myazael

[myazael]

As Ladybug, Marinette wasn't sensitive to the cold, but she still shuddered as the sun made way for the moon. Patrol had been particularly exhausting this time around, but now she was free to sit atop the Eiffel Tower with her partner, Viperion, and stare down at the city below.

“Ugh!” She tipped her head back and groaned. “I'm gonna be feeling all that in the morning. You?”

He chuckled, massaging one of his shoulders. “Definitely. I hope you don't have anything important to do tomorrow.”

“Nothing physical,” she replied, grateful for that fact, ”but I can't wait to get home and relax.”

“Me too—” Viperion stopped short, covering his mouth with a hand as he stared off at the sky.

Ladybug squinted at him, concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I was supposed to get groceries today, but...”

“Patrol happened. Trust me, I get it.” Frowning, she asked, “So you don't have any food at home?”

“I have food,” he insisted, though in typical Viperion fashion of reassuring her first and thinking later. “...Fruit, vegetables...”

“That's not dinner,” she chided.

She considered for a moment that she was crossing a line, but they had always cared for each other. In-between fights, interviews, and all other matters, they asked vaguely about the other's personal lives, just deep enough to be considerate but not so much that they were giving away any important details that might reveal their identities. It was a vital part of bonding as a team, in their minds.

“...Listen,” she began, unable to let the matter go after he'd worked so hard alongside her that day, “what if you had dinner with me?”

He hummed, not entirely resistant to the idea but asking the obvious, “How are you going to do that without me knowing anything?”

She rubbed her cheek, thinking hard about it. She knew intuitively that it couldn't have been impossible to have dinner with him without risk involved, but leaving and then coming back with food seemed improper.

It did, however, give her a very funny mental image of her leaping across rooftops with a plate and silverware in her hands.

The biggest problem would be if they'd known each other in real life. Even disregarding her parents showing up to Viperion and Ladybug hanging out in her room, he'd be seeing where she lived and—

...Seeing.

“Ahah!” she exclaimed, grinning to herself as she grabbed the yoyo at her waist. She saw Viperion lean towards her curiously as she dug around inside the magical compartment, brushing aside object after object until she felt the one she wanted.

She made a mental note to talk to Tikki about the lack of advancement in something so magical, then managed to grab what she wanted and pulled it out: a long, red scarf.

She put her yoyo back, then grabbed both ends of the scarf and stretched it, staring at Viperion with purpose. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

—————

Carrying Viperion into the little studio of sorts was quite the task, but compared to dealing with whatever nonsense Hawk Moth threw their way, it was nothing. Closing the window behind her, she let Viperion down from her back and checked his face, reaching around to confirm that the knot on the scarf was still tight.

“How's it feel?”

“That's the third time you asked,” he noted with amusement. “It feels soft, and I can't see a thing.”

“Perfect!” She beamed. Extending a hand out to him, she offered, “Here, I'll lead you to the couch.

He reached out, missing on the first attempt, but she caught his hand and slowly took him across the floor, past the room they were in then into another.

“...It's quiet.” There was a hint of worry in his voice. “I hope you don't live alone.”

He was careful to phrase it as a statement rather than a question. Though they hadn't told each other personal details, it was obvious that they were both somewhere in their teens, too young to live on their own.

“Ahh, don't worry about it,” she responded easily. “Let's just call this the Ladybunker and leave it at that.”

It was the only real way she could describe it without outing herself. In reality, Jagged Stone had given her the space to work, far away from the bakery and most things that would serve as a distraction. At the time, she'd thought it was too generous a gift, but now she was feeling grateful for it.

Guiding Viperion to the couch, she gave him a second to bump it with his heel so he could gauge its position, then she helped him sit down. Trusting him, wholly and completely, she whispered, “Tikki, detransform me.”

She shut her eyes against the light, releasing Viperion's hand and taking a step back. When she was fully detransformed, Tikki was hovering in front of her, wide eyes swapping back and forth from her to Viperion.

“L-Ladybug! Why is he here?”

“I invited him here to eat. He's not going to look,” Marinette told her. “If you're worried, you can watch him.”

She didn't bother pointing out that it was showing a lack of trust to do so, knowing that Tikki already knew that.

Turning her attention back to Viperion, she wondered, “You're not going to be bored, are you? There's a TV if you...”

He shook his head. “I'll be alright. I can still help you too.” He reached behind him, retrieving the lyre at his back with a playful smile. “I'll set the mood for cooking.”

She snorted, but silently accepted the offer and turned around. She took one step, then a second step, but heard the plucking of a string on the second and another on the third.

He was playing a melody to her footsteps.

Stopping to face him, she pretended to glare even whilst failing to hold back her smile. He couldn't see it, but he smiled back, wholly aware of the reaction he was getting.

Rolling her eyes fondly, she departed for the kitchen and accepted the happy beats playing along to her walking. Tikki flew behind her at first, hesitated, then decided to stay somewhere between where Marinette and Viperion were, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Marinette took her time looking through each of the cupboards, knowing from the last time she was there that there'd be enough food for dinner yet unsure how of what to put together. She didn't consider herself a great cook, but she could certainly make something to satisfy a couple of teenagers whose meals consisted of cafeteria food and whatever they could manage to eat when they weren't busy doing hero work.

The ingredients available to her were mostly ones that wouldn't expire quickly, such as canned tomatoes instead of fresh, which was simply how it had to be when she couldn't guarantee when she'd have time to visit. Besides, fresh didn't always mean better, she reasoned like a poor college student in training.

She reached for a box of dried spaghetti noodles, then froze as something occurred to her. Turning her head to make sure her voice would project properly, she called out, “Viperion! Do you have any aller—“ She stopped short, debating if allergies would be too much information, then changed it to, “Is there anything you wouldn't want to eat?”

Rather than responding with words, the tune he'd been playing changed to something light, but lower-pitched than before. In other words, no.

Giggling to herself, she set the box of pasta on the counter and went about her search for sauce and anything else that might go well with it.

—————

Marinette honestly wouldn't have put it past her luck to somehow burn pasta of all things, yet getting the meal together went pleasantly well. Sure, she may have overshadowed the noodles with everything else she added to it - courtesy of a frozen bag of mixed vegetables, complete with onions and peppers - then oversauced the whole dish in a bit of miscalculation on her part, but it was far better than whatever Viperion would've had back at his house.

She thought better of only putting two plates together, remembering Tikki and pulling out a bowl to put some chocolate ice cream into. Despite being such a stickler for rules, Tikki was surprisingly easy to placate when sweets were involved.

Once she had the ice cream neatly scooped into the bowl, topped with a tiny spoon that even a kwami could manage, Marinette called Tikki out. Taking the two heaping plates of pasta in her arms, she passed by her kwami and headed back out to Viperion, safe in the knowledge that neither of them would be bothered by the world for a few precious minutes.

He was still playing his lyre, though only long enough to bring the music to a natural end. Directing his head towards the plates of food, he complimented, "It smells good."

"It helped that I only had to worry about the smell and taste," she said jokingly. "This could be the worst-looking dish you've ever had and you'll never know."

He put his lyre down, holding his hands out expectantly. "I'm sure it's not."

Slowly, she gave him the plate and sat next to him to get comfortable. While she couldn't tell him so, he was the first guest she'd ever brought there and she was glad it was him despite the invite having only been due to his lack of dinner. It was a shame, she felt, that they couldn't just do this all the time.

She was midway through her first bite of food when she noticed the inevitable issue Viperion was having. Basic awareness and feeling let him stab at the food, swirl the spaghetti using his fork, and lift it to his mouth, but it was uncertain from there. The food would bump just a little off from his lips, or one of the vegetables would fall off without him noticing, or he'd go in for another bite and get an awkward clink from the fork touching a bare part of the plate.

He didn't appear to mind, but it wouldn't be viable for the whole meal.

Setting her plate to her side, Marinette asked hesitantly, “Um... could I feed you?”

There was another clink, this time from his surprise at the sudden offer. He turned his head towards her and she could only imagine what the unseen part of his face must've looked like.

“You sure?”

All things considered, it was a promising reaction, as he didn't appear disgusted by the idea. She ran with it eagerly, replying, “Yeah! I invited you here, so it's my responsibility. What'll Paris think if they hear that the great hero Viperion kept dropping his food?”

His lips twitched into a smile at that. He gave in without any further argument, turning himself towards her and passing her his plate and fork. “Sorry I can't help with the dishes.”

She scoffed, “It's not that much. Now hush and open your mouth.”

He giggled, leaning in and obeying the playful order. Marinette fidgeted for a moment with his fork in her hand, noting that it was still warm from his touch, then twirled some spaghetti and made sure to get some of the other ingredients on top before raising it to his mouth.

A few noodles hung down from the fork, but it just made it all the easier for Viperion to tell when she'd gotten the food in his mouth. His lips clamped down, a soft “mm,” emanating from the back of his throat that she couldn't recall him making when he'd been feeding himself. She could feel the movement at the unseen end of the fork as took the food off of it with his tongue and teeth, even pulling back with a lick of his lips.

“It's really good,” he whispered. “You're a great cook.”

Marinette swallowed, suddenly realizing the kind of situation she was in. She'd genuinely invited him there as one partner-in-crime-fighting looking out for the other, but she hadn't known it would turn out to be so domestic. There they were, two teenagers all alone and having dinner that she made for them. Barring the makeshift blindfold and Viperion's bodysuit, it would've looked like a normal date between a couple.

“Ah... thanks,” she uttered. Part of her wanted to reject the compliment and point out all the obvious mistakes she'd made, but she couldn't bring herself to do it when he smiled at her like that.

This was dangerous, at least going off of what her heart was trying to communicate to her, but she was the one who'd offered to feed him, so she continued. It wasn't that she was unaware of how she felt about Viperion, but usually it could be ignored under the guise of worrying about akuma or looking out for danger on patrol. She didn't have any such excuse when they were having such a nice, quiet moment together.

A few minutes passed, Marinette swapping between feeding Viperion and feeding herself. She would've been perfectly willing to heat up her food later, but he'd insisted that she eat too, leading to her working out how to feed him with one hand and herself with the other. Most distracting of all was when she didn't swirl the spaghetti quite right and Viperion would slurp the loose-hanging noodles into his mouth with the rest of them.

It almost made it a relief when she looked down and saw that there wasn't any food left on his plate. She still had a couple bites' worth on her own, but they had fairly decisively finished having dinner together. Not wanting to delay him longer than needed since he was already done, she turned briefly to her plate to eat the remaining noodles, careful not to scarf them down or risk him hearing and gently scolding her for it.

As she stacked the plates and silverware on top of each other, she took one last glance at him, stopping short of heading off for the sink when she noticed a bit of sauce lingering on his face. It was right below his lips, just out of range for his tongue.

"Oh, you got..." She went to point, but remembered that he couldn't see and told him, "I'll get it."

She supposed she could've just went to grab a paper towel, tried to instruct him on the specific spot, or took his hand to show him physically where he needed to wipe away at, but she did none of those. Perhaps it was because she was already about to go back to the kitchen where she could've washed her hands, but she reached up to him, using the back of two bent fingers to wipe away the sauce on his face.

Unexpectedly, Viperion visibly froze, sucking in a breath and holding it in. Marinette pulled back, puzzled by the reaction, especially from someone who was typically so composed.

