#Pro Lukanette

[aespades]

So, two in one day. This will probably never happen again. But I love making comics. Let me know if you'd want to see more.

[pancakebm]

partners or enemies? ❤️‍🔥

[yan-san-yan]

🫧MERMAY LUKANETTE 🫧

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers I made it in time for the event ✨

[andraedevane]

I'm gonna say it: Miraculous Ladybug is one of the most toxic fandoms related to the ships and that's a fact. Don't try to tell me I'm wrong.

I saw a lot of pins in Pinterest of Adrigami, Lukadrien, Kagaminette and more ships with comments like "Wtf is this?", "Disgusting", "The only good ship in MLB is Adrinette", "Marinette only deserves to end with Adrien".

Are. You. Serious?

People can ship whatever they want, and if someone ships Lilanette, Chloénette, Alyanette, Ninonette or another ship it's up to them. You don't have to say they're mentally ill for not shipping Adrinette. Just because a ship is canon doesn't mean everyone has to like it. And if you don't like Lilanette, Chloénette, Alyanette or any ship involving Marinette and a classmate of her, just ignore it. Don't watch posts of that ship or read fics just to say you hate it. Because if you do that, don't complain when people decide to do the same with Adrinette.

[writer-rider-flirty-thirties]

"It's a happy ending." He assures though. "A very happy ending."

I commisioned these wonderful pieces from @carolgpr for my fic Should I Stay Or Should I Go (they’ll be posted in the fic some time this week). It’s so amazing! 💜

Thank you so much!!! Go check them out!!! 

[ml-lukanette-bigbang]

Artist applications for the MLLBB are officially open! Want to become an artist with us? Unlike the original Miraculous Big Bang, the focus of this event will be entirely on Lukanette!

This means that Lukanette will be the end goal of the event, not any other ship for either of them. So long as the endgame is Luka Couffaine / Marinette Dupain-Cheng, other pairings are allowed in.

For this event, artists will create two art pieces. There's an FAQ available on our pinned post to learn more about the event.

Apply now!

[pastelranicorn]

A wrapped up Mari on a snowy mission to go see Luka <3

[cocoabellefuntimes]

Happy Valentine's day!

This is a gift for the lovely @mistyshadow707-blog

Hope you have a great day. Enjoy your gift 🫴

Short headcanon: In this au, Marinette's somewhat of a lil assassin, and she's been tasked to investigate what's been making such a fuss in the forest. Luka himself has been watching her for dayyyyysssss. He knows she's dangerous but something about that danger seems enticing to him. This is their first meet up. Marinette's too stunned to do anything else but look 🤭🤷🏾‍♀️

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers

[stardust-blossom]

VIPERMOUSE AND LUKAMOUSE FANFIC

Basically This fanfic has both Lukamouse and Vipermouse (I can't make it separate since it would take me alot of time but whatever)

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"Luka, are you okay?" Multimouse asked, her concern evident in her voice. Luka responded with a simple "yes" before she left. "Marinette really looks cute with the mouse miraculous, right, Sass?" Luka realized that he was being distracted and quickly transformed into Viperion, coming into the battlefield.

During the fight, Viperion saw that Pixelator was aiming for Multimouse and yelled out, "Multimouse, watch out!" He grabbed her waist and pulled her out of harm's way just in time. "Mari, are you okay?" Viperion whispered to Multimouse, who blushed and responded with a stuttering "yeah." Both knew each other's identities, which only added to the awkwardness.

Suddenly, Pixelator zapped Multimouse, but before he could take Viperion down, Viperion used "second chance" and rewind time. He saved them both and got them out of danger. Multimouse pulled out the Ladybug miraculous and said confidently, "The way to defeat Pixelator is to make things easy." She recited the three words, "Tikki, Mullo, Unify," and transformed into Multibug. "Wow, you look stunning," Luka stammered as he gazed upon her. "Thanks, now come on, we gotta defeat him," Multibug said with resolve.

It took a while to defeat Pixelator, but Multibug and Viperion persevered. Once they had succeeded, they went somewhere else to detransform. As they were both recovering from the fight, they exchanged a secret but passionate kiss before heading home, safe and sound.

