#bring on the drama!

[mintaka14]

Welcome to Chapter 9 of Living Arrangements, my Lukanette ML AU fanfic where they were roommates! Thank you for your patience, and now, sit back and hopefully enjoy:

Living Arrangements

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter 9 – Old Friends and Complications

'Cause she don't need umbrellas in a summer rain She could catch the eye of a hurricane in blue jeans and pearls

[I Met a Girl: William Michael Morgan]

The café that Adrien had suggested wasn’t one that Marinette was familiar with. She checked the address, and checked it again before she pushed open the doors. The café was full of hushed, business-like conversations going on over the soft clink of gleaming silverware and tasteful china.

A young woman around Marinette’s age in a starched black and white uniform greeted her with a bright, customer service smile.

 “Welcome,” she said, “and how may I help you today?”

“I’m… uh, meeting someone here,” Marinette said a little uncertainly.

“Of course. Do you have a reservation with us today?”

“Sorry?”

“Your reservation. What name is it under?”

What kind of café needed a reservation?

“… Agreste,” she said, and the waitress’ smile grew more perfunctory. She glanced down at the appointment book in front of her.

“We do seem to have a booking today.” Her gaze swept over Marinette, and lightened as she seemed to reach a conclusion. “You must be here for an interview with Gabriel’s recruitment manager. She’s not here yet, but we’ve reserved the usual table -”

“Actually, I’m meeting Adrien Agreste,” Marinette tried to clarify. The customer service smile grew condescending.

“I’m afraid Adrien Agreste doesn’t usually meet with new hires in person. But you’re welcome to wait until Mlle Garamond arrives.”

“No, I –“

Before Marinette could finish trying to explain, the waitress had turned away to lead her to a reserved table. Marinette gave up the attempt. She shrugged herself out of her jacket, and draped it over the back of the chair, setting her bag beside her as she sat down.

Marinette could hear Tikki rustling around in her bag as she stashed it near her feet, and it was very distracting. Usually, Tikki was content to snuggle down, and maybe play a silent game or two on Marinette’s phone, but the kwami was oddly restless. The bag gave an odd little skip, and tipped over.

Marinette bent to straighten it, and whispered into her bag, “Is everything okay?”

Tikki blinked up at her, almost vibrating. “You’re going to see Adrien again,” she whispered back. “Are you okay?”

“Mademoiselle?” the waitress said from somewhere above her. Marinette’s head slammed into the underside of the table as she jerked upright. When she straightened, rubbing the aching back of her head, the waitress was regarding her with a raised eyebrow and a menu in her hand.

“Would you like to order anything, mademoiselle?”

Marinette fumbled her sketchbook out of her bag and held it up with a nervous little laugh.

"Just… doing a bit of work. I’ll wait for… I’ll wait, thanks.”

The waitress’ eyebrow climbed even higher, but she turned away without a word.

Marinette opened her sketchbook, sparing a grimace in response to Tikki’s wide-eyed look of sympathy from the depths of her bag, and started making notes to distract herself from the whispers and glances around her.

She flipped another page, losing herself in the movement of her pencil, and didn’t notice when the café door chimed and all the subdued conversations in the café seemed to pause for a moment.

A hand drew back the chair opposite her.

“You’re early. That doesn’t seem like the Marinette Dupain-Cheng I remember,” a voice said lightly, and Marinette looked up, startled, into Adrien Agreste’s famous smile.

“Oh my god,” the waitress gasped, sharp over the soft buzz of whispers and recognition that rippled through the café. “It really is Adrien Agreste!”

It was like a spotlight had been switched on, glinting on his golden hair and brilliant, photo-ready smile. Marinette’s practised eye for fashion design couldn’t help sweeping over the lines of the casual suit he was wearing that was anything but casual, and she would have bet that it cost more than her entire wardrobe. It did sit well on him, she had to admit, even if he did look as though a team of stylists had spent hours crafting the perfect look (Summer Catalogue, page five. Cool linens for that casual look, said a sarcastic little voice in her head that sounded like one of the kwamis, and she hastily silenced it).

Marinette blinked, and glanced away, half-expecting the flash of cameras to have followed him in, but all she saw was café patrons watching with varying degrees of avid attention, and the waitress with her wide eyes fixed on Adrien and all traces of supercilious boredom gone. The girl was practically trembling with speechless excitement, and Marinette felt like she was staring at her fourteen-year-old self. Marinette looked away, to find Adrien still smiling down at her, his hand resting on the back of his chair.

He still had that air of open guilelessness that she remembered from the boy she’d known before, but now, on the man he’d grown into, it felt as much of a curated image choice as his suit did.

“Well, we’ve both changed a bit in the last few years,” she said.

“You’ve certainly grown up since I last saw you. You’re looking well,” he said with unmistakable admiration in his voice as he sat down, and Marinette couldn’t help blushing furiously. Back in collège, something like that from Adrien would have reduced her to an incoherent mess. As it was, she dropped her eyes, focusing on the table for a moment. 

“I’m feeling a little underdressed, though,” she admitted. “If I’d known what this place was like, I would have dressed up more. I think I’m the only one wearing jeans here.”

Adrien looked around in mild surprise. “I suppose you are. I know our recruitment manager likes to hold business meetings here because she likes the rhum baba, and I used to come here with Father sometimes when he met with private clients. I remember it as being good.”

The waitress had recovered from her starstruck paralysis, and rustled between the tables towards them with a couple of menus clutched in her hands.

Adrien turned his attention back to Marinette, his gaze raking over her as he said, “You might be the only one wearing jeans here, but no one else could make them look that good.”

“Adrien!” she sputtered, feeling her face burn.