A few seconds passed before he let out the air in one exhale, the portion of his cheeks that she could see flushing a light pink. Faintly embarrassed, he said, "Sorry. I thought it was... something else."

Something else?

Marinette stared down at the sauce on her fingers, parsing together what he could've meant by that. She'd grant that he couldn't see, but all she'd done was touch near his lips to—

Ah.

She matched his blush, the mental image burning its way into her mind. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, thoughts racing to process that Viperion would even think about her kissing him. Did that mean it was something he would've considered, or hoped for?

“...You didn't pull away,” she noted, mostly to herself. She chewed at her bottom lip, debating on what she should do next. They were heroes, she reminded herself, but they were also teenagers and there was definitely something in the air that wasn't coming from just her.

Slowly, she leaned forward, placing a hand delicately on Viperion's shoulder and licking the sauce from her other before bringing her face a few inches in front of his. With her heart pounding in her ears, she experimentally let out a breath, ensuring he knew what was in front of him this time.

The reaction was immediate. Viperion's arm snagged her waist, Marinette gasping inaudibly as he pulled her in and took hold of her chin. She shuddered as his thumb brushed just underneath her lips, him gauging their exact position before tilting his head.

Then, he pulled her in and kissed her. She squeaked in delight, grabbing onto his other shoulder too and following his movements to bring her onto his lap without breaking the kiss. The hand behind her gently massaged her back, working at the knots that had accumulated over the course of patrol, and she repaid the favor by kneading his shoulders.

They might've spent longer tasting each other rather than her food, and she blushed at the loud clicking noise when they pulled apart, taking solace in that he had the exact same face as her. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

They didn't talk about what had happened for the time being, lost in thoughts of what ifs and what it meant for their partnership, but she secretly hoped that he might want to join her for dinner again.

Especially if there'd be another kiss for dessert.

[myazael]

"Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody. You've been the song stuck in my head since the day we first met."

Luka meant every word of it. He hadn't known Marinette for long but he knew people. Whether one called it intuition, a sixth sense, or nothing more than a "feeling," he didn't care. Marinette was a special girl and anyone who didn't know didn't understand her. It was the way she talked, the way she laughed, and even the way she was constantly stumbling over herself because she cared so much about others.

He felt it in her designs and had seen the process himself, how she would sit in the same spot for hours until someone snapped her out of it. He wore his Kitty Section costume proudly because of it and swore that it made him play better, just by having a piece of her with him.

That was all he needed, as far as he was concerned. Whether she loved him or not was irrelevant, and he only confessed at all in the first place because he wanted to alleviate whatever doubts she'd had. He was just happy to know her and to be called her friend.

She looked so beautiful against the colorful stage lights too. Had he not needed to leave, he might've told her so. He only hoped she wouldn't run off to let them take all the credit if there were any interviews afterward. She was just as big a part of the band as he was.

He smiled and released her shoulder, turning around to face the stage where he was set to play with the others. He took one step, two steps—

and then his wrist was snagged, pulling him back. He tried to keep his balance, especially as another hand grabbed at his jacket to bring him downwards. Everything was happening too fast, his vision only able to register the blur that was Marinette's face coming towards him.

Heat flooded his system as her lips came into contact with his skin, just to the side of his mouth. She'd kissed him on the cheek before, but that had come off entirely friendly as opposed to the one she'd given him now.

"Worse" still was that he knew she'd missed her intended target in her rush, which was definitely not his cheek.

It was over too soon, but he registered the voices behind him calling him to the stage as Marinette let him go and pulled away. Despite the bold move, she looked away sheepishly and cleared her throat, her blush obvious even in the lighting.

"U-um... good luck?" she said, giving him a fluttery wave.

His shoes felt like they were filled with very selective lead, keeping him firmly in place unless he was moving towards her specifically. Alas, his bandmates were still calling and not going would've ruined all the effort Marinette had put into getting them to this point.

Thus, he turned - for real this time - and went to set up with the others.

—————

Luka somehow managed to concentrate throughout the entire performance. The nice thing about his Kitty Section mask was that he could look around freely without being noticed, particularly at the siren of a girl standing in the background watching his every move. Her fingers were steepled in front of her mouth, making it hard to gauge her exact expression, but her eyes never left his.

Each note he played felt like a pleasant shock through his body, a positive feedback loop that kept going throughout the whole song. It'd happened before when he was in a good mood, playing his feelings through the strings, but not like this.

Not after being kissed by the one he was in love with, and not on a stage where the energy surrounding him was so high. Whenever he turned to the other bandmates, they were staring at him in bewilderment, but not in any bad way. He wasn't overshadowing them or throwing off the song, he was just more of what was already there, and the stage crew was getting into it.

It was fantastic.

By the time everything was over and the recording was done, there was nothing stopping him anymore. He wordlessly passed his guitar to a confused Rose, then walked off the stage, past the crew, and past a reporter who had snuck in and was asking him questions he didn't bother listening to. He pushed his mask up and took a straight path directly towards Marinette, who was bouncing from the thrill of the moment.

"That was incredible, Luka!" she squealed. "It sounded even better than in the video! People are going to love it, I—"

He grabbed her face and kissed her. It momentarily occurred to him that he could've said something romantic like, "I only played so well because you were there," which was true, but kissing her the way she'd tried to kiss him seemed like a far more appropriate response to what she'd done.

It felt equivalent to getting to play a song she'd written just for him, which was almost a shame. Had he known she could've made noises like she was just by him kissing her, he would've suggested a different type of song for the music video.

There was a shriek in the background that was probably Rose, which he paid no mind to. He broke the kiss, but remained hunched over to Marinette's level, still holding her blushing face and cherishing the warmth against his palms.

"Did you love it?" he asked quietly, stroking her cheeks. "That's all I care about."

Her voice had raised an octave when she replied, "O-of course? I said it was incredible! I love you—it! A lot!"

She managed to fit her hands between his, covering her face with an embarrassed whine. He sighed blissfully, dropping his hands to wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her shoulder.

"I can't believe you tried to kiss me," he began, then added even though he could've left it at that, "right before I had to go on stage."

"Sorry," came the muffled apology behind her hands, though he smirked when he caught the hint of not actually being sorry in her voice. She returned his embrace, squeezing and shaking a little as she whispered, "I should've done it sooner."

When Luka had thought just a few minutes ago that he would've been perfectly happy just getting to know Marinette and be her friend, he meant it, but he wasn't about to complain about being thrice as perfectly happy either.

[myazael]

[myazael]

Marinette took a breath, as well as her time, as she made sure that everything was correct. She'd looked up all available information that she could, wrote it all down multiple times to make sure she'd memorized it, and now it was just a matter of putting it to work.

Her knees began to hurt from kneeling on the hardwood for so long, but she persisted, wiping sweat from her forehead to keep it from dripping onto and potentially ruining her work. The chalk in her hand had been whittled down to a little nub, causing her knuckles to occasionally scrape against the living room floor as she drew with it, but she merely adjusted her grip and kept going.

She'd worked so hard for this. She couldn't delay it now.

When she finished, she took a step back to survey her work. Though the lights were off, the illumination from the candles provided more than enough for her to see what mattered; if anything, she added too many.

Nevertheless, the drawing on the floor matched what she'd put in her sketchpad, barring the excessive notes and instructions she'd written for herself.

It was ready.

Retrieving the slip of paper from her pocket, Marinette patted her chest, took a sip of water from the cup on the coffee table, and cleared her throat. The absolute, most embarrassing thing would be to do all of this and then mess up because she couldn't pronounce something properly.

With a quick tongue twister to ensure that her mouth was set for the task at hand, she finally looked down at the paper and read it aloud, that mess of letters and pronunciations that she wasn't sure she'd ever used in her life. Her notes helped, but she could hope that she got it right.

At first, nothing happened. Marinette stared down at her drawing, then at the candles that looked pretty but ultimately weren't doing anything. Her work suddenly appeared as a random impulse to draw on the floor and make it look spooky by using the candles.

Then, she felt a light breeze. The fire on the candles wavered, flowing outwards away from the center of her drawing. She took a cautious step closer, feeling the wind grow stronger to where the hair flowing over her shoulders was blown behind her, falling loosely along her back.

All at once, the fire on the candles were snuffed out, Marinette's breath catching as she watched it the flames appear in the center of her drawing. The colors flashed, from orange, to blue and then to pink, before the fire blazed outwards with a vengeance. Startled, she jumped back, swearing that she saw the embers touch her bangs, yet her hair seemed perfectly fine when she checked. It made sense coming from a magical fire, but she wasn't used to it.

She'd never tried summoning a demon before.

Sparks of light popped off from the ever-brightening fire, sounding like tiny fireworks amidst the hissing of the flames. She couldn't bring herself to look away for an instant, even when she had to squint against the light.

Faintly, she could spot a forming silhouette in the middle of the fire, but couldn't make out any definite shapes. It was only as it blazed upwards, all energy from her efforts coalescing into that one moment before bursting and burning itself out, that she could finally see the being it'd hidden.

Demon horns, sticking out amongst a mass of black hair that was blue at the tips. As if that weren't enough of a giveaway of the inhuman nature, the demon - notably male - had skin that was light blue and had notable ridges going along it, as well as blue eyes that glowed in the darkness of the room.

His eyes met hers. Marinette's heart pounded at her success, perfectly in tune with his footsteps as he approached her. Could he hear it?

"You summoned me," he stated, placing a clawed hand to his chest. In contrast to the hint of fangs that showed through, his smile was soft and polite. "How can I help you?"

She blinked, dropping the slip of paper she'd been holding, almost unable to believe that her plan had actually gone through without a hitch. With all of her bad luck, she half-expected to summon a dragon or giant or something and have to explain to everyone why her house was destroyed.

"O-oh!" She hadn't planned this far and hurried to formulate an introduction. Flailing, she babbled, "Yeah, yes, of course! Um, I'm Marinette, and I really could use your help!"

"Hi, Marinette," he greeted. "I'm Luka."

Luka. All things considered, it was a surprisingly human name, but she remained focused on the task at hand.

"Right. Well, see... the thing is—" She brought her fists up in determination. "I need someone to cuddle with."

A pause followed, only accompanied by a slow blink from Luka. His smile faltered, expression turning to confusion.

"...What?"

Marinette faltered as well, but for entirely different reasons. "You can't do that?"

"No—" He shook his head, the smile returning with amusement as he ran his claws along his shirt. "Sorry. No one's ever asked for that before. You surprised me."

"Oh." She sighed in relief.

"We can use magic for almost anything. Why do you think we wouldn't cuddle with someone?"

"Culture?" She shrugged. "I thought maybe demons would have rules or etiquette for this. Maybe it'd be weird to cuddle with a human or you'd be—I don't know." She waved off her own idea. "Allergic?"

He snorted, and didn't bother to hide it. "Thanks, but I'll be fine." He looked down at her summoning circle, asking, "Is that why you added more candles? To set the mood?"

She followed his gaze to the floor, able to see his tail now that the glow from his eyes was directed downwards. She wondered how it would feel, both having or touching one. "No. It just... didn't seem like enough? I thought, if I was going to summon a demon, they'd deserve more than what the instructions said."

She'd nearly run out of candles during the process, though it did make for a nice look when she added some tea candles around the taller ones. For a demon making an entrance, it seemed appropriate.