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Hey blossoms

This is the Final Lukanette LS fanfic (don't worry, i'm not quiting lukanette, i still love the lukanette LS)

I might make a more better version of these in the future.

byeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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[aespades]

So, I've been sitting on this one a while.

I blame totk, I've been kinda playing nonstop. But- I finished, and I'm throwing it out here before I nitpick it to death.

Here's a link ( I hope) of the fic this is based on.

Excellent story. Love it.

@mintaka14

[pancakebm]

[yan-san-yan]

Adrien also wants a hug from his very good friend 🥲

I might make an AU based on this 🎶

[fragileizywriting]

okay, so.

marinette has a problem.

the problem is luka's hands.

no, no, that's not fair. actually, the problem is luka's entire arms— the hands are included, of course, but the arms thing. with his chest. and his shoulders. and his torso. okay, the top half of him. not really much of his legs, but those are... just as much of a problem. okay, yeah, she's having a problem. she's having a problem with him.

most specifically the arms, though.

she absolutely, positively, cannot stand the way he grips the steering wheel whenever he drives, because his hands are massive, and the steering wheel of his beatup mitsubishi is nothing but a tea-cup saucer, and she really, really likes them.

hello.

hi.

especially when he grips the wheel and his knuckles go white and it reminds her very, very much of something else.

“please,” she begs.

“no,” he responds, and he drums along the steering wheel in a delightful little pattern that she can't stop watching. tap tap tap. tap, tap, tap. tap... tap... tap... “we’re not stopping for coffee. put away the puppy eyes, kitty.” then, he adds, before she can even respond: “sorry, ‘coffee’.”

“i heard those quotation marks,” she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at him, though he doesn't meet her gaze to see it. he knows it's there. it's a sixth sense. just like he knew she was batting her eyes at him in a way he can't refuse. “are you just upset that i like good coffee?”

“good coffee," he scoffs, doing something with his palms against the wheel that has her brain starting to whirr. how is it that his hands are just so... big? "sorry, no, you mean american coffee. coffee that's just sugar and syrup.”

“and they’re right,” she argues. “please? as a thank you for coming with you to carrefour?”

“a thank you?” he laughs out loud, merging into a roundabout. hands. hands. hands, hands, hands. strong forearms. enticing biceps. she's a dog sitting outside a butchershop, waiting for someone to take pity and toss her a bone. he could crush her and she'd whimper out a thank you. “you invited yourself!”

she bites her lip. his hand is on the shiftknob so he can change gears. she's about to swoon. “i... uh—" what was she saying? "i don’t trust your yogurt choices.”

“greek yogurt is good.”

“it’s disgusting,” she continues, pointing at an exit that she wants him to take, because coffee is that way. he does. she doesn't have to give him directions, because he knows where they're going, because it's her favourite new coffeehouse. “anything that's not strawberry flavoured yogurt is a problem. what's with the adventurous streak with the vanilla flavour? coconut? are you out of your mind?”

“sometimes i wonder why your tastebuds are still so childish,” he teases. left hand in his lap for a moment. holy jesus. “sugary, strawberry—”

“let a woman live a little! i deserve treats! cute treats! big treats! cute, big treats!” she blinks at the silence, listening him tap, tap, tapping away. “hold on, hold it, i didn't invite myself, i live with you.”

“you couch surf.”

“you ass,” she giggles. “i do not. and since when do you consider your own bed a couch? pretty sure you were adamant about it being a futon when you first got it.”

he turns the ignition off before she even realizes it. here they are, in the parking lot, and she has yet to look away from that tender touch he has with his wheel.

"before we go in, look up at me for a second?"

"huh?"

he is way, way too close to her personal space when he leans over. blue eyes spark in the sunlight coming in and reflecting from the hood of the truck. "look up, kitty."

"yeah?"

god, he's gorgeous. she can't stop biting her lip, wiggling her tongue against her gums to make her canines stop humming.

"we can get your coffee. if"—a finger wag follows, touching her on the tip of her nose—"you stop looking at me like i'm a top sirloin."

she blinks passively. "what?"