Then he said, “You’re injeanious,” and his professional, perfect smile cracked into a shit-eating grin that was so unlike the Adrien she knew that for one wild second Marinette didn’t know how to respond. She stared at him, and tried to suppress the weird sound between a groan and a snort of laughter that escaped her as his words sank in.

Adrien’s grin grew wider.

“Was that meant to be a pun?” Marinette asked in disbelief. Since when did Adrien Agreste make puns? “That was terrible!”

The waitress flashed her a disparaging look, and then ignored her completely, as she breathed, “Adrien Agreste!” She thrust the menus at him. “I’m your waitress. I’m Josephine. What can I get you? Can I get you anything? Anything you want, just let me know...”

Adrien was still watching Marinette, with a hint of that grin lingering.

“Have you ordered yet?” he asked her. “What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Or they used to have a really good vin chaud here.”

Marinette had a memory of Luka in the kitchen that morning, smiling his slow, sweet smile as he handed her a mug, and his voice a little rough with lack of sleep as he asked, “Coffee, Melody?”

“Tea with lemon would be lovely, please,” she said. She wondered if she was actually going to get the tea. She wasn’t convinced the waitress had actually heard her.

“I’ll have a black coffee, thanks,” Adrien said, hitting the waitress with that dazzling smile.

Adrien settled back into his seat, and he waited until Josephine was gone, his eyes on Marinette. He seemed to be studying Marinette’s face as if he was looking for something, and she shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“Your recruitment manager must come here a lot. The waitress was convinced that I was here for a job interview with Gabriel,” she said to break the awkward silence.

“Gabriel would be lucky to get you.” 

Marinette couldn’t help the dismissive sound she made. “You don’t have to say that to be polite. You don’t even know if my work is any good.”

Adrien’s smile grew warmer. “Don’t forget, I’ve worn your designs. You got Father’s attention back in collège, and believe me, that’s not easy to do.”

“For a kids’ competition,” Marinette scoffed, feeling her cheeks heat up again. “That’s a long way off scoring a position at Gabriel, or any of the fashion houses for that matter.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Adrien shrugged, and glanced up to give the waitress a smile and a murmured thank you as she settled his cup of coffee in front of him and fussed with the placement of the teaspoon and petit fours beside it. “Alya showed me some of the photos from your showcase last year. This is your third year at IFM, isn’t it?”

Marinette nodded faintly. 

Josephine slid a dish of tea in her direction.  Marinette thanked her, and decided not to mention the absence of lemon. She lifted the dish to her lips and sipped the scalding tea carefully.

“So what are you planning to do after that?” Adrien asked, and Marinette responded, but she felt very aware of the waitress hovering around their table with carafes of water and cutlery they didn’t need. Marinette answered Adrien’s questions and talked self-consciously about her plans and possibilities, and tried to ignore that Josephine and half the café were likely listening to every word.

Adrien, on the other hand, seemed sublimely unconcerned by the surreptitious interest around them. He flashed Josephine a smile every time she topped up his already full glass of water, and he leaned in a little closer to ask Marinette about her fashion marketing classes when Josephine finally ran out of reasons to linger and retreated to the café counter.

He knew most of Marinette’s professors when she mentioned them, and when she told a story about one of the guest lecturers who had been particularly brutal, he laughed.

“I don’t know about that,” Adrien said, “but I do know that Father refuses to work with him again.”

Marinette leaned forward, and propped her chin in her hands.

“Father brought him in for a ready to wear line,” he went on, “and they fought over the whole thing from start to finish. Things really blew up, though, when the patterns went out to the manufacturer, and somehow no one spotted that some of the dimensions were out by a factor of ten.”

“No!” Marinette pressed her fingertips to her lips to suppress a horrified snort of laughter.

“Oh, yes. Father blamed Fabian, Fabian blamed my father, and I don’t know which one of them threw the bigger fit about it, but in the end Father threatened to have security fling Fabian into the street if he ever darkened our doors again.”

“The glamorous world of fashion,” Marinette giggled, and Adrien gave an exaggerated sigh.

“The things I’ve seen since I started working with my father.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing since you left Paris? Working at Gabriel?” she asked. “I mean, we know you’re still modelling, obviously –“ It would have been hard to miss - there were still billboards of him all over Paris, and every fashion magazine had him splashed all over the covers. Adrien pulled a wry face that didn’t make him look any less perfect.

“That wasn’t exactly my idea, but it’s good for Gabriel’s profile, according to Father’s PR gurus. And I’ve been shadowing Father in the company, learning more about the business side of things, since I passed the international bac.” He picked up the teaspoon beside his half-drunk coffee, turning it in his fingers.

“And now you’re back in Paris.”

“I’m back to stay,” he agreed.

“It’s good to have you home again,” Marinette said, and Adrien’s green eyes lit up at the polite sentiment. “It’s been too long since we’ve heard from you.”

“Yeah, I know I haven’t been that good at keeping in touch,” he said a little guiltily. “Things have been rather busy the past few years.”

“We were all a bit worried when you just left without a word, and even Nino didn’t know what the story was.”

“It was nothing that exciting,” he said, absently stirring a pattern in his coffee. “Father had been considering going to New York for a while, to oversee a few changes the company was planning to make there, and then… well, a few things happened, and we had to leave for New York pretty quickly. I wanted to say goodbye before we left, but Father didn’t really see any point…” Adrien trailed off, looking uncomfortable for the first time since he’d walked into the café, and Marinette was suddenly very conscious of all the surreptitious eyes watching them, and the ears listening. Over by the counter, Josephine had given up all pretence of doing anything but eavesdropping on their conversation.

Like they always did when Marinette was nervous, a jumble of words crowded into her mouth, and before she could stop herself, she found herself blurting out the first thing that came to her, “At least we knew you hadn’t been abducted by aliens or anything.”