"They're scented," he added, crouching down to take a closer look. "Is that vanilla?"

With a flick of her wrist, she replied proudly, "That is to set the mood! I was trying to think of something soft, and maybe you don't have marshmallows where you're from but it's the perfect soft treat here!"

He hummed, grin widening the more she explained. Placing his hands on his knees, he pushed himself back up to his full height and turned to her. "Should we start then?"

Marinette bounced on her heels, positively thrilled. There was a voice in her head expressing concern over how she was so excited over things simply not going wrong, but she ignored it.

"Yeah! I already have something set up in the corner, ah—" She looked around, trying to spot it in the darkness, but couldn't. Turning back to Luka, she raised a finger towards him. "...Hold on!"

"Wait—"

Just as Marinette went to turn around, a hand caught her wrist. She stiffened, looking back at him worriedly. "What is it? Did you change your mind?"

"We should take care of this first."

He didn't elaborate on what he meant, but he wouldn't stop staring at her hand and she quickly realized why. There were some minor abrasions on her fingers from all the times her knuckles had brushed against the floor, as well as a small burn from when she'd rushed through baking that day so she could do all this sooner.

"It's not a big deal," she insisted, not used to such a reaction. Her friends always rolled their eyes at her clumsiness instead of fretting. "I get hurt all the time."

Luka didn't respond to that. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Eh?"

"That's where you keep your ointment and bandages, right?"

"Uh, yeah, but..." She trailed off, unsure of how to handle this. Didn't demons only ever care about doing what was asked of them, or was that a common stereotype? Would she be expected to pay him extra for this and, if so, how much? Half a soul? A quarter of a soul? How would one go about that?

Those were the thoughts bouncing around in her head as Luka took her across the room, hitting the light switch on the way. Though she hadn't given him any guidance, he smoothly navigated the hallway until he found the bathroom himself.

He had her sit on the bathroom countertop while he rummaged around the cupboards for the necessary supplies. She watched him in a mixture of awe and puzzlement, having apparently not been permitted to do anything, and her hand unconsciously rubbed where he'd grabbed her.

Though his skin had been rough, his grip hadn't been. She still thought he was overreacting, but when she saw the horns moving about just underneath the sink, she couldn't find it in herself to say it.

"Do you do this for everyone?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"It depends on the person," he replied, not looking up from the first aid he was sorting on the other side of the countertop.

What did that mean? That he only did it for clumsy people? For people he thought were worth it? Or...?

After washing her hand under water and drying it, he applied ointment that he managed not to puncture whilst squeezing the tube. His claws, as she soon noted, were also good for more than what one might imagine, as he was adept with handling the bandages thanks to his skin never coming into contact with the sticky side. His claws would handle it, reminding her vaguely of tweezers or a thread slipping smoothly through a needle.

Holding her hand to look it over, he asked, "Is it too tight?"

"Hm?" She blinked at him. "No, you're not even squeezing it."

He raised a brow at her, but smiled. "The bandaging."

"Ah—" She blushed, eyeing his work and flexing her fingers to test; anything to avoid eye contact in that moment. "Y-yeah, it's good. Comfy. Do you do this a lot?"

"I have a little sister," he explained. When he let go of her hand and turned, she thought he might not elaborate, but he added, "We got into a lot of trouble when we were kids and I'd take care of her."

It was odd hearing him so casually bring up a sister. If she'd closed her eyes, she could've pictured a human person standing in front of her instead of a demon. The thought of them having siblings hadn't even occurred to her.

And now she was learning that he's a big brother type. That was... cute, actually.

Hopping down from the countertop to follow him out of the bathroom, she frowned sympathetically. "I guess you got punished by your parents for it?"

He snickered. She didn't understand what could be so funny until he glanced over his shoulder at her and replied, "My mom was more trouble than the both of us, actually."

She gaped at him. There were so many implications to that and the curiosity was burning a hole in her brain. She only held back because they'd arrived at the living room where her little "cuddle area" awaited them.

It was simple, but with every effort made to get it looking comfortable. She'd used cushions, pillows, and the comfiest blankets she had to make a space in the corner that was in every way effective for a place to get snuggled. The scent of vanilla only added to the appeal.

"You went all out," Luka said with an impressed whistle. It sounded a bit like a songbird.

Standing straighter at the praise, Marinette puffed out her chest with pride. "The only way I can do things is to overdo them." Though, deflating slightly, she admitted, "But I didn't know what kind of fabric demons like."

"We're like humans," he answered simply, going up to the pile to feel one of the blankets. "We don't have one kind we like. We're all different."

Given what she'd known of him so far, that made sense. She had tried to research demon preferences but came up empty, so the obvious conclusion was that no one kept track because it wasn't consistent.

Though, she supposed she might also be giving the authors too much credit.

When she pulled herself out of her thoughts, Luka had already sat down on her comfy setup, his tail shifting behind him as he searched for the best place to lie down. He'd taken to it so easily that it was hard not to feel confident in it.

So much so that it looked even more inviting now than it was before he'd arrived.

Stepping up to the cuddle spot herself, she waited for Luka to make room before sitting down next to him. Everything had been freshly washed just before she'd set them out, so there was still the pleasant lingering scent of the dryer sheets as her weight sank into the cushions. She breathed it in, leaning back and pressing her hands into the fluff of the blankets.

"Do you want to lay on me?" Luka asked suddenly.

"What?" Marinette looked over, seeing him laying down comfortably on his back. The cushioning must've been enough that his tail wasn't bothered by it. "Ah."

She hadn't thought that far. The mission was getting a cuddle buddy, but...

"I've never cuddled anyone before," she admitted.

"Me neither," he replied, whether for reassurance or genuine honesty. Maybe both?

Regardless, he outstretched an arm to her in a silent offer for them to learn together. Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity and she nodded.

Laying down against his arm and bringing herself close, the arm soon wrapped around her. She was pulled to his chest, her hands grasping at his shirt before she realized that the cuddling could be mutual. Slowly, piecing the act together like a puzzle, she slipped her arms around him, her head against his chest as she hugged him. Neither of them may have known what they were doing, but she did feel comfortable.

She was surprised to feel the fast heartbeat in his chest, though there wasn't anything in her research that suggested it was abnormal. Maybe demons just had faster heartbeats?

"You're warm," she also noted, feeling the heat encompass her from both Luka and the blankets she'd laid out.

"Demons can change how cool or warm their body is when they need to," he explained, "just in case we get summoned somewhere really hot or cold."

She hummed as she processed that. Demons really seemed to have adapted well to their roles. "And... you said that you could use magic for almost anything? What can't you use it for?"

He needed a moment to think of how to answer her and she allowed it. In the meantime, she focused on the fabric of his shirt in her fingers - only limited by the bandages preventing the skin underneath from touching him - and his claws on her back, able to be felt but never getting caught in anything.

"We can't make people fall in love," Luka finally said. The tone implied there were more examples and he was merely giving one of the bigger ones. "We can help, but the rest is up to them."

Intrigued, she lifted her head to look at him. "Help how?"

"We can make a moment for whoever summons us and the person they want to fall for them; something that makes them curious and want to know more about them." With a grin, he added, "Like this."

She blinked at him. "This?"

"You summoned a demon. Most people do that for something extreme, but you wanted someone to cuddle. You could've gotten another human to do it instead, so of course I'm curious about you."

Curious? Marinette knew that she could act a little unorthodox, so it wasn't uncommon for her to be called odd or strange. By the time she'd become an adult, she'd accepted that part of herself despite being aware that people would still think of her as clumsy, rambling, bizarre Marinette. She could be overwhelming to others, causing difficulties making new friends, but she was content where she was.

Yet, this was the first moment she'd heard anyone be curious rather than weirded out. Was it because he was a demon? Were demons already different enough by default that they wouldn't consider her strange? Or was it just Luka?

Ducking her head, she toyed with the fabric at the back of Luka's shirt. He didn't even seem to mind. "My friends would've made fun of me if I tried to ask any of them, and finding another—uh, human to help was too awkward." She tried to shrug from her shrug-resistant position and felt that he got the gist of the gesture. "I thought that if I asked a demon, it'd be more in my control? And we probably wouldn't see each other again anyway if they rejected me."

"You wanted someone that badly," Luka mumbled, though strangely it sounded like he was talking more to himself than her. Was he sympathizing?

"Almost all of my friends are dating," she elaborated, as if she had to excuse her actions, "so I've seen them cuddling all the time. They always look so happy, and..." She sighed. "I wanted to know what it was like? I did have a boyfriend, but we never got that far before we broke up."

He might've been curious on the details of this 'boyfriend', but he didn't pry. "And? What do you think?"

What did she think? Marinette shifted, pulling herself further against him and focusing on the sensations: the fluff of the blanket against her skin, the body heat warming her, the bandages around her fingers that weren't too tight nor too loose, and the soft shirt under her palms. Squeezing him tighter, she turned her head and pressed her face against his rapid heartbeat to take in his scent. He didn't just feel warm, he smelled warm somehow, like how pastries smell just as they're being baked. That combined with the lingering scent of vanilla made her think of s'mores made over a fire.

"It's really nice. I've never been this relaxed before," she admitted, letting out a little noise of content when his arms squeezed her in return. "Definitely worth a soul."

Luka stiffened and she felt his chest suddenly rumble with a chuckle. She peered up at him, confused.

"I'm not taking your soul, Marinette," he told her. "Demons don't always ask for a soul as payment."

That solved the whole quarter or half of a soul thing she'd been wondering about, at least. "Then what do you want?"

He didn't answer for a moment, staring deeply into her eyes like he was searching for something, all while his hand slowly went up her back, a thumb roaming across one of her shoulder blades. She shuddered in delight.

"What if we do this again?" he eventually asked.

"This?" she repeated, though it hit her a second later. "You mean... cuddling? But that's what I asked you for?"

"And now I'm asking you back."

Blushing, she could only blurt out, "But why?"

He reminded her, "I already told you. I'm curious about you, so I want to do this more, if you'll let me."

He said it like it was really that simple. Marinette had only summoned him there with the intent of getting to feel what it was like to cuddle someone - to be held in someone's arms and hold them back - just once, but now he was offering to do it again, and maybe even more than that?

The answer was obvious, though she did pout and asked bluntly, "Do I have to draw that summoning circle every time?"

The lights were still on, his eyes still had a subtle glow to them, yet his grin was the brightest in the room. "No. Here, get up for a second."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, the two pulling away from each other to sit up. Given the slow speed at which he released her, she wondered if he was just as reluctant as her despite whatever plan he was brewing.

Hunching over and tilting his head down just slightly, Luka instructed, "Put your hands around my horns."

"Wh—is that really okay?"

Instead of answering, he reached out, rough skin brushing against soft as he took her hands in his. He guided them upwards, adjusting his grip to curl her fingers around his horns.

Marinette held her breath, keeping still just in case. She could feel the prominent ridges against her skin and, slowly, those ridges flashed blue. Her instinctive reaction was to pull away, but it didn't hurt, only tingled.

"There," he said, pulling back and out of her grasp. "I marked you."

Her mind went directly to, "Like a cat?"

He shook his head, though entertained by the idea. "No. Now you can call me whenever you want."

She stared down at her hands, turning them every which way, but couldn't see anything different. Luka held them in place to stop her, turning her palms so they were facing upwards.