"i know you well enough to know you get this look in your eye when you're hungry," he muses, thumb on her mouth. he presses in. lightly. just enough to squish her bottom lip. he's leaning over her in a way that feels like he's about to kiss her, maybe shut himself up for a little while, but he doesn't want to bridge the gap just yet. "you also do it when you're horny. i know you're not hungry because you tossed all of my offers to get beignets out the window, but you keep squirming in your seat everytime i move. you're salivating."

"i— i just want coffee," she wheezes.

"yeah? you sure?"

"y-yeah."

"so if i reach behind my seat to grab your purse, you're not going to hiss just because it makes my arms look nice?"

"i think you're overestimating how much i find you attractive."

"i am very much not," he laughs. "you're forgetting i've known you since whatever. let's get your drink and go home, you're not going to get any easier to keep still when you have sugar in you— remember that we need to pack away the groceries into the fridge before you jump me."

[ml-lukanette-bigbang]

Writer applications for the MLLBB are officially open! Want to become a writer with us? Unlike the original Miraculous Big Bang, the focus of this event will be entirely on Lukanette!

This means that Lukanette will be the end goal of the event, not any other ship for either of them. So long as the endgame is Luka Couffaine / Marinette Dupain-Cheng, other pairings are allowed in.

For this event, writers will write a minimum of 10,000 words. There's an FAQ available on our pinned post to learn more about the event.

Apply now!

[justminawrites]

Of Ribbons and Other Lost Things - Chapter 3: Unlucky Girls

AO3

1 | 2 | 3 | TBC

Luka Couffaine had made a mistake.

He couldn’t decide when it had happened– maybe following his ex-girlfriend’s father into their family bakery was where it all started to fall apart, or even putting the idea of part-time employment into Tom Dupain’s mind. 

Maybe it went even further back than that. In hindsight, waking up today didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“No, no, you need to feel the dough admit defeat,” Tom attempted to demonstrate the delicate kneading technique, “See, like this.”

Luka stared at the evidently undefeated beige mush on the counter and tried not to cringe as he imagined it growing two eyes, a mouth, and begin laughing at him. He’d never been particularly good at any non-musical extracurriculars, though he wished he’d taken pottery or something, just so he wouldn’t dig himself into an even deeper grave in front of Marinette’s father. And her best friend.

“Wow, Luka, you’re really showing that bread who’s boss,” Alya Cesaire teased from across the room, watching him massacre the flour-to-water ratio as she tapped away on her phone.

“We don’t seem to be in harmony,” he admitted, embarrassed by how quickly he was ready to quit. Forget harmony, they didn’t even seem to be playing the same note. How anyone could do this was beyond him. Marinette really was amazing.

“Maybe it’s better if I give up fighting the dough, altogether.”

“Nonsense!” Tom interrupted, visibly trying not to wince as he leaned in to examine the creation, “We were all beginners once. You just need a.. uh.. you just need a little more–“

Luka braced himself for what he was going to say. Skill? Patience? Humility-to-admit-you’ll-never-be-good-enough-for-certain-things-and-let-them-go-because-you’re-not-Adrien-Agreste– 

“Flour, dear. You just need a little more flour.”

Both Tom and Luka looked up to see Sabine Cheng enter the bakery, her arms filled with stacks of colourful flyers. 

Alya quickly tucked away her phone in her back pocket to lighten her load, sending a few papers scattering across the tiled floors. As Sabine thanked her, Luka watched a bright blue one float across the room and gently settle on the marble counter, inches away from his pile of mushy dough.

QIXI JIE PLAY: Tickets only available till XX/XX/XX (2 weeks left!)

“Sabine!” Marinette’s father seemed to (for lack of a better phrase) light up, eyes twinkling, as his wife proceeded to dust off her apron and join them; carefully holding a cup of flour. 

“I made the same mistake when I first learned to bake,” she said reassuringly, dumping the white powder over Luka’s hands, “Tom’s father wouldn’t let me live it down for weeks.”

“Of course!” Tom grinned, putting on an affected accent to his voice, “Two cups of water in the mixture, Sabine? That’s not how it’s done!”

“There,” Sabine smiled back, “Now try, Luka.”

He reluctantly replicated the kneading movements he’d been watching Tom make for the past twenty minutes, and was relieved to see that his watery creation had now solidified into a a more play-dough like consistency. The tightness in chest eased a little, seeing the progress he’d made. 

