette shook her magic-imbued hand in the air, the pattern coming off like wind blowing dust away.
The most important part came last. She clutched the guitar pick, bringing it to her lips in thought while she considered what to do. Her personal opinion was that a witch who worked in fashion should never do so without a spell attached, but she wasn't sure which to pick. Luka didn't come off as someone reckless, so making it more durable seemed like a waste. Luck, meanwhile, was such a cliche spell to cast on anyone, not like she believed in such a thing in the first place.
She eyed him for ideas, from his highlights to his eyes and then to his body. As her gaze skimmed past his arm, the faint memory of him rubbing it earlier struck, and she almost felt stupid for not thinking of it before.
Giving the guitar pick a soft kiss, it lit up along the edges. While it was pure black before, her magic changed its border to a bright crimson, confirming that her spell had gone off without a hitch. She turned to tell Luka that it was a success, though she paused when she noticed that the tip of his tail was flicking back and forth.
I thought he said that it only did that when he was really focused on something? she wondered, but didn't catch onto the implications.
After looking over the enchanted accessory one last time, she offered it to him with a smile. "Here! Just like that!"
Luka took a moment to reply, as if her magic had rubbed off on him and put him in a trance. Snapping back to focus, he tore his gaze from her to stare at the necklace. "That—that was incredible, Marinette!"
"Y-you really think so?"
"Yeah. You even copied my tail onto the string; I still have no idea how you did it or what spell that was. I felt inspired just watching you work."
She blushed at the heavy praise, replying defensively, "You haven't even tried it on yet!"
"Oh, then please..." he said easily, not wasting another second.
She thought he would just take it from her, but he leaned closer and bent his head down patiently. Whether it was a naga thing or he somehow felt wrong touching it himself, she wasn't sure, but she went along with it anyway. It almost felt like she was bestowing a medal of honor when she draped it over his head and let it drop.
Immediately, she saw Luka's body language change and asked, "How's it feel?"
"...Warm." He hesitated, putting a hand to his chest. He raised a brow in confusion, trying to find the right words. "I feel warm?"
"Yup! It's a spell for keeping you warm." She poked the guitar pick for emphasis. "I thought you looked a little cold earlier, so it seemed right."
He gaped at her, stunned. "You did that in just a few minutes? I have a couple of naga friends who hate being even a little cold. If you want any business, I'll put in a word for you."
She started to feel shy again. "I-it's not that big of a deal?" She waved him off. "It's more like a prototype. It won't protect you from being too hot, a-and it doesn't last forever."
She felt bitter at having to say it. Temperature-controlling charms had been one of her goals as a fashion-inclined witch, yet she still hadn't figured out a perfect solution to its limited nature.
"I don't think anyone would expect that," he argued, almost sounding offended on her behalf. "Even if it doesn't last, people could only wear it when they know they'll need it. That's not much different from wearing something until it's too worn out."
That's... not a bad point, she conceded, though not enough to verbalize it. She'd just never thought about it that way.
Luka held the guitar pick part of the necklace, bringing it closer to his face to admire it. "Why aren't things like this being sold everywhere?"
Marinette shrugged. "I mean, I did come up with some of those spells myself, but maybe witches just aren't interested in using their talents for fashion? It's not exactly as flashy as making things disappear or lighting things on fire with the flick of a wrist. "
He shook his head, adamant in his position. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."
His gaze was a little intense; he meant it. She tipped her head purposefully to have an excuse to adjust her hat, not sure how to handle compliments from someone who - as she was quickly noticing - was quite handsome.
"...O-oh! Um—" She fumbled to shift the conversation away from her. Pointing hurriedly at the necklace, she explained, "A-about the spell: I said it doesn't last forever, but it doesn't need recast or anything. The enchantment on it will stay, but once it runs out of power you'll need to get someone else with magic to recharge it." Then, she blurted out thoughtlessly, "Or I could?"
She managed to suppress the scream she nearly let out, leaving it to bounce and echo in her mind while Luka could only stare in silence. She'd never cast a curse in her life - only considered it in a few dark fantasies involving people who'd bullied her - but she might've cast a curse to remove her voice if she could go back to a few seconds ago. She'd just met this boy, and she was talking as if they were ever going to see each other again.
...Well, in retrospect it wasn't impossible; actually, it was very likely. If he continued working at the cafe and she continued to visit, they would inevitably continue seeing each other. One could even make the argument that she'd become the most convenient person to recharge the enchantment then.
It didn't make her any less embarrassed though.