"All you have to do is say my name and want to see me. Then I'll come to you," he explained.

Her hands really didn't look any different, but somehow, it sounded correct. Experimentally, she called out, "Luka?"

She nearly jumped at the reaction, her hands flashing in a set of parallel lines that matched the ridges of his horns.

Luka's own ridges flashed in kind, and he beamed. "Yeah, like that."

He looked so thrilled that it had worked. Marinette thought that maybe it was because he didn't think it would until the actual conditions of the enchantment registered with her: she had to want to see him, meaning that every time she successfully called him to her - and even now when he was already there with her - she was admitting to wanting him near her.

And that, apparently, made him very happy.

She blushed, imagining that her heartrate was similar to the one she'd heard from him just minutes ago. Did she really just make a cuddle pact with a demon?

Was she going to be alright?

[myazael]

[myazael]

Biker AU. Chapter 3. Part 8.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Bonus | Part 8 | Part 9

[myazael]

Ladybug stood on a rooftop, dazed, staring up as the magical ladybugs flew up into the sky and dispersed into nothingness. It hadn't even been a year, yet she'd lost track of all the akuma she'd found.

All the time she'd lost.

Dropping her gaze to the roof under her feet, she wondered how many times she'd jumped across it. The rooftops of Paris had all blended together in her mind, which had long since stopped seeing them as buildings or shops so much as something to step across to get wherever she needed to go, or an object to throw her yoyo at to swing somewhere.

Down below, a crowd was cheering for her and Chat Noir. Their faces were hard to see with her vision occasionally blurring, but she felt they were grateful, at least, and the distance was the only reason why no one saw the tiredness in her eyes. Chat Noir, though he stood right there next to her, was simply too busy putting on a good smile to the cameras to see the way she swayed like she was about to fall over.

That's what she told herself, anyway. Besides, heroes didn't get tired, they didn't need breaks, and they certainly didn't demand sympathy from those around them. They were meant to serve as a higher being, perfect in the eyes of the public.

That was all.

As Ladybug raised a hand to give a smile and wave with energy she didn't have, a group of screams rang out.

"Oh no, i-it's another akuma!"

"Quick, everybody, run!"

"M'lady, look out!"

Everything happened so fast. It was hard to catch up and understand where the horror was directed to, but she turned around under the assumption of a sneak attack. Chat's hand came into contact with her shoulder at the same time, the motion of which indicated that he was about to shove her out of the way.

Instead, she saw a flash of teal and Chat was catapulted back onto one of the rooftops a few buildings away. She couldn't even call out his name before something thick and smooth wrapped around her and brought her to the ground, the air leaving her lungs from the shock. She looked down, noting the snake-like scales, and wriggled, but the grip was tight enough that it was hard to get her arms out.

Strangely, it wasn't so tight that it hurt. Maybe there was an opening somewhere?

"Ha." A smooth, strangely mellow voice spoke, preceding a few delicate, harp-like notes. "That joke Hawk Moth made it too easy."

Twisting her head any which way she could to see the source, Ladybug looked up to see the start of the snake tail she was wrapped in, connected to a seemingly male human body like naga in mythology. The boy - not looking that much older than her - wore a bodysuit matching his snake tail, transitioning so smoothly that it was hard to tell where the torso ended and the tail began. Darker teal lines snaked - quite appropriate given the theming - up his arms, all the way to the hood on his head.

The hood cast a shadow over his face, but she could still see the teal mask, the lower corners jutting down sharply into points to imitate fangs. Had she not been in the process of being restrained by him at the time, she may have complimented his style.

A lyre was clutched in one of his hands, explaining the music she'd heard earlier, and he played a few more notes over the cries of the few people who remained below. "You can call me Hoodstrum. I seek the most valuable things in the world and have had my sights set on this beautiful bug for a while now."

"Get in line!" Chat yelled out from afar. "That's my partner you're taking!"

Ladybug rolled her eyes, genuinely unable to tell if this was more about her being kidnapped or two boys fighting over a girl. "This is not the time, Chat Noir!"

Hoodstrum clicked his tongue, unimpressed by Chat's retort, then raised his free hand behind him in a fist. Slowly, his fingers curled open, and with them what Ladybug could only describe as the fabric of dimensions. A portal was opening at his command, more than large enough for the two of them and shaped like a snake's mouth opening wide. She couldn't see what awaited on the other side either, only colors zipping from side-to-side like lightning bolts.

Were they going to hurt?

"They always say that you don't know what you have 'til it's gone." Plucking one string at a time in a slow, taunting motion, Hoodstrum continued, "But don't worry. I'll be sure to put her in a nice little terrarium."

Chat called out for her again, followed by the sound of his boots against the rooftops, but it was too late. Ladybug felt the tail tighten briefly before throwing her, her world spinning as her surroundings blurred into nothing discernible. The sounds of Chat Noir, the crowd, and Paris itself faded in an instant and she braced for impact, her body curling in on itself to protect anything vital from the rough landing.

Only then to feel the impact against something marshmallow soft and pillow-y.

"Uh—?" Ladybug's body unconsciously relaxed at the unexpected sensation, then tensed again when she recognized what must be a trap. The ground below her would be unstable and hard to move around on, giving Hoodstrum the advantage as he floated above it.

Pushing herself up and fighting against the struggle for balance, her fists flew up into her fighting stance. Her eyes searched viciously for any sort of advantages she could have in this boy's lair, such as a defensive spot under the coffee table, the TV to smash over his head, the fridge in the other room to....

wait.

Ladybug blinked, staring at the weirdly normal living room she was in. The floor was a smooth, gray vinyl and the walls were black, curving into an equally black ceiling. The TV stand housed a couple of well taken care of gaming systems, and the coffee table had a deck of cards stacked neatly atop it. There was an opening with an arc shape in one of the walls leading into the kitchen, an electric kettle on the counter emitting steam and even a clear jar of sweets nearby.

Also, was that a bean bag chair near the couch?

She couldn't see any sign of a front door, but there was a hallway that she could only guess led to a bathroom and bedroom or something similar. Point being, this was not a lair, and certainly not a terrarium in the sinister way Hoodstrum had spoken it. Under her feet as well, there was no deception or trap to be caught in, but actual pillows that she'd landed on.

She had to admit at that point that she was officially, utterly confused.

At that moment, Hoodstrum's voice called out from behind her, "I'm glad I aimed right. I would've felt terrible if I missed the pillows."

Ladybug spun around to face him, but stumbled on the uneven surface. That one was her own fault and she went for the obvious solution of stepping outside of the "pillow zone" while Hoodstrum casually slithered past her, the portal behind him long gone. She watched, waiting for him to suddenly turn and pounce at her, yet he laid himself on the couch instead, looking totally vulnerable to any and all attacks.

"Um," Ladybug began, raising a hand to point around the room, "am I missing something?"

He tossed her a smile, stretching his arms before propping himself back up into a sitting position. The long snake tail made it awkward, but he didn't appear bothered by it. "Sorry. This is my first time doing this for someone."

The phrase 'doing this for someone' implied that it was to her own benefit, only making her more confused.

He explained before she could ask any further, "I'm not a villain. I'm part of a group against the Order of the Guardians."

"The Order of the Guardians?" she asked warily. "But how aren't you a villain then?"

He leaned against the backrest, unbothered by the half-accusation. "We don't want to harm anyone; they do. Before the accident, they took kids in even if those kids didn't want it, and starved them as part of their training."

Ladybug bit her lower lip, already eerily familiar with that story. That's what Master Fu had gone through before Feast happened.

Hoodstrum, staring at her with a wealth of emotional intelligence, seemed to know that she understood that already. "They wiped themselves out because they didn't care about anything but their rules. The first one of us knew that and ran away with some of their miraculouses."

At that, her gaze dropped, scanning his body over to search for something she hadn't thought to before. On his wrist, she noted, was a bangle designed like an ouroboros. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"You're learning the notes fast," he complimented with a nod. He raised his arm out to her in a silent offer, adding, "The snake was one of the ones they got away with."

Though still hesitant, she couldn't detect anything suspicious in his posture. One step at a time, she slowly made her way towards the couch until she was within arm's length of him. Taking hold of his forearm and hand, she examined the supposed snake miraculous in question.

It was bizarre. In her limited experience with the miraculouses Master Fu had, it definitely looked like a miraculous: it was an accessory to wear and his bodysuit had remnants of what she might expect, but something wasn't quite right. While the design of the miraculouses was done who knows how long ago, Hoodstrum's appeared modern as if made recently, or perhaps refurbished.

Looking upon her thoughtful expression approvingly, he told her, "I don't know everything, but the miraculouses they stole got taken all over to other people; people who could make them better with the times." He glanced down at it. "Think of it like a record of an old song compared to the music we have now. It's always changing, and we're finding new ways to play and record it."

"So that's why you have other powers," Ladybug deduced, recalling the portal he had opened. She wanted to leave it there, but the nagging voice in the back of her head refused to let go of the scale-covered elephant in the room. "...But the tail? And fangs?"

He grinned, inadvertently showing off the fangs in question. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, steadying breath...

and started to detransform.

She yelped, recoiling from the bright light. Her calves bumped into the coffee table, but she remained standing and instinctively covered her eyes in thought of seeing someone's civilian identity.

She could hear Hoodstrum chuckle, but a different voice was the one who spoke up. "It's fine to look, Ladybug. My holder trusts you."

"N-nggh, but why?" she whined from behind her hands.

She got no answer, but the permission had made her too curious. She lowered her hands first, then opened one eye at a time until she could fully take him in. Rather than the half-human, half-snake she had seen earlier, Hoodstrum looked entirely normal, if a little bit punk. His black pants were torn at the knees, under his denim jacket was a thick midnight blue hoodie - the hood of which had been put down to reveal fluffy black hair with blue highlights - and his white shirt had rips as well as—

"Is that Jagged Stone?" she blurted out, staring at the logo across the chest of the shirt.

"Yeah," he admitted, "he's my favorite singer."

"Mine t—" She clammed up, remembering that she wasn't Marinette right now. Hoodstrum had such a calm, amicable tone when speaking that it felt like talking with a friend rather than a stranger. Was this somehow part of catching her off-guard?

The voice from earlier, as she soon discovered, belonged to a snake-looking kwami flying beside him. He chimed into the conversation, explaining, "Gaining our features are a side-effect of the modern miraculouses. They might be inconvenient for our holders, but it's the price they're willing to pay for our will."

"Will?" Ladybug repeated for clarification.

Hoodstrum raised his wrist again, showing the disguised form of the miraculous. "I can't transform if Sass doesn't want to."

Sass crossed his legs, his long tail curling around them. "The modern miraculouses keep us from being used without our consent, or if we think it might put our holder in danger. It gives us more power in the bond we share and our holders are happy to take the consequence of that."

It was a lot of information at once, but she tried to follow as best as she could. The idea that kwamis weren't slaves to whoever had their hands on their miraculouses sounded almost fantastical, making her think of poor Nooroo under Hawk Moth. "You didn't have to detransform to prove that though."

"I know," Hoodstrum said. He got up from the couch to stand in front of her, gesturing to himself. "But I want to earn your trust if I can, so you don't feel uncomfortable here."