Marinette cringed, but the discomfort in Adrien’s face disappeared. His eyes flicked up to hers with a startled look.

“Aliens?”

“When you left Paris, we knew you probably hadn’t been abducted by aliens, because you were all over the magazine covers, and we saw all the interviews you did,” she ploughed on, and then giggled. “Although Kim did come up with a whole deep fake theory for a while, until Max talked him out of it.”

Adrien stared at her. “I’m almost afraid to ask –“

“The board of directors put it out that you and your father had moved to New York so that no one would find out that they’d locked you both in the basement and replaced you with AI simulants,” she recited glibly.

Adrien’s startled laugh was loud enough to draw attention from everyone in the café. He glanced around apologetically, with that bright golden smile of his that melted all the disapproving looks into indulgent smiles, and he turned back to Marinette.

 “Seriously?” he asked. “Why?”

Marinette was trying to keep a straight face herself as she told him, “Well, Kim couldn’t decide if it was because your father was about to announce a line of clothing so horrendous that it would destroy the company if they didn’t get rid of him, or if it was because he’d come up with a revolutionary new flipper shoe and had to be stopped before foreign agents could steal the designs and weaponise them.”

Adrien started laughing helplessly. “You’re so funny, Marinette.” His laugh faded. “I wish we’d been able to talk like this, the last few years. I’ve missed this,” he said, his green eyes meeting hers, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the boy who’d been so desperate for friends, for school, for something resembling a normal life. And he’d just disappeared one day without so much as a goodbye to any of them except Nino.

 “We missed you, too,” Marinette told him gently. “I know Nino’s organising some sort of a collège reunion party while you’re in Paris.”

“No, I mean –“

“Can I refill your coffee for you?” Josephine asked, materialising beside them.

Adrien’s practised, brilliant smile switched on as he turned to glance up at the waitress hovering at his elbow with a coffee pot in her hand.

“No. No, thank you. I’ll be up all night if I have another coffee now, and I have a photoshoot at the crack of dawn tomorrow,” he said with a charming, self-deprecating roll of his eyes that had Josephine practically swooning. “Although your coffee is nearly worth risking Vincent yelling at me when I turn up with bags under my eyes.”

Josephine was still giggling as she backed away again.

Adrien glanced at Marinette’s empty tea cup once she’d gone. “She forgot your tea.”

“I think you have a fan there,” Marinette said quietly, and Adrien glanced behind him.

Josephine was on her way back to them before he’d even finished turning his head.

“Is everything alright?” she asked eagerly, the words tripping over themselves in a way that felt all too familiar to Marinette. “Can I get you anything?”

“My friend would like another cup of tea, if it’s not too much trouble,” he said.

“No, it’s okay,” Marinette protested, but neither of them seemed to hear her as Josephine spilled out apologies, and Adrien cut the waitress off with another smile.

“We really appreciate the way you’ve looked after us today,” he told her.

“I’m such a huge fan,” she blurted out, and Adrien’s smile grew brighter.

 “And I’m so glad to have the support of fans like you, Josephine. I’d be happy to take a photo with you, if you have a camera handy,” he offered, and Josephine stammered out something before bolting hastily. She came back with a phone in her hand.

Adrien turned that smile on Marinette, one eyebrow lifting.

“Would you mind?” he asked her, and she took the phone while Adrien smiled at the camera and Josephine gazed up at him as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real. Marinette handed back the phone.

“No one would have believed me, if I just told them I met Adrien Agreste,” Josephine sighed happily. “Thank you. I… thank you!” And she disappeared into the back of the café, clutching her phone as if it held something unspeakably precious.

“You still get a lot of that,” Marinette said, quietly enough that no one nearby could hear, as Adrien sat down again. His brilliant smile grew a little wry.

“I’m used to it. Remember the day we hid from that mob that chased us?”

“I remember.”

“It’s not uncommon, although that’s the only time I’ve hidden in a fountain to get away from them,” he teased.

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Hey, it worked. They can be pretty persistent sometimes.”

“That’s why Luka dyed his hair and wears long sleeves when he goes out,” Marinette said, and reached for the empty teacup to hide the fond smile she could feel spreading across her face. She instantly felt silly for pretending to drink tea that clearly wasn’t there.

“Luka?” and Adrien’s brow creased at the unfamiliar name. “Who’s Luka?”

“He’s Juleka’s brother,” she explained, trying not to sound self-conscious. “I moved in with him and Juleka a few months ago.”

Adrien’s frown deepened. “Is he your –“

“Your tea!” Josephine interrupted brightly as she returned with a fresh, steaming cup, but her eyes were on Adrien.

A look of cold annoyance flashed across his face at the interruption, and for a moment the resemblance to his father was uncanny, then it vanished, wiped away by his habitual, charming smile, but Josephine’s hand jerked nervously and the teacup skittered in its saucer with a clatter of china as she put it down.

Marinette barely had time to feel second-hand cringe before the cup tipped, sending the tea spilling down the front of her blouse in a scalding splash. She couldn’t help the faint cry as hot liquid hit her blouse and soaked through the thin fabric, dripping in burning trails down her chest. She hunched over, trying to pull the blouse away from her skin.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Josephine gasped.

Marinette glanced up, her mouth open to respond, but the girl was staring at Adrien, her eyes wide in horror.

Adrien gave Josephine a reassuring smile.

“I’m such a klutz,” she was babbling. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot in front of Adrien Agreste.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “No harm done.”

Marinette glanced down at the spreading stain on her shirt. She had a sudden, unpleasant flash of memory – Adrien, in collège, telling her not to call out Lila’s lies because they weren’t hurting anyone – and she shifted uncomfortably, pushing the moment aside. The waitress wasn’t Lila, and hadn’t deliberately spilt the tea on Marinette.