Looking for a diversion (a successful one this time), Marinette turned her attention to his guitar. Gesturing wildly at it, she clarified, "B-but only if you play for me! You said you would!"
He didn't say explicitly that he would, but she hoped he wouldn't remember that detail.
"...Alright," Luka replied, as if everything she'd just said and done wasn't entirely ridiculous. He even grinned wider and repeated it. "Alright. I'll play for you whenever you want."
"Oka—whenever I want?" She blinked at him, thinking that he might've slipped up as well, but he was already focusing on getting his guitar in place.
No more words were spoken as he began to play, Marinette's thoughts of how fast she'd have to be to outrun a naga left behind to listen to him. As she'd imagined, he was really good, his music feeling like it was coming straight from his heart and into hers.
Now that she'd calmed down from her little outburst, she found her fingers twitching, either to adjust one of her spells or simply to start drawing new designs. She'd stumbled her way into agreeing to meet with him again, and even if her way of going about it wasn't ideal, she'd wanted it.
As she continued to listen, his words echoed in her head, "I felt inspired just watching you work," and she pondered if this was the result of his inspiration. Thinking about it, she'd never got to make anything in front of someone before, nor come up with something new on the spot.
Perhaps they'd inspired each other then, even without meaning to, and she silently hoped that they could continue to do so.
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#Witch Marinette Dupain-Cheng#Naga Luka Couffaine
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Marinette was an extremely simple person, or at least that was how Juleka saw it. It wasn't a bad thing, but she was an open book in every aspect of life. If she was feeling an emotion, you knew, and if she was crushing on someone, you knew. She couldn't keep a secret to save her life and every thought burst forth from her chest like it was a—
...well, like something Juleka saw in a horror movie once but wouldn't repeat to Marinette, lest the girl get nauseous at the imagery. The point was that Marinette was simply Marinette and anyone who knew her for more than a few days knew exactly who she was.
That was why Juleka didn't think anything when she caught Luka and Marinette together. It'd been another day at the Liberty and she was heading below deck when she caught sight of them.
Luka was lounging at the edge of the couch, one hand behind his head and the other tapping a melody on the couch. That was normal when he wanted to relax rather than play, but Marinette had her sketchbook on his chest and was lounging on his stomach. Her elbows were on the couch at his sides, keeping herself propped up while she sketched.
Maybe they didn't feel like sitting but still wanted to talk face-to-face, or Luka was just a better table than the one they did have? Juleka couldn't imagine it was comfortable, and Marinette even occasionally rolled over to put her back to Luka's stomach, raising the sketchbook up to talk to him about whatever she'd drawn. He looked on, nodding along and saying things Juleka couldn't hear.
She got what she came down for, somehow without being noticed, and decided that there wasn't any need to think about the relationship the two had. If there was anything between Marinette and Luka, Marinette wouldn't have been able to stop talking about it to her and the girls later. She had one, singular reaction to dealing with a crush - or dealing with anything, really - which was flustered panic.
The thought didn't stop her from regretting that she'd yet to try the position with Rose.
——
From what Juleka had understood, Marinette's guitar lessons with Luka had gone well. She came over every now and then for a lesson, then left an hour or so later. Juleka herself had never seen any of their lessons before, but Luka was on deck with her one day when Marinette arrived. It was a gorgeous, sunny day that made Juleka want to flee below deck, but she was still waiting for Rose to arrive.
She also wasn't paying much attention to what Luka and Marinette were saying until partway through.
"What if we did it without the guitar this time?" Marinette asked, gesturing to the instrument in question.
Luka glanced down at his guitar, then at her. Smiling, he set it off to the side, welcoming her right into his lap like she belonged there.
She stretched an arm out, seeming to imitate the guitar's neck. "Is this how it feels to be your guitar?"
"I don't know." He hummed, amusement in his voice. His left hand settled somewhere between her chest and stomach while his other went up to grip her outstretched hand. "How would I play you?"
She leaned her back against him, genuinely thinking that over. Squinting in displeasure, she wondered, "Do I have to sing? I didn't practice."
Their idle banter(?) continued from there while Juleka stared unblinkingly at them. Of course, she'd seen Marinette sandwiched between Luka and his guitar before, but never on his lap and having forgone the guitar entirely. It was also just occurring to Juleka that Luka had never interacted with a girl like this, nor had Marinette with a boy. Marinette had girl friends and then a handful of guys who were technically friends despite her not really hanging out with them.
But maybe that was it. Juleka simply wasn't used to seeing Luka have one-on-one time with a girl who was a friend, same as seeing Marinette have one-on-one time with a boy who was a friend. It was a simple answer to a simple question, and besides that, Luka would've told her had something been going on.