"Here?" Ladybug took another look around, reminded of the situation that led them to this moment, and raised a finger. "Wait, yeah! Why am I here? Where is here? And I thought you kidnapped me!"

He shook his head. "I'll take you back whenever you want. This—" He outstretched an arm to the rest of the room. "—is for you, and anyone like you."

She brought a hand to her mouth, brows drawn together in thought. "I don't get it."

Sass flew up, lounging lazily on Hoodstrum's shoulder, and "pointed" at her with his paw. "You're exhausted. That much is obvious in everything we saw."

Her eyes widened. They noticed? Had it been that obvious to these two that didn't know her? "That...that's normal."

"It's not," Hoodstrum argued with a frown. "Whoever your guardian is, he chose a cat who loves the job. He could've done the same for your miraculous too."

Sass clicked his tongue in a way not unlike what Hoodstrum had done towards Chat. "That's typical of guardians: never ask, just choose."

Ladybug swallowed, wanting to defend Master Fu but unable to. It was true, she hadn't wanted to be Ladybug, and in fact had to when the holder she had intended to replace herself with got trapped behind a car. There were so many times that she thought about giving up or lamented how overwhelmed it made her feel, but she hadn't wanted to question a decision made by someone who seemed so much older and wiser than her.

"So you brought only me here because of that," she concluded, "but... to do what?"

Hoodstrum and Sass exchanged glances that were a mix between concerned and amused, as if the answer were obvious and it was worrying that she didn't understand.

Simultaneously, they looked at her and simply said, "To rest."

"R—" She would have staggered back if the coffee table wasn't in the way, so she opted to wave her arms about in disbelief. "Rest? What? That's it?"

Hoodstrum turned away, moving to walk around the room. Sass remained hovering where he'd been, observing Hoodstrum's movements alongside Ladybug.

"I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I was still learning how to use my miraculous." He knelt down to the TV stand, feeling around for dust. He only stood back up when he was satisfied it was clean. "This place hasn't been needed in so long too. Me and my family tried to update it to make you comfortable, but it took a while."

Sass cleared his throat, Ladybug turning to him as he added on, "You could call this a pocket dimension inside our world. Here, time moves at one-sixth the speed as it does outside. Luka is hoping to make it better than that one day."

Ladybug almost didn't register that Sass had just used Hoodstrum's civilian name, her mind whirling thinking about the massive time bomb that had just dropped on her. One-sixth of the time meant that one hour in Paris was six hours here, and one day was six days, yet Luka didn't think that was good enough? That was already so much!

Even the idea of it being a pocket dimension, she could tell it was the truth. When she listened closely, she couldn't hear a thing that she wasn't aware of in the room: no birds chirping, no cars driving by, and no people chatting idly. Only the sound of her own breathing and Luka's footsteps filled the space.

It was just the three of them - four if one counted her growing disbelief at this point - all by themselves.

Luka continued the mini tour of the space as if none of this was particularly amazing; to him, who had experience preparing all this in the first place, maybe it wasn't. He wandered into the kitchen next, opening one of the cupboards to reveal a whole variety of tiny snack bags in just about any color she could imagine.

"I don't know what kind of food you like," he began, opening the fridge with his other hand to show her the fruits, milk, and such, "so we got whatever we could. I can give the rest to my friends, so you don't have to eat all of it."

Ladybug couldn't say anything, at a complete loss for words. Not moving her eyes from Luka, she went around the coffee table to follow him into the kitchen. Tearing her eyes from him to look at the food - the food for her - was difficult, because she didn't understand even after having it all explained to her.

It wasn't him alone who'd done all this, as he'd openly said, but he'd taken on the primary role. He brought her here, blindly trusted her to the point of letting her know his civilian identity, and for what? So she could rest?

Why?

"That act you put on..." she started to say, because she was certain now that it was an act.

"I needed a way to talk to you without accidentally seeing your identity," he confirmed. Looking off to the side, not wholly innocently, he admitted, "And I meant what I said about value: maybe they'll learn to care about you if they think they could've lost you."

"They care," she claimed weakly; an instinctive defense of the people she worked hard to protect.

She felt a small breeze to her side, Sass flying past her and into the fridge. He pulled a single hard-boiled egg from inside, then shut the door with his tail and flew over next to Luka. Taking a big bite of the egg's top, he almost looked like someone with a giant egg-shaped glass of alcohol.

"Ladybug," he said with patience she suddenly felt she didn't deserve, "We've seen the Face-to-Face interview."

She cringed at the memory instantly, her cheeks growing pink from embarrassment. Of course she recalled that: the interview with Nadja Chamack where she and the audience seemed to care for nothing more than whether Ladybug and Chat Noir were dating. Any time she tried to change the subject or tell the truth, she would be ignored or shot down.

Even Chat himself brushed it off as the price of being a star. Maybe then, the people did care, but only so far as to whether she could save them and get together with who they wanted her to.

She just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

Luka, meanwhile, had been ready for it. He'd made himself their bad guy so that he could offer her this. Guilt tore at her stomach, telling her how much she didn't deserve this.

"I...I have school," she tried.

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Luka supplied easily.

"My parents will wonder where I am."

"You can tell them you're staying with a friend."

"If Hawk Moth attacks while I'm here..."

"We can still get alerts. You'll know."

They really planned it all out. They had an answer for all of her questions and, as she'd already calculated earlier, she'd have six whole days to do whatever she wished even if she stayed there just for one Sunday. It was as Luka said: this was for her.

"...What's the catch?"

Luka smiled sadly at her, at the idea that they would require some sort of payment. There's a three step distance between the two of them and he closes that gap by two, his hands taking hold of hers and squeezing them reassuringly. It hadn't even occurred to her that he hadn't touched her until now, beyond what it took to bring her here. He'd let her get closer to touch him, but it was only when he felt she needed it that he gave it to her.

"No catch. We just want you to enjoy yourself. I'll give you my number and you can call me on your yoyo whenever you want me to bring you here. If you want to quit being Ladybug, we'll help you do that too, but you can still come." He squeezed her hands once more. "I saw you, I wanted to help you, it's that simple. It's not a favor, it's a reward."

She looked up at him. She'd noticed, but hadn't really thought about the fact, that his eyes had been green as Hoodstrum. When he was Luka, they were instead a deep, soothing blue.

She liked the blue, even more than the green.

Staring down at the hands holding hers, Ladybug curled her fingers inwards to squeeze him back. Unable to make excuses to get out of relaxing any longer - a thought she knew should give her much to self-reflect on in her future - she gave in and wondered aloud, "Can we do stuff together too?"

Luka beamed, more than happy to do just that.

[myazael]

[myazael]

the chapter is out now!! only one left🤭

[myazael]

Luka loved Marinette. He loved her so much and still felt like he hadn't fully expressed it no matter how many years passed. It wasn't for lack of trying - words, songs, gestures, he'd done it all - but simply that there may've been no way to convey it under human limitations.

Thus, he accepted that he could only love her as much as he could. He courted her, dated her, and married her, all in the hopes that she might understand one day.

He even loved her in his dreams.

It wasn't as good as having the real deal, but he knew her body well enough that it almost felt real. When she'd push him down on the bed, he could imagine the plush surface and scent of the freshly washed sheets.

She'd lean down for a kiss, her flavored lip balm rubbing off on him. He'd long since foregone wearing it himself since they got together, knowing that it would always end up on his lips anyway.

Dream Marinette had the exact accurate amount of freckles going across her nose. He knew because he'd counted them before on days where they had nothing to do and he'd taken to watching her sleep the morning away. Stroking her face, her skin wasn't perfectly smooth either, having been neglected skincare on days where she was too busy to think about it.

He'd pull the dream Marinette down to kiss her nose, her forehead, her cheek, and anywhere else he could. Mutual kissing was his personal favorite, but it was just as important to him that every precious centimeter of her body receive attention from him.

She loved to be praised, to be told that she mattered and that she was doing great where she was. He'd say as much in-between the soft gasps in reaction to her breath against his skin or her fingers playing with his hair. During warmer nights where she'd wear shorts instead of pants, her leg had a chance of nudging his shirt up just enough during their movements that he could feel her skin against his side.

She was the one who made his pajama tops for him in the first place, actually. He found that it all depended on her mood, as sometimes she would gift him shirts with pointless buttons, shirts with strings, or shirts with cuts low enough that she could kiss his chest.

Always with purpose, of course, whether that be to play idly with the little additions or tease him. He'd watch, mesmerized by the movements even if they didn't appear like anything special; she was special to him.

She designed her own pajamas as well and liked the buttons the most. It let him technically remove it even if she was laying on the bed, but was a task that took time. She loved the attention and he loved giving her that attention, so he would hold off for the perfect moment.

When it came time to play his own part in their duet, they would switch spots, Marinette letting out an excited squeal as he flipped them over. Her hair was just long enough that it could get trapped underneath her back, creating potential problems if she turned or tilted her head. Just in case, he took the extra time to check, gently tugging the hair out and letting it spread out gorgeously over the bed.

She'd exhale against his hair when he kissed her collarbone, nails grazing his back as she grasped his shirt in her hands. When her pulse quickened, he'd nestle his face against her neck, feeling and estimating the BPM of her pulse so long as he could distinguish it from his own.

He was a simple man. He too loved to be praised and told that he mattered, but his favorite sound was her name rolling off his tongue. She knew it too, her blue eyes in that blissful contradiction of innocence and mischievousness as she called his name, over and over.

It was as if she was beckoning him closer, reminding him with her tone that he was hers, or merely liking how it sounded out of her mouth. He loved it all the same.

Depending on how much skin she was showing that night, he could see the little marks she'd accumulated over the course of her life: a scar on her shoulder from when she was a child, another near her ribcage, and multiple similar-looking ones at her hip that she promised to tell him about one day when she stopped being embarrassed by the memory.

He was fine with that. In his mind, it was just another thing to look forward to learning about his wife.

Sometimes, the marks would be something more temporary, like a slight redness to her leg when she bumped it against the table that morning, which he would be careful not to accidentally irritate. It gave him the perfect excuse to treat her just a little differently than usual, keeping her guessing as to what he might do next.

She had a particular noise she made whenever he slipped his hand under her shirt. If his hand was colder that night, it'd be a shuddery whine, but if it was warmer, then she'd let out a pleased hum. He always made sure to touch the scar at her ribcage, cherishing it even if he couldn't see it at the time.

When her grip on his shirt tightened, he knew what to prepare for and moved back appropriately as she pulled it off of him. It was a bittersweet feeling, seeing her so carelessly toss her work that he loved so much to the side, yet knowing that it meant she could freely touch more of his skin. Whether he had a "conventionally perfect male body" or not, her fingertips traced over the lines of it in such a way that he felt like, in her eyes, he did.

They caressed the other's body, they kissed, they hugged and cuddled each other. Before long, neither were below or atop the other anymore, or at the very least it was hard to keep track.

And then, not long after that, he'd wake up, the sun from the window shining against his back. Marinette would consistently be in his arms, face buried in his chest whether he had a shirt on or not, using him as her shield against the unfairly early morning.

"I had a dream about us," he'd say if she was awake, eager to spill the details.

Every time, she'd playfully admonish him, giggling and hitting his chest. "We're married! You see me every day!"

He'd chuckle, squeezing her tighter and telling her, almost like a promise, "Not enough."