“It’s fine,” Marinette said wearily. “Accidents happen, I know.”

And Marinette was rewarded with Adrien’s full-wattage smile, but she was too distracted to appreciate it. She took the napkin that Josephine was holding out vaguely in her direction, and patted at the damp brown spot without much success.

“I should go,” she sighed, dabbing at her shirt again. “Maybe if I get this in to soak quickly, I can get the stain out.”

She put down the napkin and reached for her bag, but Adrien stretched out a hand as if to hold her back.

“Oh, no, do you have to? It’s barely noticeable, and it’ll dry soon.”

He was right, it would dry quickly, but that was the problem. Once the stain was dry, it would set beyond much hope of repair. Maybe if she got some bicarb soda and detergent on it, she could still save it… Adrien was saying something.

 “… I’m sure Josephine can bring you another cup of tea, and we can finish catching up.” That famous smile was still turned on her. “I’ll get you a new blouse, it’s the least I can do.”

Marinette didn’t mention that finding a replacement for this particular blouse would be impossible. Josephine was spilling out reassurances to Adrien that she’d replace the tea, bring petit fours on the house, anything he wanted, anything at all …

“It’s okay. I really do have to go,” Marinette apologised, and started to gather up her bag and her jacket, shrugging it on over her soaked blouse. She stuffed her phone into her bag, and rummaged around in the depths under the tangle of keys, tissues and pencils trying to find her wallet, until Tikki silently pushed it into her hand. “It was nice to catch up, though.”

She tugged her credit card out of her wallet, and held it out to the waitress to pay, but before Josephine could take it, Adrien had produced a sleek black visa card.

 “Don’t worry about the bill,” he insisted. “There have to be some advantages to having a company credit card.”

 “Adrien –“ she protested as Josephine froze, with her hand hovering between the two proffered cards. Her anxious gaze shifted from Adrien to Marinette and back again.

Rather than leave the poor girl stuck while she argued the point with Adrien, Marinette put her card back into her wallet, and stuffed it into her bag.          

“Okay,” she gave in, “but next time is on me.”

His smile grew, as if he’d just scored a point. “It’s a deal. I’ll look forward to next time.”

When she brushed a quick bise against his cheek in farewell, Adrien seemed to lean in to it. His hand tightened briefly on her forearm.