Then, Rose finally strolled onto the Liberty, ignoring Luka and Marinette entirely to plop down onto Juleka's lap. She opened her scrapbook excitedly, drawing Juleka's attention with a point of her finger as she started showing off her recent additions to it. "Look! I found this one when we were little and it was so cute that I just had to put it here!"
Hm.
——
It wasn't long before Juleka caught them again, though "caught" was perhaps a strong word when they didn't seem to be trying to hide anything. She'd just been going below deck to retrieve some of her make-up from her side of the room, but she already heard their voices before she entered.
"No way!" Marinette burst out, sounding a mixture of surprised and entertained. "They just—broke it? In front of everyone?"
"Mhm~" Luka chuckled, an exaggeratedly sad melody following. "It wasn't the kind they wanted."
"Ugh." She scoffed. "Creative people are so dramatic."
They laughed just as Juleka peeked into the room to look at them. Marinette was sitting up on Luka's bed, back facing the flower-patterned curtain, whereas Luka was laying down the length of the bed, head resting on Marinette's lap and his guitar on his stomach. A bowl of chips was nearby, Marinette picking one up to offer to Luka.
"You don't need to feed me," he told her, even though he opened his mouth anyway to accept.
Her fingers brushed his lips as she dropped the chip inside. "Then you wouldn't be able to touch your guitar."
He played a happy note in response, too busy chewing to thank her verbally.
"Well?" she prompted eagerly, her bouncing in place limited only by him on her lap. "Tell me the rest! What happened next?"
Juleka turned away, having already forgotten what she'd gone there for. Had she wanted to join in, she could've chimed in to finish the story herself or walked by and casually added the next part.
Though, that would've required her to know the rest of the story. Luka hadn't told her anything about it and, in retrospect, he never really talked about what went on with him at all. It wasn't that Juleka was never curious, she'd just never asked.
Luka was her brother and the older twin between the two of them. They were two sides of the same quiet coin, Juleka rarely speaking out because she was afraid to and Luka because he only talked when he felt he needed to. He never asked for anything, always helped the moment it was requested of him, and was more of a listener than a talker.
There was only one exception for Juleka where she really felt like she could open up without fear.
"Hey, you're back!" Rose sat up with a start on the two-seater, gaze diverted away from her phone as Juleka came back into her view. She waved rapidly, phone pressed against her chest and beckoning Juleka closer with her mere presence.
"Mm, I'm back," Juleka confirmed, sitting down next to her. "What were you looking at?"
"You're gonna love it!" Rose squealed, squishing herself against Juleka's side as she presented the phone to her. She tapped on the screen, showing that she was on a local jewelry store's website. The site had been opened to a particular page, showing off a bracelet, and Rose was ecstatic to explain, "We could get matching bracelets! See? It's got little roses and jewels!" Facing Juleka, Rose pointed to herself to say, "rose," then pointed at Juleka and enunciated, "and jewel-eka! Isn't it perfect?!"
"Rad." Juleka beamed at her, thoroughly charmed. It was still hard to show affection in public, but whenever it was just her and Rose, she felt all of her walls drop like they were in their own little world. Chloe always referred to her as the "creepy, quiet girl" as an insult, and while part of her kind of liked the title, it still hurt, and couldn't blame other people for seeing her as such. Her brother would probably describe it as something like, "It's hard to get your audience to hear the song in your heart over everyone else's, but if you're playing to someone who wants to listen, they'll hear every beat of it."
Juleka froze, a lightbulb going off in her head. ...Oh.
"Juuuuleka?" Rose frowned, waving her hand in front of Juleka's face. Once she had her attention back, she added apologetically, "I know the jewels aren't black. M-maybe we can paint them!" Then, she deflated, realizing, "I guess they wouldn't be sparkly anymore, but... glitter!" She perked back up. "We can use glitter!"
Juleka hummed, wrapping her arms around Rose and pulling her into a cuddle without prompting. "Sounds cool."
Rose gasped, kicking her legs out in excitement. "I told you you'd like it!"
She turned to squeeze Juleka back, blatantly unaware of the thoughts in her head. Juleka was content with that, knowing that Rose would be there whether she wanted to talk about it or not.
Maybe Marinette wasn't as simple as she thought after all.
Maybe Luka had more to say, but hadn't found the right person to listen to him until now.
And maybe their relationship wasn't anyone's business except their own.
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#bonus Julerose
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
Marinette inspected her various flowers one more time. Even as a florist, she probably put too much focus on checking and rechecking her garden, but she adored the process or making things look beautiful. It wasn't dissimilar to her fashion hobby in how it took effort but paid off in the end as long as one knew what they were doing.