Thus, the cycle would continue. Perhaps it did seem silly to others that he would seek to please her in the realm of his own dreams, but it was all he had left that he felt he could do.

He was thankful that her time as Ladybug had long since passed, and long enough to where she didn't tense up when she got an alert on her phone. The normal girl with the normal life who actually was anything but that, was now an extraordinary woman with a (relatively) normal life.

However, that didn't give her back the time she'd lost saving Paris, nor time she felt had been wasted that they could've spent together. He'd told her repeatedly that he didn't blame her and that all that mattered to him was the time she chose to spend with him now, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wish that he could allow her that time back.

Despite that, he could still dream and tell her about it. He could practice pampering her in his mind to then follow up on in reality, trying to make up for the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years that they could've had. He just needed her to know that, whether awake or asleep, he thought of her, and not even the time they "lost" would give him enough to express that.

But he could try.

[myazael]

[myazael]

"I sent you a twenty-page document on Jagged's requests. You can't tell me you didn't get it," Penny told the person on the phone. Putting her free hand over the lower half of it to keep them from hearing her, she glanced over her shoulder at Marinette on the couch and said, "I'm sorry. We'll talk about designs as soon as I'm done."

Marinette waved away the concern, understanding the struggle of changed plans. She'd already gathered enough information based on the call they'd had inviting her to their hotel room that she could stay occupied by doing some experimental sketches anyway.

However, realizing how much she may have underestimated the time she was going to spend there, she set her sketchpad aside and pulled out her phone. Navigating to her text conversation with Luka, she typed out a couple messages to update him on what was going on.

Got stuck here a little longer. Penny seems swamped. We could do this any other time, so I'm surprised she didn't send me home yet.

She got a reply less than a minute later.

I'm not. Everyone loves you and wants your talent, Marinette. They're probably making sure no one else can steal you away.

She shook her head in disbelief at such a bold statement, but smiled. Luka was never afraid to say exactly what was on his mind and, while she didn't agree with him, it did make her happy.

She was about to message him back when she caught movement out of the corner of her vision. She looked past her phone to check, nearly screaming when she saw Jagged's face mere inches away from her.

"W-what?!" she asked, stiff. "What's wrong? Did I zone out?!"

"You were smiling," he stated.

"I'm sorry! I'll stop smiling!"

He snorted, then plopped down next to her on the couch, resting both arms along the backrest. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with smiling! A rock star's smile is one of their best assets!" He smirked for emphasis. "But you looked like you were texting your boyfriend."

"H-huh?"

He tilted his head. "Girlfriend?"

"No! I was texting Luka!"

"So his name's Luka!" Jagged brightened, leaning in with interest. "What's he into besides you?"

"Besides—" Marinette choked. "No, h-he's a musician? He plays guitar!"

"Guitar!" he exclaimed, and which was clearly the only word he'd heard. He jumped to his feet, strolling over to Penny and wrapping an arm around her. "Hear that? Our frockstar's got herself a rock star boyfriend!"

Penny ignored him briefly to talk into the phone, "If you can't take the requests, you can always find a different number one music star to book your venue," then covered the lower half again to address Marinette. "Congratulations."

"But—!"

"I told you," Jagged boasted, though to no one in particular, "our designer deserves the best and has the best taste!"

—————

Luka was on his way home when he heard a familiar sound of pounding footsteps behind him. Stopping in place, he turned to look at the source, bracing himself as Marinette practically plowed into him.

It would've been delightful had she not looked so distressed.

"Luka, I'm so sorry!" she burst, gripping his sleeves. "I swear I'll make it up to you!"

"Easy, Marinette," he soothed, taking her wrists and gently pulling her hands away. "What happened?"

"Nggh." She pouted, then hung her head in shame and replied, "Jagged Stone thinks we're dating."

That—

...huh.

He kept on a poker face, not wanting to freak her out further with his potential reaction. Something must've happened to make Jagged think that they were dating, and while he recalled sending Marinette an affectionate text earlier, that alone shouldn't have been enough to make any assumptions.

Did that mean that it was something Marinette did? And it had been convincing evidence for someone to think they were dating? Granted, Jagged Stone wasn't known for being a perceptive guy and Luka was content with the friendship he had with her. He hadn't confessed for that very reason, but—

Oh, she was still talking.

"Sorry," he interrupted, having caught none of it, "what were you saying?"

She rubbed an arm, embarrassed, her hand slipping under her sleeve to rub at her shoulder. "I...I was asking if we could pretend to date? He seemed so happy for me and I didn't want to disappoint him and neither of us are dating anyone—but if you're uncomfortable or you already like someone then I'll think of something else!"

Huh.

On one hand, it was charming in a way how much she wanted to please everyone, if a bit concerning, but he didn't miss the amusement of her talking about him "already liking someone" when she was the one he liked. Perhaps ironically, he might've even agreed to the proposa—suggestion if it hadn't been for that fact. He simply didn't have it in him to date her if it wasn't real.

"...I can't," he admitted reluctantly, as tempting as it might've been to say otherwise. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he frowned and explained, "It's not your fault, Marinette, and I'm not uncomfortable. I just couldn't fake date you."

She pursed her lips, disappointed but not upset with him. He looked away, feeling bad anyway but not so much to where it'd change his stance; it wouldn't be right. He would, however, be willing to help break the news to Jagged to make it a little easier for her, especially if his text was at all responsible for what happened.

The silence started to drag on. Luka debated on breaking it by asking her if she wanted to go somewhere or do something, but hesitated when he considered that it might seem insensitive after having just rejected her.

"Ah, then—!" Marinette, surprisingly, spoke up first, stepping forward and clutching Luka's forearms to get his attention back. "Then we'll real date! That's okay, right?"

His mouth fell open without a sound.

"I'm okay with it, and I'll take really good care of you! I've already been all over Paris, so I know all the best date spots, and I could always ask my parents where they like to go if we run out of ideas! So..."

She trailed off, the situation slowly dawning on the both of them. Luka's mind was still stuck somewhere at "I'm okay with it" and was making unsteady progress to get past it. The thought that the whole fake dating may have been a substitute for what she felt was the most she could get out of their relationship was something that'd have to come later.

Marinette's fingers twitched against his skin, then pulled away as her face flushed red. She couldn't look at him anymore, but her eyes were unable to decide on anything interesting enough to focus on. One foot shifted against the ground, and he realized what it meant before anything actually happened.

"Wait."

He reached out to grab her wrist, but it was too late. Marinette turned and bolted, leading into a full-on chase as he ran after her. If he'd had his bike then he could've caught up to her easily, but as things were, he was just barely keeping pace with her.

The problem was that he wasn't really a runner, and he knew without having seen it himself that Marinette had all sorts of experiences getting away from awkward situations or going somewhere in a hurry. Out of all the people he'd ever met that he could've fallen in love with...

She sped down the sidewalk, nearly bumping into someone on the way, then turned a corner. Luka followed, smoothly slipping past the same someone, but his eyes never left his destination. As he took the same bend that Marinette did, he caught sight of her just as she ducked between two buildings.

He hurried to go after her, only to find when he reached the alley that she'd seemingly disappeared. He looked left, right, then around the sidewalk he'd stood on in case his eyes had played a trick on him, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

A noise from somewhere up on the rooftops caught his attention. He stepped back as far as he could without tripping onto the road, eyes scanning the sky just in time to catch Ladybug throwing her yoyo out and swinging off into the distance.

Face slightly flushed, not entirely from the exertion, Luka snorted and put a hand to his mouth, his other hand feeling the phone in his pocket. He resolved to talk to her later when they both had cooled off, but it didn't stop the song that desperately wanted to be sung playing up a storm in his chest.

That's cheating, Marinette, he thought affectionately.

[myazael]

[myazael]

"I'm sorry," Marinette mumbled, her grip on his shoulders tensing.

Luka shook his head, trying to reassure her, "It's not your fault. We don't have to kiss if you're not ready."

"But I am! It's just..." She sighed.

Ever since they'd started dating, there had been problems with kissing each other. He understood that they both wanted it even if Marinette had some struggles with it, and he was more than willing to be patient about it. He was just worried.

Marinette opened her mouth, then grit her teeth, hesitating over something. Still unwilling to move from his lap that she'd climbed onto to kiss him in the first place, she let go of his shoulders and clenched her fists atop them so she wasn't squeezing him.

"You don't have to tell me," he told her.

"I want to." She averted her gaze, blushing in shame as she pointed out, "And you already know most of it. Everyone does."

"Most of... ah."

He suspected for a while, but didn't want to assume. Paris was utterly obsessed with Ladybug and whatever she did, so they made a big deal over everything, especially when it concerned romance.

"All the kisses I've ever had or tried to have ended up a disaster," she muttered, running her fingers along the seam of his hoodie. "It's always because of a misunderstanding, or getting interrupted, or something I can't even remember, or being really embarrassing."

He couldn't see exactly what was going on in her head, but her face said it all. She just wanted to enjoy herself kissing him, but she was traumatized on some level and it held her back from doing so.

Hoping to help her work through it, he asked, "What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know?" She pouted. "It'll go wrong, or an akuma's going to happen, or you won't like it..."

"I don't have any expectations." He rubbed her sides in slow, easy circles. "I just want to kiss my girlfriend. It doesn't have to be perfect. We can always try again if something happens."

She scratched her cheek shyly, then let out a heavy sigh and fell to the side. Rolling to lie on her back, her legs still rested on Luka's lap as she lamented, "I'm sorry—again. It feels like I'm always behind everyone else."

There was nothing wrong with that, and he would've told her as much if he wasn't certain that she didn't want to hear it. If he thought it would've helped, he would've pointed out how unfair it was for her to expect herself to keep up with other people who didn't have to constantly worry about being woken up in the middle of the night because of the dumbest reasons imaginable, all whilst being expected to smile and be a hero without negative emotions.

But it wouldn't help, and he supposed it was time for him to be honest as well.

"You're not the only one," he began, running a hand slowly across one of her legs, "who feels behind."

"Huh?" She pushed herself up just enough with her elbows to comfortably look at him. "You—wait, you?"

He nodded. "Jule started dating before I did. I know she met Rose before I met you, but she never thought about our dad the way I did."

Frowning, Marinette sat up, bringing her legs off Luka's lap and closer to herself. She leaned forward, gripping his arm and asking, "You mean... how he wasn't around?"

"How him and Mom got far enough to have me and Jule, but still ended up leaving each other." He looked at her, eyes flicking up and down her body. "Some people are fine playing solos, but if I play a duet, I want to keep it going. I don't want to push my partner too hard or scare them off."

He still recalled the day they'd met, where he'd upset her and genuinely worried that he'd ruined a chance at a good relationship. He hadn't foreseen falling quite so hard afterwards, but still, he'd been fearful of everything crumbling over a bad first impression.

Thankfully, it worked out in the end, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Luka," she uttered softly, the hand gripping his arm sliding around so she could hug it instead. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You're not going to scare me off."

He returned the lean, letting out a breath that may've been a little relieved. "And I'm not going to get upset because you need time to move past all the horrible memories you have."

She gave his arm a squeeze in wordless thanks. He adored the overthinking, rambling, and energetic Marinette just as much as all the other Marinette, but there was something special to him about the moments of calm that only he seemed able to provide. Maybe it was selfish in a way, but it made him happy seeing that he had something of value to offer her.