“Are you putting on a play, Mme. Cheng?” Alya interrupted, not waiting for a response as she plucked the final flyer off the counter and added it to her pile,

“I could drop a link in The Ladyblog if you’re having trouble selling tickets.”

“That’s kind of you, dear,” Sabine gestured for her to pass the flyers back which she did, “But it’s not my play. I’m doing this as a favour to a friend who wanted me to teach his actors the traditional art of Dunhuang.“

“The Chinese ribbon dance,” she clarified, when three pairs of eyes blinked at her bemusedly. Sabine sighed, tucking away the sheath of papers in a cabinet below the counter, and looked up at her husband with worry. 

“Unfortunately, it’s all very last minute so I can’t run the bakery and teach full-time. Tom and I were thinking of getting Marinette to help out but we don’t want to overwhelm her–“ 

“Maman? What did you need help with?”

Luka could feel his heart cartoonishly leap into his throat as her voice drifted down the wrought-iron staircase, and mentally pushed it down into the depths of his stomach, as the tap tap tap of ballet flats slapping the ground hurried to join them. 

Sure, it’d only been a week since he’d seen her but a lot could happen in a week. He could be perfectly fine in a week. Perfectly fine and completely over the breakup, and not at all thinking about how Jule took close ups of his face all week that she’d probably shown to all her friends and oh he was so going to disown his sister when he got home–

Marinette Dupain-Cheng entered the room and let out a sound that was somewhere between squeak and wheeze when she saw his face.

“L-Luka?!”

Luka couldn’t recall what he’d said in reply, if he’d said anything at all or wether he was even breathing because Marinette.. because her hair..

Her hair was down; out of its trademark style and spilling down her shoulders, the ends thick and black.

The idea that Luka had never seen Marinette with her hair down was laughable as it was strangely poetic. They’d hung out together so often - they’d dated! - but seeing her like this seemed much more vulnerable somehow. Like he was getting a glimpse of all the things she couldn’t tell him when they were together. All the things he couldn’t bring himself to ask. 

Not that she wasn’t beautiful. She was always beautiful. 

It was only when Marinette blushed and pulled her hair into its usual twin ponytails, that he was able to tear his gaze away from her and back to the mound of dough in front of him. Don’t lose your cool, don’t lose your cool, don’t–

“Hey, Marinette,” he said easily, though his voice wavered in a way that no one but Jule would’ve noticed.

“I didn’t expect– I mean– You look– Your jacket–“ she floundered her reply, earning a laugh from her best friend. 

Luka looked around him in surprise; he’d taken off his jacket to keep it from getting in the way. He felt a little naked without it but hadn’t wondered if it made him look weird until now. Great, now she thinks I’m weird and a stalker.

“Real smooth, girl.” After a pointed glare in Alya’s direction, Marinette turned back to him, finally noticing the dough in his hands. 

Her lips broke into shy smile. 

“What are you making?” She asked curiously, skirting around the awkwardness of him being here, in her house, when both of them knew she’d been avoiding him.

“Just bread,” he said, almost apologetically covering it with the flat of his palms, “–but I think Baking might not be the right instrument for me.“

“Here, let me see.”

Luka moved back in surprise as she came to stand beside beside him, dusting her own hands in flour. He’d expected her to be nervous and uncomfortable around him now that they’d broken up (for reasons neither of them could articulate), but Marinette only furrowed her brow in concentration, pulling the baking sheet towards herself, and got to work. 

“There,” she beamed up at him, barely ten minutes later, “All done.”

Marinette had managed to pummel his sickly-beige, barely-dough concoction into the dusky brown colour of before-bread with only a few shakes of flour and the twist of her wrist. 

“O-oh, wait,” She mumbled when he’d stared at her in awe instead of replying, “I didn’t mean– I wasn’t trying to show off or anything–“

“You’re amazing, Marinette,” It escaped his mouth before he could fully realise what he’d said, and now she was looking at him with big eyes. Crap. That was probably a bit too strong. 

“I.. am?” 

“–at baking!” He added quickly, not meeting her gaze, “A real magician, Marinette!”

Why couldn’t he stop saying her name? The awkwardness and the lingering effect of his words seemed to envelop the two of them and Luka had to force himself not to react to the spark of electricity that shot through his nerves when their forearms accidentally brushed. 