 “Until next time,” he told her, and Marinette hurried out the door of the café in a jangle of bells.

~~~~~  

Luka was there when she got back to the apartment, stretched out on the couch and focused on his laptop.

 “You’re home early,” he said, looking up as she came in, and gave her a smile that faded into a look of concern as he caught sight of her blouse. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s just a tea spill,” she tried to say lightly. “It’s not a big deal.”

He was still frowning, as if he wasn’t buying it, but all he said was, “Is there anything I can do? I’ve got to take a load of washing over to the Liberty later anyway –“

Marinette shook her head, and her own smile felt a little crooked. “It’s fine. I’m just going to try soaking it in the bathroom.”

She’d changed into an old t-shirt and was standing over the bathroom basin, anxiously eyeing the blouse soaking in cold water and working a bicarb and detergent paste into the tea stain, when her phone rang. Alya had obviously given up on waiting for a response to the increasingly peremptory string of texts that had been pinging on Marinette’s phone and had decided on the direct approach.

“Well?” Alya’s voice demanded. “Don’t keep me hanging here! How did it go?”

Marinette sighed, and stirred the blouse in the cloudy water. “Do you ever have the feeling you’re cursed?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Look, Alya, I’ve got to go finish washing this tea stain out.”

 “What tea stain?” But Alya had obviously come to her own conclusions, and a sympathetic, if slightly impatient, laugh came through on the other end of the phone. “Girl, you’re hopeless. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Marinette found herself protesting to the sound of the dial tone. Alya must have been already on her way, because it wasn’t long before Marinette heard the doorbell ring. Nothing motivated Alya like the scent of gossip in the water.

The doorbell rang again impatiently, and she heard Luka getting to his feet. She wrung out the blouse to drape it over the towel rail. It would have to do.

She came into the living room just as Luka opened the door, and heard Alya asking him with studied casualness, “Hey, Luka. How’s it going?”

Alya followed Luka up the steps into the living room, and her uncomfortable defensiveness was obvious to Marinette as she came into view. Judging by the way the way Luka’s mouth twitched imperceptibly, it was obvious to him too.

 “Not bad,” was all he said, amusement lurking in his voice. “And you?”

“Oh, good, I’m good.” There was an awkward pause. “If you’re not doing anything, you should come to Nino’s next gig on Friday,” she added abruptly, and Marinette suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the unspoken no hard feelings in Alya’s voice and posture. “You’d probably enjoy it, he’s really good.”

Luka’s easy expression didn’t change, but there was a gleam of humour in the depths of his blue eyes. “I’ll see if I’m free,” he said easily.

Alya abandoned the attempt at pleasantries as she caught sight of Marinette.

“Alright,” she demanded. “Spill. How did the date go?”

“Alya –“ Marinette sighed.

“I know, I know. Not a date. You were having coffee.”

“I didn’t get coffee - it was just a cup of tea,” Marinette protested, flicking a quick glance at Luka as she moved past the couch towards the kitchen, but he’d gone back to frowning at his laptop screen as if he hadn’t heard anything. “I didn’t even have anything to eat with it.”

 “Oh-kay…” Alya said, giving her a bemused look and following on her heels. “Well, whatever it was, stop holding out on me and spill the details. What did he say? What did you say? I assume you can actually talk to him these days. And what was all that cryptic stuff about being cursed?”

At that, Luka shifted and got to his feet with a sigh. His eyes met Marinette’s, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a brief half-smile that didn’t give much away.

 “This paper is giving me hell, so I’m going to go out for a walk, try to clear my head.” He reached for his coat draped over the back of the couch beside him. He shrugged himself into it, and glanced over his shoulder to tell Marinette, “The place is all yours for a few hours.”

“You don’t have to leave for us,” she protested, but he just gave her a quick smile, and headed down the steps, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.

Alya watched him leave, and before the door had even closed properly behind him, she turned back to Marinette with a knowing smirk.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?”

“Who, Luka? Why on earth would he be jealous?”

“Well, he didn’t exactly want to hang around and hear all about your coffee date, did he?”

Marinette levelled a look at Alya. “Or he didn’t want to stay so you could be hostile at him again.”

“Hey, I was perfectly friendly! I invited him to Nino’s gig, didn’t I?” Alya protested. She followed Marinette back into the living room as Marinette scooped up her jacket from where she’d left by the door when she’d come home. “And of course he’s jealous. The guy looks at you like you’re his favourite snack - of course he’s jealous that you just spent the afternoon with Paris’ most famous supermodel and heir to the Agreste empire.”

Marinette stopped in the middle of folding her jacket, and turned to knit her brow at her best friend. Alya had said something at the bar the other night about the way Luka looked at Marinette, but she’d just dismissed that as too many cocktails and Alya reading too much into things.

“Paris’ very single supermodel,” Alya added slyly.

“Oh, but Adrien’s not single,” Marinette cut her off brightly, “not according to the Daily Mail – he’s in a very serious threesome with one of the British royals and that guy from last season’s I’m a Celebrity. And I know how you feel about the Daily Mail’s sources on these things.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Alya grumbled. “But I’m right about this. I know what I’ve seen with my own eyes. You can’t say that’s not reliable –“ Marinette chose not to respond to that  “- and, since we’re talking reliable sources, I’d just like to point out that I know for a fact that the first thing that Adrien did when he got back to Paris was ask me and Nino for your number,” Alya pointed out triumphantly.

“Seriously, it was just catching up with an old friend from collège. I’m not even sure we have all that much in common anymore.”

“You’re both in fashion. You have that in common. You didn’t talk about that?”

“Well, yes, until I ended up with tea all down my blouse and I had to leave,” she said without meaning to, and Alya pounced on the hint of gossip.

“Is that why you were washing out tea stains when I called?” she demanded.

By the time Marinette gave in and told her the details, culminating in getting the cup of tea knocked all over her, Alya was chuckling.

“Oh, girl, only you!” Her laugh became a knowing smirk. “Still klutzing out around Adrien, huh? Nice to know some things never change.”

Marinette sighed. “It really wasn’t my fault this time.”

Alya waved away the protest. “Yeah, yeah, it was the waitress.”

Marinette scooped up her bag, which she’d left by the stairs when she’d come home, and stole a quick look to check that Tikki had managed to sneak away to the bedroom. An odd smell of cheese wafted up from her bag, and she wrinkled her nose. What on earth had Tikki been eating in there? She’d have to clean it later… and all thoughts of weird smells got left aside as she realised what definitely wasn’t in her bag. Marinette scuffled through the mess with increasing agitation while Alya kept talking.

 “- and Nino’s planning to throw that reunion party for Adrien, so -” Alya broke off when Marinette upended everything onto the couch. “Jeez, Marinette, what’s up? Lost your phone or something?”

 “Worse,” Marinette muttered, focused on the assorted junk on the couch. Her lipstick, her spare pens, her wallet, the sheaf of course notes from three days ago were all there, but there was no sign of the one thing she really needed. “My sketchbook. I must have left it at the café –“

That was the last time she knew she’d seen it. She’d been sketching out ideas while she’d waited, and then Adrien had turned up and she’d –

Alya laughed, and said, “Well, isn’t that just the perfect excuse to see Adrien again. Maybe he picked it up for you.”

Marinette glared at her. “Alya, this is serious! That book has all my notes, my sketches for the finals, everything.”

Alya scooped Marinette’s phone up from the litter on the couch, and held it out to her.

“So just call him,” she insisted with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not a big deal, and at least you’ll know if he’s got your sketchbook or not. If he hasn’t got it, then you can panic.”

And, sure enough, there was a message from Adrien that she’d missed while she was washing her blouse, in the middle of Alya’s texts. Marinette ignored Alya’s questioning eyebrow, and tapped out a quick response that had an answer within seconds of hitting send.

“He has it,” she said as she put aside her phone. “I can pick it up tomorrow.”

“And you have another date with Adrien,” Alya said on a note of satisfaction.

“It’s –“

“Not a date,” Alya chimed in, rolling her eyes again.

She didn’t stay long after that, and Marinette was left pacing the apartment, feeling twitchy and unsettled. Between Alya getting into her head about Luka, and a growing feeling of anxiety when her thoughts swung round to her sketchbook and having to go the Gabriel offices the next day to get it back from Adrien, it took her longer than it should have to realise that the noise when she pushed open her bedroom door wasn’t just a manifestation of the agitation in her head.

Tikki was flitting around with unusual energy, and there seemed to be an escalating argument going on. None of the kwamis noticed Marinette.

“There’s sssomething he’ss keeping to himssself. I don’t like thisss at all,” Sass hissed, swaying over the coil of his tail, as Tikki zipped past his head.

“I’m staying out of it,” Roarr yawned, “but I agree with Sass. Something doesn’t smell right.”

“That would be the cheese,” one of the kwamis snickered.

A tiny rubber banana ricocheted off Roarr’s head, and she bared her fangs, snarling at Xuppu as he drew back his arm to launch another one. The second banana caught Roarr between the eyes, and the monkey kwami bounced out of reach as Roarr’s snarl became a low, warning growl.