Marinette's fingers loosened against his arm. She was briefly lost in thought, staring off at nothing as she wondered aloud, "Does everything you said mean you think I'm the one?"

He briefly stiffened. It made sense that she would deduce that much, but he hoped it wouldn't make her uncomfortable. "...Yeah."

Rather than pulling away from him, she squished herself closer to him, one hand still holding his arm while the other rested on his thigh. "Good. I want a spring wedding."

His head swerved to look at her, stunned. She'd thought that far ahead? When?!

"You like wearing too many layers for summer, but too many rips for fall or winter." She toyed idly with the rips on his shirt. "I know having the rips sounds weird for a groom's outfit, but I was thinking that I could do something wi—!"

Her last word turned into a squeal as he freed the arm she'd been hugging so he could pull her back up onto his lap. He hugged her tight, burying his face in her shoulder and sighing happily. When Marinette (eventually) regained her bearings, she giggled and lovingly stroked his hair.

They could wait until the wedding for their first kiss for all he cared. All that mattered then was being able to simply have each other.

[myazael]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Apollo/Percy Jackson, Apollo/Hyacinthus (Past), Percy Jackson/Hyacinthus (one-sided), Apollo & Artemis (Percy Jackson), Artemis & Percy Jackson, Thalia Grace & Percy Jackson Characters: Percy Jackson, Apollo (Percy Jackson), Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Hyacinthus (mentioned) - Character, Artemis (Percy Jackson), Thalia Grace (Percy Jackson), Grover Underwood, Zoë Nightshade (Percy Jackson), Bianca di Angelo, Nico di Angelo, Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), Luke Castellan, Hermes (Percy Jackson), Poseidon (Percy Jackson) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Female Percy Jackson, Moral Ambiguity, Age Difference, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Obsession, Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, The dark tags are not between perpollo, Percy has a crush on a historical figure, Simp Apollo (Percy Jackson), Possessive Behavior Summary:

It’s a feat, Percy thinks, to be so obviously a warrior yet be remembered because of how much someone loved you

Or how Percy, months before she has to face the Titans and her own death, found a way to live forever

Chapter 2 is out. Today is Apollo’s pov

[myazael]

Marinette held the butterfly miraculous up towards the ceiling, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully. It was amazing, really, how harmless it looked, yet it'd been so disastrous in the wrong hands. She felt lucky that she got it back before anything seriously bad happened, like Hawk Moth - Gabriel Agreste - finding Master Fu and getting his hands on the Miracle Box.

Nooroo hovered nearby, saying for what must've been the tenth time now, "Thank you so much for saving me, Ladybug, really."

"You can just call me Marinette," she assured, as being called by her hero name was too formal for her tastes. Too used to having a kwami of her own around, she unconsciously pet his head, though he at least didn't seem to mind. "Besides, you shouldn't have been held captive in the first place. You deserved to be free."

She'd already decided to hold onto him for a while to let him heal. Even being as ancient as he was, it couldn't have been pleasant dealing with the situation he'd been forced into.

She frowned, bringing the miraculous back down to chest level and thinking over the situation. Under Gabriel Agreste's ascot the whole time was the butterfly miraculous, and inside that was the woman who led up to all of—

"...Huh?"

Nooroo flew closer, peering over her shoulder. "What is it, La—Marinette?"

She blinked. She remembered the moment she tore the miraculous from Hawk Moth, the way it flew across the room as the man detransformed in front of her. She'd hurried to retrieve it before even seeing who he was and caught the image of Adrien's mother inside, the miraculous having popped open during the fall.

However, in her possession, the picture of Emilie was gone and in its place was Luka Couffaine. It was a simple shot of him looking delicately at the "camera," his eyelids relaxed and a soft smile on his face.

"It changed..." she muttered.

"Yes," Nooroo replied casually. "He feels like a sweet boy. I'm glad you have someone like that. Not all heroes do."

She raised a brow at him, puzzled, and not just from the comment about Luka "feeling" like a sweet boy; it must've made sense to kwami, or maybe just Nooroo specifically.

"Oh." He went over to float next to the miraculous, placing a hand next to the image. "I'm the kwami of emotion, and my miraculous reflects that. The person inside changes based on what's in the holder's heart."

"But..." She hesitated, lips pressed into a tight line as she considered the information. "What about Adrien?"

Nooroo placed a paw to his chin, thoughtful. "Yes, he could have been in my mas—" He tensed. "—ah, in Gabriel Agreste's miraculous."

She wanted to correct him - to say that it wasn't what she'd meant - but the answer he'd given did go down a similar path to what she'd been wondering. "What do you mean?"

"Some of my holders had their lovers inside, some had their best friends, and other had their child or children." His eyes grew briefly distant in his reminiscing. "Even when they already had lovers, there were holders who had their best friend here instead."

That... well, it was interesting, but it didn't explain what she was experiencing. Adrien had been the crush everyone had (unfortunately) known her for, and Alya was always someone she considered her best friend, so what did that make Luka? If she was honest with herself, she never got to think about it; whenever she'd tried to, there were interruptions or other matters to tend to.

Nooroo stared at the mix of emotions on her face, eyes too intelligent for someone so small and cute. Offering her a comforting smile, he reminded her, "You have time to think about it now if you wish to. That's what many holders do after everything's over, even if I can't be there for it."

The statement was so obvious, yet it'd never occurred to her before. She'd been so deep into the monotony of being Ladybug, of chasing Adrien, of making time for everyone and everything she wanted to do, that it didn't feel real for it to be over. He was right though: there were still loose ends to tie up, but she finally had time for herself and for her own thoughts.

She felt... reassured.

—————

One of said loose ends to deal with after the two lost miraculouses were retrieved was Master Fu and Marianne. Now that Gabriel was in prison where he belonged, they were free to be together as much as they wished.

Part of that wish was to travel the world in order to do all of the things they'd once planned to long ago. The Miracle Box would go with him as well as Duusu, who was getting her own well-deserved vacation after having her miraculous broken for so long. Beyond the butterfly, Marinette kept the ladybug miraculous with her in case of emergencies, promising to call if Marianne needed to don the horse and bring her a miraculous or two.

It was bittersweet, heartwarming but confusing. She'd seen them together only for a moment before, but they really did make a charming couple. Despite years apart, they touched each other like it was instinctive and were like a pair straight out of a wedding, ready to jump into their honeymoon phase.

She wanted that. She had wanted that for a long time, ever since she was a child. Someone to grow old with, to share secrets with, and to be comfortable around.

It was uncomfortable realizing that she didn't have anything close to that with Adrien. She'd worked towards something like it, and where had it gotten her? She'd almost managed it and got humiliated in front of her friends.

It hurt worse to see Master Fu and Marianne so thankful to her, when she felt like she was the cause of them being apart for even longer. No matter how many assurances she had that it was an accident, it didn't change what happened. Emotions she hadn't felt before began to bubble to the surface; ones that she either hadn't focused on or simply hadn't had time to feel.

Sure, she would meet up with them again someday, but she wondered if it could've been different. Even seeing them off, it was difficult to say what her relationship with Master Fu even was. He lured her into running in front of a car to save him, but simultaneously cared for her well-being and trusted her abilities. He mentored her and the plan had originally been to make her the next guardian, but it wasn't like she'd really wanted it, or to be Ladybug in the first place.

She hadn't asked for any of this.

As for Marianne, Marinette barely knew her at all. Had the letters not been mixed up, they might've gotten to know each other better. Maybe she would've had a positive female role model in her life, or she could've come to see her like a grandmother figure, someone who stuck around more than her actual one.

She should be thankful, she told herself. Ladybug gave her the strength to stand up to her bully, and she was such a screw-up that it was a miracle she hadn't made things worse for them. It wasn't fair for her to be lonely, jealous, or resentful of them.

"Negative emotions don't have to be ugly," Nooroo whispered from her bag when he caught her wringing her hands together. He touched her with a paw, trying to soothe her. "It's how you work through them that matters."

All in all, she felt... conflicted.

—————

Marinette's friends were the first to learn of her identity, almost as soon she'd been given the okay to do so.

It wasn't all of them, of course, but figuring out which ones she could tell had ended up being more difficult than she'd thought. Her secret had been kept safe for so long and it was precious to her, so even if she was largely out of the weeds of risk, she didn't want it getting out into the public.

Thus came the natural conclusion that she could only tell people she truly trusted, and it would be pointless to tell those who she barely ever hung out with. The latter alone left out most of the boys in her class barring Ivan, who she'd interacted with plenty during the two weeks of preparation for their Kitty Section video.

While Nooroo munched away peacefully on some snacks, she had to resort to writing down all the people she considered "friends," a list that ended up surprisingly long. The Marinette of the past swelled with pride at the sight but, upon closer inspection, there were only a handful she could say she'd genuinely bonded with.

It was then that she realized she didn't really know what having a friend meant. Her parents had always encouraged her to talk to people, make friends, and had been the ones who gave her the box of macarons on her first day of the new year.

A bribe, essentially, or a conversation starter if she was being generous; reel people in with the prospect of sweets and then try to make some sort of connection with them. It never really worked, and the basis for most of the friendships she had nowadays came down to them being nice to or doing something for each other.

Reluctantly, she'd had to scratch most names out and write them on a more proper list, like acquaintances. She was also just as reluctant, if not more so, to recognize that she couldn't come up with a valid reason to tell friends like Alix, Rose, or Alya about her identity.

Alix was for reasons unrelated to Alix herself, as Marinette associated Alix knowing her identity with Bunnyx and therefore the traumatic events of Chat Blanc. Rose, meanwhile, was too likely to let the secret slip by accident.

Alya though, had already spilled a secret of hers before: she'd told Nino about her crush on Adrien, then tried to lie about it. How could she have counted on her to keep her big secret if she couldn't keep the (relatively) smaller one? They spent the most time together, certainly, and Marinette didn't dislike her, but could she say that Alya was her "best friend" if she couldn't keep her secrets safe?

Not really.

In the end, she'd picked four people: Juleka, Ivan, Mylene, and Luka. Juleka was too quiet to care about telling people, Ivan would be fine so long as he could talk to Mylene about it, and Luka was—well, Luka, the most mature out of all her friends to the point where people went to him for advice.

When she pointed out what she felt was a pathetic number to Nooroo, he replied, "It's good not to spread yourself too thin. Even my most caring holders only had so much love and trust to give before they exhausted themselves."

The word resonated with her. She felt... exhausted.

—————

It was, perhaps, inevitable that Chat Noir would want reveal their identities to each other. He'd wanted to since the very beginning and there was little danger to worry about anymore.

Hesitantly, she agreed, but hadn't been mentally or emotionally prepared to see Adrien Agreste standing in Chat Noir's place. He was equally surprised to see her own identity, but she couldn't make out his excitement about them already knowing each other or the actual words he was saying with everything going on in her head.

She put her arms behind her back, allowing her to pinch herself without being seen. She could see the appeal of it, in a way: she'd been crushing on Adrien and Chat had been crushing on Ladybug, so it sounded perfect on the surface that revealing their identities would "solve" things.

Yet, to Marinette, it sounded like a sick joke, like a prank Chloe would've set up so she could laugh while watching Marinette spin in circles over it. Her life had been complicated enough without throwing in something straight out of a cheap drama that tried to keep the characters apart for as long as possible. After all of that embarrassment she'd been through, she'd apparently been "loved" by him all along?