Satisfied with her work, she left the greenhouse area and went to the front of the store behind the counter. Placing her hands on the edge, she arched her back, taking a deep breath to inhale the pleasant scent of flowers permeating her whole shop. She was fairly certain the scent had even overpowered her perfume, making her wonder if it was worth using in the first place.
As she was steeping a cup of tea to prepare for another day of work, the bell at her door chimed to indicate that someone had come in. She looked up, wearing her usual smile specifically for customers, but it faltered when she took in the customer in question.
It was a young man, sporting black hair that turned blue at the tips. The hair alone wasn't strange - either people had it naturally or others dyed theirs to imitate it - but it was that he had flowers in it with no sign of what was attaching them.
Marinette knew her flowers as well as her fashion enough to tell that they were not only real flowers, but they didn't seem attached by any sort of hair clip. In fact, she'd never even heard of anyone using real flowers as a form of fashion statement unless it was extremely temporary, whereas the mystery man walked like he was used to it.
"Hi," he greeted casually, stepping up to the counter.
She snapped out of her stunned state, just enough to reply, "O-oh! Hello! How can I help you?" She pointed, giggling sheepishly and adding, "N-normally, I'd ask what kind of flowers you want, but I think you have enough!"
She'd said it to distract from her being distracted, but winced when she considered that it could come off as an insult. Luckily, the man took it in stride, even letting out a chuckle.
"I do, but I'm still here to talk about flowers." He put a hand on the counter and leaned against it, running his fingers through his hair with his other hand.
Marinette watched in silent awe at how his touch didn't disturb the flowers at all. She kept waiting for them to fall out, but they truly seemed stuck there. She could only nod, curious about what he was going to talk about.
"I'll get to the chorus right away," he began. "My family's descended from flower nymphs. The genes aren't that strong, so they might skip a few generations, but some of us wind up with..." He gestured to his hair for emphasis.
She'd heard of flower nymphs before, but never actually met one. Anyone outside the realm of "normal humans" tended to have their own places to go, simply because they preferred living in different areas or having different lives, but she supposed that anyone who only had a few traits passed down could live a "normal" life amongst other non-magical humans.
"S-so those are real?" she asked, then corrected since she'd already known that, "I mean, they're a part of you?"
"Yeah."
Unconsciously, Marinette reached up, almost needing to see for herself. Her fingers slipped into his hair and through the lavender flowers growing out of it. The feeling wasn't unlike normal hair, though somewhat damp as if it had almost finished drying from a shower. She suspected that the flowers still needed moisture in the way that they did from soil.
As she felt, she noted a sensation under her hand and froze. In real time, she saw a bud form between her middle and ring fingers, blooming into what she recognized as a violet. Her lips parted in amazement and she looked down at the man's face, wondering if he'd done it on purpose.
What she ended up seeing instead was a hint of a blush on his face, his gaze averted to the wall. Her eyes darted from the violet, to his face, and then back to the violet again, somewhere in her mind registering shyness.
She pulled her hand back, blushing deeper as what she'd done registered. The experience had reminded her that flower meanings didn't merely come from nowhere - they were often based on whatever flower nymphs were feeling in the moment of growing whichever flower - but she'd also just embarrassed herself and invaded his personal space, so it wasn't ideal.
"S-sorry." She looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. "I get kind of excited when it comes to this stuff."
"It's alright." He cleared his throat, the smile in his voice returning. "My sister already told me what you'd be like, and I don't mind."
"Your sister?" She peeked at him, mulling over who he could possibly be talking about.
He placed a hand to his chest, explaining, "I'm Luka. Luka Couffaine."
"Couf—ah!" Recognition hit immediately, Marinette smacking the counter with a hand. Pointing at him, she blurted out in surprise, "You're Juleka's older brother!"
He beamed, nodding to confirm. She'd heard about him quite a few times, but had never gotten the chance to properly meet him. Juleka herself had also conveniently left out the whole, "by the way, my brother grows flowers out of his hair," thing. The worst part was that she couldn't be sure if Juleka had left it out innocently, perhaps from having grown up with and thus no longer having thought anything about it, or if it was out of a mischievous sense of humor.
She could believe either, but perhaps it was her own fault. While Luka looked nothing like Juleka in terms of physical traits, they had similar ways of dressing. It was almost strange on him with the combination of torn clothing and jewelry, yet paired with a calm expression and a built-in flower crown, but she didn't dislike it.