“I’m sure he’ll be looking for an opportunity to see me again, and fill me in,” Tikki said defensively, just as Fluff tumbled out of the air to land on Marinette’s bed, startling the kwamis clustered there.

“Trussst you to make excussses for him.”

“A tale as old as time,” Fluff announced out of nowhere, “and I should know.”

The little rabbit somersaulted over the edge of the bed, and vanished again. Sass’s forked tongue flickered.

“Sssome people don’t deserve the sssecond chancesss they’ve been given,” he hissed. “And I should know.”

“That was not his fault, and you know that, too. He didn’t have any choice about leaving us-“

“Much asss that cheesemonger itchesss my fangss, I wasssn’t talking about -”

“What on earth is going on?” Marinette finally managed to make herself heard over the rising noise, and everything went quiet. Tikki whipped around guiltily. Marinette eyed the hovering kwami for a long moment, and glanced at Sass on the window sill. His tail was still flicking against the painted wood with an agitation that she’d never seen in him before.

“Does anyone want to explain what’s going on here?”

Before anyone else could answer, Tikki swooped through the air to hover in front of her face.

“It was nothing,” Tikki insisted, her big eyes going wide with an unconvincing innocence. “Just a small disagreement.”

“Who were you talking about?” Marinette asked, directing the question past Tikki at the snake kwami, but Tikki whirled around to intercept Marinette’s attention before Sass could answer.

“We should go out. How long has it been since you transformed? It would be good for you – you’ve been so wound up since we got home,” Tikki suggested, as if she hadn’t just been doing manic little spirals in the air. “You could use a bit of fresh air. You really shouldn’t let yourself get out of practice.”

“Becaussse that’sss what we ssshould be focusssed on right now,” Sass said caustically, and Tikki whirled around to face him, glaring.

Their voices rose, and the other kwamis threw in opinions and unhelpful, inflammatory comments that escalated until the room was full of shouting and Marinette had to clap her hands over her ears. She felt a sudden spike of panic at the thought of what would happen if Luka got back before she could get the kwamis calmed down. There was no way Marinette would be able to explain away the noise that they were all making.

“Enough!” she finally shouted over the top of them, glaring around the room as she flipped her hair back to touch her miraculous earrings. “Do you want Luka or Juleka to walk in on all this? You and me, Tikki, we’re going out, and when we get back we’re all going to have a nice, calm discussion about this that doesn’t involve the neighbours calling the police on me, or having to lie to my roommates, or bananas,” she added sternly as she caught sight of Xuppu out of the corner of her eye, just as he drew his arm back to throw something.

The little monkey hid whatever it was behind his back, and gave Marinette a sheepish grin as she transformed.

At least the streets of Paris felt quieter than her room had, once she swung out over the rooftops. It was good to feel the wind in her face, and focus on the adrenaline rush of every leap, on the way her heart rate sped up in a steady rhythm and her mind moved sharp and fast across the rooftops ahead. Tikki was right about one thing, even if she’d only suggested it to avoid answering Marinette – it had been far too long since she’d gone for a run as Ladybug.

It was an uneventful night down below her in Paris, and things had calmed down in her bedroom by the time Marinette finally landed back through the window. Most of the kwamis had vanished into their various corners and nests, but Sass reared up his head as she came in. The tip of his tail was twitching.

“Did you sssee anyone interesssting?” he asked Tikki, a trace of acid in his tone. She huffed, and flitted away to sulk without answering the question or staying to continue the argument that had started it all.

Marinette eyed Sass.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” she asked.

The little snake turned a thoughtful look in the direction of Tikki’s nest, and said, “Jussst an old argument among usss kwamisss.”

Marinette stared at him, and Sass stared back at her, unblinking. He added slyly, “I hear Luka’ss back.”

As distractions went, it was a pretty effective one, and Marinette also took his subtle reminder that they weren’t alone in the apartment. Even so, she thought for a moment about pushing harder, but when Sass flicked a meaningful glance in the direction of the shelves, she gave up on getting a straight answer from him with all the kwamis listening in from their various hidey-holes and perches, not when it might start off another noisy disruption.

Instead, she listened for the soft sounds that meant that Luka was home again, and working in the living room. She reached for her bedroom door without conscious thought, her suspicions and concerns about the kwamis’ moods temporarily put aside.

Luka had his guitar on his lap, and pages of music scattered like snow-drifts all over the floor. There was an unfamiliar stringed instrument lying on the couch beside him. He was scribbling something on the stack of manuscript, and then let it flutter to the floor to join the other marked pages piling up around him.

The lamp shone on his blue-dyed hair, filtering through the rumpled strands like sunlight falling through deep water, and Marinette was tempted to reach out and tangle her fingers in the soft strands. She wished she could work out how to recreate that effect in fabric. Maybe a watered silk, hand-dyed, if she could get the right blend of shades…

She only realised she’d been lost in staring at him when Luka sighed and straightened, and caught sight of her. Bedroom eyes, Alya’s voice whispered slyly in the back of her mind, and Marinette could feel a blush burning her cheeks. He gave her a soft smile, which didn’t help at all.

“Sorry, was I disturbing you?” he asked quietly, and she shook her head. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Just after midnight,” she said just as quietly.

“That explains why my hand’s so sore, then.” He sighed, and massaged his wrist. When Marinette came further into the room, he shifted a few loose pages out of the way so she could curl up in her usual place beside him on the couch, but she hesitated, suddenly very aware of just how close it would put them. She silently cursed her best friend for getting into her head, leaving her searching for signs of something more in the slow, sweet smile he always gave her.

When she hesitated a little too long, his smile became a question, and she made herself relax into the space beside him.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask before - how did things go catching up with your friend this afternoon?” he asked, and Marinette filled him in on the whole afternoon. She couldn’t help a soft huff of a laugh when she got to the spilled tea.

“The waitress was so busy trying to impress Adrien that by the end of it she’d forgotten I was even there, she was so busy apologising to him –“

“Wait, she was apologising to him, not you?” Luka interjected.

 “Well, I get it. I did far stupider things when I was trying to get his attention back in collège.”

Luka’s brow creased, but all he said was, “Did you manage to get the stain out?”

“Mostly. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wear it again, though…” she trailed off in thought. “Unless, maybe, I can embroider it, or add something…”

She pulled herself back before she could get too side-tracked by creative solutions, but Luka’s frown had melted into a fond smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and didn’t mind at all that her attention had wandered.

She found herself feeling self-conscious again as their eyes met, but there was nothing in the way he was looking at her that she hadn’t seen in the smiles he gave his sister, his mother, or any of the small handful of people he really cared about, and she ignored the tiny pang of disappointment at the thought.

She tilted her head towards the drifts of paper around him. “So what’s keeping you up tonight?” she asked. “Have you got an assignment giving you a hard time?”

He gave the abandoned instrument on his other side a rueful look. “I’m supposed to be practising for my world music performance assessment in November, but I keep getting distracted. I’ve missed writing music for so long, it’s hard to ignore the inspiration when it happens.”

“That’s some pretty powerful inspiration,” she teased him.

“Yeah,” he said, setting his hands on the strings of his guitar again, and picking out a soft, slow run of notes. “It’s pretty irresistible.”

He dipped his head over his guitar. The fall of his hair hid his eyes for a moment, but the light of the lamp cast a warm heat across his cheekbones that almost looked like a blush.

“This is a side of you that I haven’t seen before,” Marinette said without thinking, and he raised his head to give her a look of mild curiosity. She ploughed on, “I mean, I knew you were talented, I love listening to you when you play or sing, but I’ve never seen you so…”

“So?” he prompted gently when she trailed off.

“In your element. It’s really –“ hot, a suggestive little voice in her mind provided, and she tried to ignore it “- good to see.”

His mouth quirked up. “Now you know how I feel, watching you in action.” His fingers plucked out a fragment of a tune that Marinette had never heard before.

“All of the warp and the weft the world sends her, she gathers them into her hands,” he sang softly, “and sees something beautiful, sews something beautiful, out of whatever the world sends her way…”

Luka glanced up from his guitar, and there was something intense in those deep blue eyes, dark as the ocean, focused on her.

This was…

…oh.

Surely there was no mistaking that look in his eyes.

A profound thrill shivered through her. Marinette could feel the heat rising through her, leaving every inch of her burning and tingling, and there was an electric moment when it felt like he might finally lean in, close that distance, and kiss her.

Marinette’s breath caught at the thought.

The moment broke with the soft sound. Luka shifted, putting aside his guitar. He got to his feet, and stretched.

“Is it too late for a coffee?” he asked, and Marinette blinked. “I think I need some more caffeine.”