Except she wasn't interested in Chat. Technically, she wasn't even interested in Adrien either until he gave her that umbrella. Was Adrien the "real" Adrien, or was it Chat Noir? Was it half-and-half? If so, what did it say if she wasn't crushing on both of them?

She could still recall that rainy afternoon after having finally stood up for Chloe after multiple years. It was so picturesque, with the sound of thunder punctuating the emotion as Adrien offered her his umbrella. It was the first act of kindness any boy had really—

Oh God, did she really fall for the first boy to show any semblance of kindness to her as Marinette? Had she been that desperate for someone to cherish? How could she go back in time and offer the Marinette who felt like she had nothing a hug?

She tried to focus on what Chat—Adrien was saying, and to respond with her own questions in kind. Why did he notice Ladybug and not Marinette? Why did he tell her that he had no friends when he'd known Chloe as a friend for years? Why...

just why?

But it all came out scrambled, too many thoughts stumbling about to form into anything coherent. Her brain ached at the onslaught of everything she wanted to say and everything she wished so badly to forget about while struggling with the knowledge that Adrien lost his dad and she should be gentle with him.

"It's okay to take a step back," Nooroo had told her sometime before, "You don't owe anyone your time if you're not ready to talk yourself."

Had he known or suspected something like this might happen? Regardless, she took the advice and left for home.

The revelations had left her feeling... disappointed.

—————

Marinette ate meals at home without needing to rush, she finished projects that she'd had to drop due to having no time before, and she slept soundly with the knowledge that an akuma wouldn't appear in the middle of the night to disturb her.

Refreshing was an understatement: it was healing. The ache in her feet and the pain in her spine that no fourteen-year-old should have to deal with disappeared, and she hadn't even noticed how much it had hurt until they were gone.

She could finally make time for herself, going off to an art museum for inspiration or taking a stop to eat just because. She shared food with Nooroo when no one was looking and pretended to be on the phone with someone when she wanted to talk to him. The small things she'd taken for granted before becoming Ladybug felt like a luxury now: like a princess spoiling herself, not with a shopping spree or servants but a hot cup of tea and a midday nap.

When she could enjoy the act of doing nothing in particular, she found herself pulling out the butterfly miraculous to look at. Luka's face continued to stare back at her, the same gentle gaze as always.

While Adrien had been at the forefront of her romantic pursuits, she couldn't dismiss Luka's presence either. Her heart skipped a beat when their eyes first met, they bonded over a mutual appreciation for Jagged Stone, and he gave her what both her and Tikki agreed was a tender and very real love confession.

At the same time, Luka was her friend. Alya had teased her a couple times over being attracted to him, but then wasn't happy with her letting Adrien go date Kagami. She didn't really get it and, as she reminded herself again, there always seemed to be something in the way when she tried to make sense of it.

People rarely batted an eye or said anything when she called Luka a friend, like they didn't even take the idea of him being anything more seriously. Calling Adrien a friend, on the other hand, earned her snickers and sarcastic comments.

It was ridiculous, wasn't it? Either they mocked the idea because she'd made so little progress that they weren't even friends at all (which she wouldn't have disagreed with), it was such an unimportant step on the road to being a couple that it was laughable, or she couldn't see him as a friend so long as she was crushing on him, which was—

Marinette's eyelids flew wide open. She sat up in her seat, taking her first gasp post-epiphany.

"Nooroo, I'm so stupid!"

He blinked at her, gently admonishing, "You're not stupid, Marinette, and you shouldn't say things like that about yourself. If you feel like you have to, try something softer, like silly."

"Then I'm REALLY silly!"

—————

The weather as Marinette waited near the Liberty was only average. Clouds filled the sky, not storm clouds but ones that covered the sun enough to where it felt later than it really was. It wasn't exactly the making a grand statement kind of atmosphere, but the weather had never worked how she'd wanted it to anyway, apparently.

There was no one home, so she lingered around, reclined on the stairs going back up to the city, and idled on her phone. She'd shown up wholly unannounced in her haste to get there, so she was fine being left to her thoughts for a while.

It could've been anywhere from five to thirty minutes before she heard a familiar, "Marinette?"

She looked up. Luka was standing there with his bike, understandably surprised to see her.

"You should've called me to tell me you were coming. I could've been here sooner."

She giggled when he pulled out his phone, just to make sure she didn't text him while he was doing his job and failed to notice. "It's okay. I didn't want you to rush."

"We love having you here," he added with a frown, putting his bike aside so he could make the awkward leap onto the Liberty. Setting up the gangplank for her, he added, "You can invite yourself in any time."

"It felt too empty when there wasn't anyone here." She shrugged, stepping up the little walkway to go across. At the Liberty's side, she sat down on the steps and looked up at him expectantly. "And I came to talk to you?"

It came out like a question because she had considered that he could've have prior plans or some such but, because it was Luka, he smiled and sat down next to her.

He didn't even go back to get his bike.

"Okay." He undid the straps to his helmet and put it aside. "What did you want to talk about?"

It was oddly casual, all things considered. The others that she'd told her secret still were a bit star-struck after she told them that she was Ladybug. It wasn't at all a bad thing - Nooroo encouraged the boost to her ego it gave her - but it was also nice to have someone who didn't care: who just saw Marinette.

Her eyes flicked up to the top of his head. The signature strand of hair there had been pressed down by the helmet he'd had on from his job, and she unconsciously reached out to fix it. His face remained carefully neutral and he was entirely still for all of it.

It only registered with her what she'd done when she pulled back to check her "work." Blushing faintly, she dropped her focus to the brooch clipped to her jacket.

"Do you remember when I told you I was Ladybug—I mean, of course you do—but..." She fidgeted with the brooch, then gently pulled it off. "...how I was keeping the butterfly miraculous for a while?"

He nodded. "Its kwami must've been through a lot. Are they feeling any better?"

"A little." She smiled, impressed and touched that he'd thought about some kwami he hadn't even met. "But I was surprised. There was a picture inside, and it changed when it became my miraculous."

She took a deep breath before handing it over; Nooroo had told her to imagine her own nerves as if they were beings that needed oxygen in the same way she did, and they could only breathe if she did as well. The thoughts raced through her mind from "What if he thinks it's weird?" to "You mean weirder than anything else you've ever done? Please."

Luka turned the brooch over in his hands, Marinette suppressing a giggle as she noted that it wasn't unlike what she'd done when she first got it. Nevertheless, he eventually popped it open, staring at the image of himself inside.

She kept speaking before he could ask any questions, the words rushing forth from her throat, "I didn't get it. I didn't even know it did that. Nooroo - he's the kwami - told me that it could mean anything. Other holders had friends or crushes in theirs, but all I knew for sure was that..." She swallowed, watching his expression carefully. "...you’re important to me."

His head jerked to the side to look at her, mouth dropping open like he might say something, but nothing came out. In the background, she could still see the sky, overcast and gray, but Luka's eyes were blue and appeared even brighter than usual.

"Y—" He exhaled, almost chuckling, but not in any mean way. He was charmed. "You're important to me too, Marinette."

Her heart fluttered pleasantly and she sat a bit straighter from how light she felt. In a way, she already knew that - he'd confessed to her, after all - but it was so soothing to hear it out loud. She threw her arms out, gesticulating left and right as she added, "But I felt like I couldn't just come here and tell you that. I wanted to be sure, instead of saying, hey, Luka, my vaguely important something-or-other!"

That got him chuckling for real. Whatever he expected her to say next, it didn't seem to be what she was going to say. Being "important" to her really seemed to be enough to make him happy all on its own.

She hadn't thought about it before, but all those loose ends had been leading up to this. The kind of romance she hoped to have for herself, the people she could trust, the phrase "just a friend" thrown around almost like an insult.

Luka.

She turned her body towards him, her knee bumping lightly against his. Extending an arm towards him, she gently held the hand that he wasn't holding the brooch with. He quieted, noting the change in atmosphere.

"I'm comfortable around you. I trust you," she told him. "Those two weeks together were probably the most me I've ever been."

He squeezed her hand.

"You're such a great friend—" She hurriedly waved her free hand about. "—and I don't mean it that way, but you are! So I thought it meant we shouldn't be not friends because you wouldn't be that great friend anymore!"

It was a little disjointed, but the underlying message was there. Her experience (or lack thereof) had told her that there was being friends and being together with no in-between and no overlap. When it came to a romantic relationship, friendship was a pathway and nothing more. Following that logic and what she'd interpreted from Nooroo's teaching, she thought that meant that Luka had to be her friend or her crush.

"But... I want it to be both," Marinette concluded. She held onto his other hand too, their thumbs touching just above the picture in the brooch. "I want to be friends with you, Luka, and I want you too. I—" She averted her gaze, voice almost inaudible as she added, "I want to kiss you."

It was perhaps - no, definitely - a bold declaration, but she'd been holding it in ever since she left the house. It was so obvious when it clicked, like the solution to a Lucky Charm finally coming together.

Only this was her life, not the distant life of her superhero self, and the only thing she was fighting was time; time that she wasn't going to waste now that she had it back.

"...Marinette," Luka finally spoke.

Oh. She shuddered, catching onto the heightened emotion in his voice. Not turning her head, she peeked up at him hopefully.

He'd closed his eyes and leaned towards her just slightly, but otherwise didn't move from his spot. In other words, he was opening himself up to be kissed. She nearly uttered a "wow," but it couldn't make it past her lips.

She couldn't believe it was really happening. Was it really so easy, or did it being easy make it all the more real? In a life where everything had been so complicated - making friends, being Ladybug, coming up with grand plans for anything and everything - wasn't it perfect for the love she'd longed for to be so simple by contrast?

Luka loved her. She loved him. That was it, and she just had to embrace the chance.

She slowly took her hands off of his. Then, remembering the thing that got her there, she took the brooch out of his hand. Holding his jacket in place, she clipped the brooch onto it, smiling to herself over the little visual metaphor for their shared feelings.

Luka's eyes stayed closed, but his twitching smile told her he understood.

The miraculous had been kept open, so she saw it change in real time. Light that didn't exist reflected off of the surface, turning it so white that she couldn't see Luka's image anymore. When it faded away, she was the one pictured there, her teeth showing in a beaming grin and eyes glowing in the same way the rest of her face was.

Hands free, she looked up affectionately at who she felt she could properly consider her boyfriend. She cupped his face, her thumbs caressing the tiny lines caused by the straps of the helmet he'd had on. She would've even been happy to continue doing just that, fascinated by the intimate bubble they'd created for themselves.

Still, she eased herself towards him, pulling him in. She tilted her head to the side and encouraged his to tilt to the other, which he followed along to without a word.

She kissed him, and felt Luka's previously stationary body move with purpose. He kissed her back as his hands went from his lap to her sides, holding her tenderly. The sensation was strong enough that it made her squeak, a sound that made Luka let go in alarm.

She took a hand off his cheek to grip his sleeve tight and keep him in place, assuring him that he was doing fine; fantastic, actually. He took the message exactly as intended, sliding himself closer so he could fully wrap his arms around her.

At some point, she climbed onto his lap, or maybe he lifted her there. It didn't really matter. They were kissing, and her whole world made sense at that very moment.

She felt loved, and was finally able to give it right back.

[myazael]

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