Luka, apparently having already recovered from the event, tapped an idle melody on the counter and continued, "She told me you used to help her with her hair. I wanted to ask if you could help me too."
Marinette eyed his hair again, but focused on its length this time. It wasn't long by any means, unlike Juleka's.
"I know it's not much to work with," he clarified, "but people get uncomfortable around me when they see these grow." He tugged gently at the petals of the violet. "I can't cover them with a hat or I get uncomfortable, so I thought I could get an expert to take care of it."
She put her hands to her chest, horrified by the mere thought. "You want me to cut off your flowers? That's crazy! People are stupid for being uncomfortable over something like that!"
Even though she'd said it, she couldn't say she was surprised either. In all aspects, she was a "normal" human without an ounce of magic, yet people had looked at her funny ever since she was a kid.
"Thanks." Luka grinned at her, though added in a semi-teasing tone, "I could've guessed that you liked them, but it's still nice hearing you say it."
Marinette blushed, pouting at him, but it was hard to complain about him taking her touches in stride. Maybe he even approved somehow, and she hadn't just ruined the first impression she'd given to her friend's older brother.
He raised his hands up in a show of peace. "Sorry. I don't want to say anything to make you uneasy, or make you do anything you don't want to. Cutting my flowers can stop any more from growing for a while, but if you could figure out a way to hide them instead, that'd work too."
She pressed her lips together, considering the suggestion. Of course, she had so much more to ask him - "Could you get overwatered? Can you swim without worrying about that?" "Do you like to relax in the sun? Maybe you could tell me if my flowers like the greenhouse." "Has anyone ever tried to pick flowers off you before? Or have you ever picked petals off yourself to make decisions?" - but she knew she could ask those sorts of things if they ever got closer.
It only occurred to her then that she hadn't yet said anything about his request. Straightening up, she gave him a reassuring smile and replied, "I'd love to help you if I can. Maybe you can visit after closing time and we can talk a little more?"
"I'd love that." A hint of tension released from his shoulders as he exhaled. Reaching a hand out to shake on the agreement, he admitted, "Honestly, I'm happy. You're one of the only ones I've met who actually likes these."
"One of?" she echoed, not hesitating to accept the handshake.
"Bees."
"Oh." She wasn't sure whether to snort in amusement or be concerned, but he at least seemed casual about it. Would the honey taste like the actual flowers they come from, or would he have his own brand? What would Luka-brand honey even taste like?
"I really want to know what you're thinking about right now," Luka confessed, curious yet respectful, "but we can talk about it later if you want."
"Ah—okay!" Right, they were still mid-handshake and she'd just zoned out in the middle of it. No doubt he could tell that she was thinking about him.
She hurried to let go, certain that however long she'd been in her own head had been too long, but was met with resistance. She raised a brow at him, puzzled, and noticed his free hand going up to his hair. It was hard to see from the angle, but she noticed a white flower bloom, then detach from his hair. She'd presumed that he couldn't pluck the flowers himself or he wouldn't be here, yet there must've been some rule the flowers adhered to in order to come off painlessly.
Just another on the list of questions she wanted to ask him.
Luka smiled softly, breaking the handshake itself but still keeping hold of her hand. With his other hand, he settled the white flower inside and closed her fingers around it.
"It was nice meeting you, Marinette," he uttered, the warmth of his hands leaving her as he pulled back. With one last, fleeting look at her, he turned away and exited the building, his form disappearing as he headed down the sidewalk.
Marinette blinked, still standing stupidly in place. She'd could count on one hand how many flowers males and females alike had given her over her life, regardless of their meanings, but it was the first time someone had given her one they had literally grown themself.
Staring down at her hand, she uncurled her fingers to reveal the mystery flower: a daisy. New beginnings, her brain provided, though one sip of her tea later, she was already second-guessing herself. Or... was it love?
She blushed, unsure but not daring to dwell further on it at risk of zoning out for her entire workday. Regardless of its meaning, she was looking forward to getting to know him and that was that.
Ending her thoughts on it for the time being, she brought the daisy up to her lips and whispered against the petals, "...Nice meeting you too, Luka."
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#((me with multiple demon!Luka stuff: ...))#((also me: okay but what about the flower boi Luka))
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
The back of the room was cold, but Marinette's face felt warm as she made eye contact with Luka, seeing him standing there on the stage and playing with the rest of Kitty Section. Her heart was pounding pleasantly rather than doing flips, like a massage for the inside of her body.
His confession was still playing in her head. She'd known guys who had liked her - though their crushes never lasted long - but Luka was different. She hadn't interacted much with the other boys, but Luka knew her. He'd seen her at her most embarrassing and somehow took it all in stride.