~~~~~

The soft, startled intake of her breath brought Luka back to the moment, and Marinette staring up at him through the dark fringe of her lashes, her beautiful blue eyes wide and overwhelmed.

Luka set aside his guitar and stood up, saying something as casually as he could manage about getting coffee, to give her some space.

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Marinette got up and followed him into the kitchen, and he knew a strong flash of relief that at least he hadn’t freaked her out too badly with the intensity of what he was feeling, and what had poured into that brief snatch of the song she’d inspired. Jules had always said he could be a little much when the muse took hold of him.

She watched while he started the kettle and got a couple of mugs out. “You’re going to be up all night,” she told him.

“Yeah, I don’t think sleep is on the cards tonight,” he said ruefully, and he glanced down at Marinette, hoping his face didn’t give away the heat and want flooding through him. “Did you want anything? Assuming you’re not over hot drinks by now,” he joked gently.

“I’d better stick to a decaf, if you’re offering. And it was tea, not coffee,” she pointed out. “Coffee stains would have been easier to get out.”

“Really? Interesting – I would have thought that tea stained less.”

She was shaking her head authoritatively, the intense moment between them dissipating under the kitchen light. “More mess to start with, but the tannin marks are worse. I’ve had a lot of experience with spilling stuff on myself.” The air of exasperation that went with that statement was adorable, and Luka hid a smile.

He dropped a scoop of ground beans into the filter pot and poured the boiling water over it, and then turned to get the rarely used jar of decaf instant coffee out of the cupboard. Marinette giggled at the face he pulled as he put a spoonful of granules in her mug and topped it up from the kettle before handing it to her. The smell of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, and he leaned his forearms on the counter across from Marinette while he waited for his to be ready.

“Sounds like you should stick to drinking water, next time you’re on a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” she repeated, her expression becoming a little disgruntled. “It was just coffee with an old school friend.”

“Where you didn’t drink any coffee,” he couldn’t help teasing her, happy to see the disgruntlement vanish as she pulled a face at him. Her eyes dropped to focus on the mug in her hands, and an odd little quirk caught the corner of her mouth.

“You’ve spoiled me for anyone else’s coffee,” she said without looking up. 

He didn’t dare hope that she meant it as anything more than a joke, but he couldn’t help the stupid grin that he hid behind his own mug. He raised it to take another swallow, and stopped, caught by a stray wisp of music.

There was something in that… He found his fingers tapping the cadence against the side of his mug, the riff that would go with them playing as clear as a bell in his mind, and he groped blindly for something to write them down.