“That’s right, my daughter’s a genius!” Tom swooped in between them to examine the dough, and Luka moved back, relieved. 

If this kept up, he would start pulling out the finger-guns before lunch; and absolutely, under no circumstances, could he have Marinette realising that the ex-boyfriend she thought was cool and mature, was actually a huge dorkasaurus. He’d done enough damage already.

Tom swept the dough into a tray and lovingly placed it into the oven as Sabine handed them both a wet towelette. He tried to look at Marinette out of the corner of his eye, and found her gaze already transfixed on her best friend’s phone.

“We gotta leave soon if we want to make it before André splits,” Alya said matter-of-factly, pointing at something on her screen, “It’ll take us at least 20 minutes to get there on foot.”

“And guess who’s going to be there because of the Bourgeois’ anniversary party?”

Luka didn’t need to turn around to see Alya shake her friend’s shoulders and quietly mouth ‘Adrien’ to know who it was. 

To know who it always would be, with Marinette.

“Marinette, could you be a dear and get the apples I left out by the door before you leave?”

“Sure, Maman!”

Luka smiled at her retreating back as she pushed open the bakery door, and stored the sorrow somewhere deep inside him instead. 

He’d meant it when he said he’d be happy for her when they got together. Not ‘if’ but ‘when.’ Because that was yet another curse he carried by remembering the events that he’d lived through, akumatised as Truth– Marinette’s secret was that all her roads ended up at Adrien Agreste, wether she wanted them to or not. 

All of Paris seemed to know that it was only a matter of when. 

He would be happy, He would be happy, he would be happy. Even if the stars fell from the sky and the moon broke into a thousand pieces. Even if every instrument he’d ever made went up in flames. Even if Shadowmoth won and all of Paris became a wasteland.

If Marinette loved Adrien, he’d be happy for her even if it killed him.

...

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was going to kill her best friend. 

Not only would she have appreciated knowing about her frickin’ ex-boyfriend baking bread with her father, Alya also had the gall to laugh in her face when she’d nearly fallen to pieces in front of him. 

She sighed as she curled her fingers around the crate of apples; Marinette could hardly blame her bff for the latter. Her heart had spontaneously combusted when she’d walked in to see Luka Couffaine of all people, behind the counter without his jacket, up to his elbows in flour, clearly out of his element and did she mention without his jacket??

In all the time that she’d known him, she hadn’t ever seen him jacket-less, and she hadn’t expected to feel so flustered by the strange intimacy of seeing Luka’s tanned forearms for the first time. Or those same arms baking bread.

Well..trying anyway.

Marinette stifled a smile at the thought. Luka was normally so calm and collected, there was something almost gratifying about knowing that he could be just as much as a fish out of water as her, even if it was just while kneading dough.

She felt the her cheeks flush as she recalled his awestruck expression ‘You’re amazing, Marinette.’ Alya had cackled knowingly and Marinette’s back pocket had buzzed with a text from the brunette. She didn’t even need to open it to know what it said.

@alya.ladyblogger: tryna impress someone r we

( ͡° ᴗ ͡°)

Marinette shook her head to clear away the blush. 

Alya had it all wrong; she wasn’t trying to impress Luka with her bread-making skills. If anything, she was trying to impress.. uh.. herself! That’s right, it’d been so long since she’d helped out her parents at the bakery that she started to wonder if her baking had become a little rusty. Yeah, that was definitely it.

Not seeing Luka in over a week had momentarily made her forget why she was avoiding him in the first place, and now Marinette wondered how he was handling the after-effects of the Truth akuma. 

She’d wanted to ask him about Jagged, about his mom; she’d wanted to ask him if he could ever forgive her for getting him akumatised, for any of it, but for once, she was afraid the answer might be exactly what she’d expected.

So she settled for Juleka’s mumbling and the close up pictures on her purple-haired-friend’s phone, telling herself it was for the best, it was for the best, it was for the best. Unlucky girls like her didn’t get to fall in love, and besides, Luka couldn’t get akumatised if she wasn’t around to let him down. Again. 