She never would've thought that he'd have feelings for her, which brought an entirely new context to their private moments together. She recalled him staring at her so lovingly when they were together and had just assumed that he was generally happy.
She felt a little silly thinking that now, and the rest of Kitty Section's performance was spent mulling over only one thing: what to do about it.
——
Marinette lingered behind after everything was over. Some of the workers began to clear out, some stayed behind to chat with Kitty Section, and Bob Roth was seething in a corner mulling over some papers with someone else.
She hadn't even realized that she was staring at Luka so intently, waiting for him to finish talking to everyone, until he looked over at her like he'd sensed it. She stiffened, but played it off with a shy wave, not wanting him to rush anything.
Despite that, Luka turned to the employee he was talking to, saying something she couldn't hear before walking away and heading in her direction.
Pouting, she insisted, "You could've finished."
"It wasn't anything important," he assured. "Besides, I'd rather listen to your song. Everyone else can wait."
Wow, she nearly said aloud, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She could only guess that he was riding an emotional high from managing to get the justice they wanted and getting to play on a stage with his friends, as he was more forward than usual.
Marinette was familiar with being flirted with, but only as Ladybug. This - this - was different. Luka meant it, and knowing he meant it made it extra charming. She almost had to feel her face to check for a mask, yet understood that he was simply talking to her.
To Marinette.
Fidgeting with her fingers, she stared at their shoes and explained, "It's nothing urgent. I just... didn't know how to talk to you alone?"
"Mm," Luka hummed in acknowledgment, the curiosity evident in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he suggested, "We can sneak out?"
"H-huh?" Just like that? She looked past him to his instrument, which was resting against a wall and in blatant view of everyone else. "What about your guitar?"
"Jule'll take care of it." He said it with the tone of someone who was owed many favors by their sibling.
"...Oh." Marinette giggled. "Okay then."
She went to head for the door, Luka following behind, but she only took a few steps before something occurred to her. She turned to look at him, lips pressing together in thought as she stole a glance at his hands.
Her fingers twitched. It should be alright, shouldn't it...?
Deciding that the simplest way of finding out would be to just do it, she reached out, grabbed his hand, and continued her walk to the door.
Her answer came in the form of his larger hand squeezing hers back.
——
Marinette brought Luka down the various halls of the TV studio, using her (admittedly mild) memory from traversing it as Ladybug to get to their destination. She had no idea whether or not Luka thought she knew where she was going, but he didn't say anything regardless and let himself be taken around.
Stopping at the door she'd been looking for, she knocked to ensure that there was no one inside, then opened it. She went in with Luka and turned to close the door behind them, but Luka had already gone to do it himself.
They exchanged smiles. As she'd thought, the dressing room she'd gone into as Ladybug did indeed provide the privacy she'd hoped for. It was so much quieter than everywhere else they'd walked past.
Granted, it may have been the atmosphere between them putting in the work.
"That was really sweet what you said back there," she told him, referring to his confession before he'd gone out to play.
Luka caught on well enough and shrugged, replying, "I only said what I was thinking."
"But that's amazing!" The idea that it was anything normal was ridiculous to her. "You always say what you think. Most people would be too embarrassed to say something like that to someone they love."
Luka loves me, her brain noted again at her own statement.
"I'm not embarrassed about how I feel about you," he stated shamelessly. "I could say what I think more if you want."
"I—" Marinette looked down at their hands - only now realizing that neither of them had let go - as an excuse not to look at his warm expression, turning his hand to stare at his nails as if his black nail polish was suddenly extremely interesting. It was a little overwhelming putting together his compliments with what she knew now, but when she thought about it, his current behavior made sense.
He confessed, she'd had yet to reject him, and she held his hand all the way down the multiple halls. Clearly, he could read the room, or at least read her. It shouldn't have been surprising given that he'd proven as much even when they first met, but it was unusual to have people like that in her life despite how many she'd befriended.
She could definitely get used to it.
"...I-I'd like that, actually," she admitted. Then, remembering the proverbial elephant in the room, she looked back up at him and asked, "You know what's going on between me and Adrien, right?"
He nodded.
She sighed, smiling despite her exasperation. "It's a whole lot of nothing."
"Oh." His surprise was obvious.
"Er, of course there was something," she corrected, waving her free hand dismissively, "but nothing ever really happened after that. We talked, but he doesn't notice me. Whenever I felt like I did anything good, it didn't actually do anything. The girls were always pushing for us to get together, but if it wasn't for them then I would've given up a long time ago. Even if I don't talk about him, everything else just... becomes about him, and I..."