Marinette tried not to sigh, as the memory of the last time she talked to Luka rose up in the back of her mind: she’d broken up with him over the same bridge he’d taken her to that very evening, because it was easier than telling him the truth. 

No, not easier– safer. It was safer for the both of them if she stayed away. Or at least, she hoped it was. Oh, and Adrien too, of course. 

Though, she supposed, Adrien was hardly in danger with the way her words twisted themselves into pretzels around him. In fact, the only chance he’d ever become akumatised because of Marinette, is if he completely misunderstood everything she’d said– like Marianne.

And after everything that’d happened on French-American friendship week, even her feelings about Adrien had become pretzel-shaped; the inextricable threads of shame and disappointment weaving their way into the “love” she’d been so sure she held for him, less than a month ago.

Marinette took a breath and hoisted the crate up to her hip, trying not to recall that final night in New York, the cold shards of rain that peppered her face as she pedalled as hard as her burning calfs would let her. Hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she screamed and screamed after the car, only for Adrien to leave without even turning once. 

What a mess.

As Marinette was about to push open the bakery door a single apple fell from the crate and rolled backwards.

She tried to reach for the runaway fruit with one arm while balancing the crate in the other, and ended up losing her balance and toppling over instead, spilling the apples onto the sidewalk and earning sympathetic glances from the pedestrians on the street as she fell. 

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki flitted out of her purse as if on cue, perching on top of an apple, as her big bug eyes widened with concern. Marinette could see herself reflected back in the glassy blue tint, from the shadows under her own eyes all the way to the the defeated slump of her shoulders.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gotten a good night’s sleep– mess was an understatement. 

“I’m fine, Tikki,” she sighed rather than said, gathering the fruit back into the crate. 

“Just the same old, klutzy Marinette.”

The kwami frowned up at the mouse miraculous pendant hanging at her neck.

“Maybe you shouldn’t..” 

Whatever Tikki was going to say was immediately interrupted by the hum of a motor as a black taxi pulled up in front of the bakery, and a blonde girl, about her age, got out. 

The kwami quickly flew out of sight as the girl promised the driver she’d only be a few minutes, oblivious to the disarray Marinette herself was sitting in the middle of–  and the single red apple that had rolled to wait right under the girl’s colourful sneaker.

“Wait, WATCH OUT–“

But it was too late. 

A slip and a stumble later, the girl found herself right beside Marinette on the pavement, her fall jostling the blue beanie she was wearing off of her head, so Marinette could see a faded streak of pink hair peeking out of the blonde. 

“Oh my, is everyone alright?” The bakery door swung open to reveal a concerned Sabine, holding her purse tightly, with a bemused Tom in tow. 

The girl gave Marinette a weak smile as if to say ‘oh, clumsy me,’ and the idea that there was someone out there in the world who was just as uncoordinated and graceless as her was so silly that she grinned right back, and the two were soon in stitches on the floor outside the bakery. 

“Here, let me help you.. uh..”

“Zoé,” the girl smiled, taking Marinette’s outstretched arm, “I’m Zoé Lee.”

“Hello Zoé,” Marinette smiled, dusting herself off, “I’m Miss-Walking-Disaster, but everyone calls me Marinette. Please let me spot you some of our macarons to makeup for all this.”

“Oh, that’s not necessar–”

“I insist,” Marinette interrupted bending over to put away the last of the apples, “It’s the least I could do after introducing you to our lovely Parisian pavements.”

Before Zoé could reply however, Sabine sighed and took the crate off of the ground and handed it to her husband, who dutifully retreated back into the bakery.

“Maybe that’s enough excitement for the day, dear,” Sabine added, not unkindly, “Why don’t you let your father handle the macarons, hmm?”

“Yes Maman.”

“Wow!”

Zoé glanced down as Marinette got an eyeful of the bright sneakers and looked up at her with sparkling blue eyes.

“Your sneakers are awesome! Did you decorate them yourself?”

If there was anything Marinette loved more than designing, it was seeing other people’s designs. Particularly DIY ones. There was just something so inspiring about them.

“Yeah,” Zoe agreed tucking a lock of hair behind her ear sheepishly, “I’ve written down every nice thing that anyone’s ever said to me.”

“To keep them with me all the time.”

A single I ♥ U, was scribbled on to the toe cap of the left shoe.