"You're done," Luka finished.
"Mm." She nodded affirmatively. Pulling his hand up, she held it with her other hand as well and pulled it close to her chest. "No one said anything about him for the past two weeks. I could just focus on us—" She blushed. "—our video: your music and my designs. It was really nice... except for the whole you know."
"Yeah." He chuckled, equally amused by the contrast.
"What I'm trying to say is..." She took a breath to steel herself up. "I like you too, Luka, and I didn't want you to worry about—"
"I know," he cut in. "I believe you, Marinette. You don't have to explain yourself to me."
She was briefly thrown off by his interruption, but realized that he was trying to keep "that name" out of the conversation just as she'd said she liked. Suddenly, it was hard to even remember who they'd been talking about.
"So... you'll be my boyfriend then?" she asked hopefully, squeezing his hand. She supposed that the possibility existed that he could want to wait, or not be labeled for whatever reason. Considering how everyone would probably react, it wasn't unreasonable, though having a secret relationship with Luka was a secret she might've actually been okay keeping.
Luka opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was less words and more of a breathy noise. He hunched over, slapping his free hand over his mouth to suppress any further ones.
"Wha?!" she let out, alarmed. She released his other hand, flailing her arms and asking, "Did—did I say it weird? I could try again! I—"
He raised a hand to reassure her, needing a moment before rising back up. That was when she saw the uncontrollable smile on his face.
"Sorry," he said, delight overtaking his tone. "I got to play a song I made with the rest of the band, in costumes you made, and on live TV, but this is the happiest I've been all day."
"Luka!" She tried to pout with how he worried her for a moment, but her lips refused. She was just too happy to suppress the smile. "...Fine."
His brows quirked upwards in curiosity from the intentional vagueness.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, went to one of the apps, and set a timer for thirty minutes. Then, crossing the room to set it down somewhere, she went for the door next to lock it. Turning to Luka with a loving smile, she explained, "We probably have about half an hour before anyone wonders where we went."
He got the idea instantly, sharing her mischievous look not unlike when they thought to sneak into the TV studio together. Marinette almost instinctively put an ear to the door to see if the girls were somehow there to listen in, but she knew better by now when it came to her and Luka, so she rushed directly into his arms.
These moments were just for them.
#queuekanette#lukaneventte: No Context November#Flower Arrangement Shipping#Pro LukaMari#Lukanette#type: salt#episode: Silencer
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
Luka stopped his walk down the street as the pleasant scent of baked goods hit his nose. He tended to go all over Paris depending on his mood, simply to see if inspiration would strike, and while he'd only taken a trip down this particular road a few times, he knew that he'd never smelled any baked goods there before.
He looked up at the source, noting that there was a new bakery he hadn't seen before. He caught himself smiling at the cursive writing on the awning, reminded of how Marinette would always write that way when she wanted to be "fancy," even to the point of trying to learn how to write cursive back when they were little kids.
Of course, that naturally led him to want to buy something for her. If the bakery didn't have anything she liked then Juleka and Rose would never say "no" to sweets.
He approached and pushed the door open, hearing the bell above announce his presence. There wasn't anyone behind the counter, but he could see an oven open and someone partway inside, probably reaching for something.
"J-just a minute!"
Luka stiffened. The voice sounded off from inside the oven, but was no less recognizable to him. "Marinette?"
"Luka?! AH—!" She rose up quickly in her shock, hitting her head off the ceiling of the oven and letting out a pained hiss.
He rushed over immediately, pulling her out and touching the back of her head to check it. Luckily, it didn't seem serious and he couldn't feel any heat from the oven itself, so she hadn't just rammed her head directly into a hot surface.
"I-I was just checking to make sure there was enough room," she whined, peering up at him while he rubbed the spot that'd gotten hurt. "What are you doing here?"
"I was walking by," he replied. Frowning, he added, "I didn't know you worked in a bakery."
She averted her gaze, ashamed. It puzzled him, wondering why she would be so shy about this when they'd shared and done everything together growing up.
"Mmnn." Marinette toyed with her light blue apron, twisting the fabric in her hands. "I-I...I mean, I just bought it, and I wasn't sure if it would even work out, so—"
"You bought it?" Luka interrupted. Something occurring to him now that she'd said that, he started to scan the room, listening close to see if he could hear anyone else. Looking around the space he could see, there wasn't any sign of another employee working there. "Have you been doing this alone?"
She didn't answer at first, pouting and fidgeting with her apron further. Worrying that she might ruin the apron she'd clearly made herself, Luka reached out and took her hands, letting her fidget with him instead.