Marinette frowned, “But there’s only one message.”

“I.. uh.. only had one friend.”

Both Sabine and Marinette let out an ‘oh’ sound, the sound wavering somewhere between pity and second-hand embarrassment. Zoe shifted on her feet, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“Why don’t you two come inside?” Sabine smoothly changed the topic, holding out an arm to help her daughter up, “And you can show your new friend around the bakery, Marinette.”

“That’s a great idea, Maman!”

“I mean..,” Marinette held up her hands apologetically, “Only if you’re free Zoé.. I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

Zoé shrugged, “I’m not in a rush.”

Sabine looked back and forth between the two girls fondly, smiled and turned to leave. Marinette quickly checked the left pocket of her pink jeans to make sure the bee miraculous was still where she’d left it and missed the strange glance Zoé gave her. 

“By the way,” Marinette added over her shoulder, as the two of them followed her mother back into the bakery, “–where’s your accent from? It’s really pretty.”

“New York,” the other girl replied, bending over slightly to tie her shoelace, “I’m from New York.”

“Wow! How exciting– I was just there on a class trip!”

“No way!”

“Yeah– so what brings you to Paris?”

“I’m here..“ the light in Zoé’s eyes darkened.

“...to see my family.”

______________________________________________________________

END NOTES:

This chapter was basically: Luka on the inside: asdfghjsjdjhbjhrwkjefehfhrgbkrhIstillloveyou Luka on the outside: oh hi marinette Mari on the inside: *Mari.exe stopped functioning after seeing jacket-less exboyfriend* Mari on the outside: *baking to not process feelings*

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[stardust-blossom]

Melodies of hope

(This is my first story that I uploaded on AO3)

Luka’s day had started off on the wrong foot. He woke up feeling like he had barely slept, with dark circles under his eyes that he hoped he could conceal. But as he made his way to school, his memory suddenly jolted him awake - he had completely forgotten about an important assignment that was due that day. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks as he rushed to submit it, but it was too late. The consequence of his forgetfulness led him straight to detention, adding more weight to his already heavy shoulders.

After enduring the long and stressful day at school, Luka finally arrived home, feeling like he could collapse at any moment. However, before he could even flop onto his bed, his twin sister Juleka reminded him of the kitty section gig they had planned on the houseboat that evening. The mere thought of having to perform after such a draining day made him want to scream in frustration. Despite feeling on the brink of exhaustion, he tried his best to keep his composure and not take out his frustrations on those around him.

As the performance began, Luka did his best to put on a show, but his fatigue was evident as he quietly strummed his guitar. During a break in the music, he found a quiet spot to sit alone, away from the rest of the group. Marinette, who had been observing him, noticed his strange behavior and felt a pang of concern. She sat down beside him, offering a gentle smile as she said, "Hey Luka, is everything okay? You seem a little off today."

Luka glanced up at her, the weariness evident in his eyes, but a small grateful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Hey, Marinette. It's just been one of those days, you know? Everything that could go wrong seemed to go wrong," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Marinette nodded understandingly, her empathy for Luka growing stronger. "I'm sorry to hear that. But remember, it's okay to have bad days. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone," she said softly, offering him a comforting hand on his arm.

Luka felt a warmth spread through him at her words, grateful for her genuine concern. He had always admired Marinette's kindness and compassion, and in that moment, he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. "Thank you, Marinette. That means a lot to me," he said, his voice soft and sincere.

As they sat together in a comfortable silence, the sun began to set over the water, casting a warm glow over the houseboat. The gentle lapping of the waves against the boat provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Luka found himself opening up to Marinette, sharing his frustrations and worries, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders with each word he spoke.

Marinette listened attentively, offering words of encouragement and understanding. The connection between them grew stronger as they shared their vulnerabilities and found solace in each other's company. In that moment, Luka realized that even in the darkest of days, there was always a ray of light shining through - and for him, that light was Marinette.

And as the night drew to a close, with the music of the houseboat fading into the distance, Luka and Marinette found themselves leaning closer, their hearts beating in unison, their bond deepening with each passing moment. And under the starlit sky, amidst the gentle breeze, they shared a moment that would forever change the course of their friendship - and perhaps even their hearts.