She sighed, gripping his hands back and running her thumbs across his fingers. "I didn't know anyone else I could trust? And you already have a job."
"I can quit," he said without missing a beat.
"N-no!" She threw her hands up in front of her, flailing. "I've always been dragging you along for whatever since the day we met! I didn't want to do it again!"
"Dragging me along for..." He trailed off, trying to summon any memories of such a thing. "Wasn't that what I was doing to you?"
"What?" She shook her head. "No. I love doing things with you."
"It's the same for me."
That had simply been their dynamic to him. Fashion was her favorite hobby, as music was for him, but neither were truly interested in making said passions a job. Whenever a new thing or opportunity arose for them to try something new, it was always together. It didn't matter what it was, one of them would bring it up and the other would follow along without a word.
Marinette, unsure of how else to take the admission from him, blushed and played with her bangs. "I...I didn't know what I could do for work, but then I started thinking about when we were kids. Since Papa and Maman had so many ingredients because of the bakery, we always snuck away with some so we could bake too."
Luka chuckled at the memory. His fondest was undoubtedly the time when they'd tried to make croissants; the edges of two of them had baked themselves together. They'd tried to be clever (as clever as kids could be) and called it a "ringssant," but pulling them apart to eat them had felt bittersweet. "We had to cover for each other and make sure we didn't have flour in our hair so we wouldn't get caught."
She giggled. "Yeah." She let out a breath, eyes softening in her reminiscence. "And I thought... if I got my own bakery, then at least I'd be doing something with a lot of good memories attached."
So she wanted to have a bakery because of him; because of their relationship. He started blushing himself, shoving his hands into his pockets while he thought that over. It wasn't just a whim or something she chose on the fly like all of their other temporary interests, but rather a job that she wanted to do that she associated with him.
He'd be kicking himself forever if he wasn't able to become a part of it.
"Do you have another apron?" When she simply blinked at him, he clarified, "I want to work here."
"But—!"She tightened her hands into fists, pouting. "You don't even know if you'd like it! It was just something we did when we were growing up!"
She made a fair enough point, but wasn't considering the bigger picture. Luka supposed that he'd never said it outright, so it was technically his own fault for not being clear.
He bent down to be level with her face, Marinette not moving a centimeter as he leaned in to place a familiar kiss on her cheek. She'd given her own to show affection, but he tended to use his to prove he was serious. Perhaps it was cheating, but he didn't care.
"It was never about what we did, Marinette," he told her as he straightened up again, "but I can wait if you don't have another apron ready."
She pursed her lips, blushing the cute shade of pink she always did when he kissed her cheek, then relented and turned away to head into the back of the bakery. He grinned in victory, walking a few steps away to lean against the counter while he waited.
To his complete lack of surprise, Marinette returned with another apron, this one pink with blue accents to complement her own. Luka had known her for more than long enough to know that she rarely made anything without giving it "a friend," as she used to say when they were younger. Her work often came in pairs because of it and they tended to have matching accessories - despite their differences in style - for the same reason.
He took a step away from the counter, then turned his back to her and raised his arms to get them away from his sides. He could hear the occasional mumble from her about how he might still regret this, but she didn't hesitate to lift the neck strap above his head and slip it onto him. Her hands brushed his sides as she took the waist ties and knotted them together at his back, but he was careful to hold still. It was casual enough for them that he didn't feel any need to be shy about it.
He wanted to spin around afterward to ask her how it looked on him, but two arms went around his waist before he could, Marinette's face pressing into his back as she hugged him from behind. The scent of pastries suddenly became unknown to him as her perfume overpowered his senses.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I felt awful not telling you, but after you got your own job I thought it was a sign that maybe we shouldn't do everything together anymore..."
Ah. So that was it. He wondered if it would be too much to admit that he did it because he wanted to be able to buy her gifts.
Almost unconsciously, he brought a hand up to rest on one of hers. While he couldn't see her well from his current position, he turned his head anyway to make sure she heard him as clearly as possible, assuring, "You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere."
She squeezed him tighter, as if ensuring that he couldn't even try to go back on the promise. He was fine with that, content to stand there in her arms until she felt at ease again.
She'd see soon enough, he was sure, that he wanted to stay with her just as much as she did with him.
80 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
erosyiren
ERO𝕊𝕐𝕀ℝ𝔼ℕ
sgvhs-blog
San Gabriel Valley Humane Society
drippinonabuffet
🌊Social media sensation☀️
carmenbrownsworld
Carmen Brown
miips
Miips