Marinette must have understood the sudden mood that gripped him, because she silently pushed the shopping list towards him and handed him a pen. Luka scribbled down the random line of music in his head, the potential lyrics scrawled under the reminder to get eggs and milk that was already there, and Marinette giggled.

~~~~~

Marinette rinsed out her mug, and left Luka to his music. She knew, from her own experience, that he would be consumed by the creative fit that had overtaken him for the rest of the night, and she took her pyjamas into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. He was still bent over the lyrics that he’d begun on their shopping list when she passed him on her way to bed, and she smiled to herself as she closed her bedroom door behind her.

In the darkness, she could hear the kwamis, the soft little snorts and noises that meant they were asleep, and she climbed into bed without turning the light on so she wouldn’t disturb them. Only Sass’ golden, slitted eyes gleamed in the shadows, watchful and awake.

“Sass?” she whispered, and those eyes turned her way.

“Yesss, Marinette?”

“Are you going to tell me who you were talking about this afternoon? I need to know if there’s a problem.” She couldn’t help feeling a little hurt, couldn’t help the small mutter that slipped out, “I thought you could trust me.”

There was a long silence, as if Sass was weighing his words, then he said quietly, “You are our Guardian, our Ladybug, and our friend… but you know, better than mossst, that sssome sssecrets are not oursss to tell.”

There was an even longer silence, and Marinette stared up into the dark shadows of her ceiling.

“What I will sssay,” came the soft hiss in the gloom, “isss that you are a truly inssspiring Ladybug, but never forget that Ladybug iss jusst a pale reflection of who Marinette isss.”

Sass’ observation seemed completely off the subject, but Marinette knew the snake kwami well enough to know that in his own way, he was answering the question she’d asked. She frowned as she tried to puzzle out his meaning through a growing fog of exhaustion.

“Trussst your insstinctsss… and trussst in thossse friendsss who make you more Marinette, not lessss.”

Marinette found herself turning her head to glance at the dark form of the mannequin with Luka’s half-finished coat pinned to it. The beading on it caught a stray hint of street light through a gap in the curtains, and gleamed like a smile in deep blue eyes.

“Funny,” she murmured drowsily. “Luka said something like that the other day - asked me if I’d really want to love someone who would want me to be less.”

There was a quiet, sibilant chuckle in the darkness. “I alwaysss sssaid your musssician wass a wissse sssoul.”

Her musician. Oh, she wanted him to be.

And maybe, just maybe… if she hadn’t read too much into that moment on the couch… maybe he wanted that too.

“Sssleep, missstressss,” the soft voice whispered. “We will not let you ssstand alone again, I ssswear it. Sssleep now, and dream sssweet dreamsss.”

~~~~~

“So, it turns out Marinette’s still a complete space case around Adrien,” Alya said in fond exasperation, and she finally had Lila’s full attention. She’d been starting to think that Lila wasn’t listening to a word she was saying, and the way Lila was tapping her fingernails on the tabletop was getting a bit annoying.

“What happened?” Lila asked, pausing her persistent tapping for a moment, and Alya filled her in on Marinette’s coffee date with Adrien.

“Although she swears it wasn’t a date,” Alya added, with an amused roll of her eyes. “And then, of course, she ended up with tea all over her, and had to leave early, but at least that worked in her favour for once – she was so distracted, she ended up leaving her sketchbook behind, and Adrien picked it up for her. So she’s meeting up with him again today to get it back.”

“Clever,” Lila murmured, in an odd, flat tone.

Alya snorted at that. “Oh, come on, romantic scheming has never been one of Marinette’s strong points, you know that.”

“She always did have a thing for celebrities,” Lila said a little sourly, almost as if she’d forgotten that Alya was there, and started to drum her nails on the table again.

“She always had a thing for Adrien,” Alya snapped back, her hands going to her hips. It was one thing when she teased Marinette about falling for famous hot guys, but Lila didn’t quite sound like she was joking. “What’s with you, Lila? You’re not upset about Marinette and Adrien, are you? I mean, you were the one who broke it off when you were dating Adrien, and that was years ago.”

There was a long pause, broken only by the irritating sound of Lila’s nails.

“No, Marinette and Adrien deserve each other,” Lila said, still with that sour note in her voice, but then she met Alya’s frown and gave her a wide smile. Alya beamed back in relief.

She should have known that Lila wouldn’t be so petty as to begrudge Marinette a chance at happiness with Adrien. And, after all, it had to be a little weird for her, after the way she’d said Gabriel Agreste had fired her as his model and blacklisted her when she’d broken up with Adrien.

Lila stopped drumming her nails. Her smile grew wider. “Of course, they’re perfect for each other, much more than someone like Luke Stone.”

And of course, they were. An up and coming talented young fashion designer, and a supermodel whose father was the founder of one of Paris’ most prestigious fashion houses? They were made for each other.

“We should go get her for a girls’ night out tonight,” Lila was saying. “Find out how things went with Adrien. She lives near here, doesn’t she?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alya vetoed firmly. “She’s not exactly your biggest fan, and things didn’t go well at the bar the other night – you know how stubborn Mari can be sometimes.” She made a sympathetic face, but Lila was frowning into space and didn’t seem to notice. “And anyway, I promised her I wouldn’t interfere in her love life.”

“So you’re just going to let her throw away her second chance with Adrien and get sucked in by someone like Luke Stone?”

Alya could understand Lila’s frustration, but she knew Marinette best.

“I think we just need to let Marinette see it for herself at this point. And maybe Luka’s not as bad as all that.”

Luka’s air of mild amusement might irritate Alya, and all the more so because she had the deep-seated feeling that he was amused by her, but she was big enough to admit that he’d been a perfect gentleman to Marinette since they’d moved in together.  

“Those tabloid reports can’t all be true,” Alya told Lila, “and maybe he’s settled down since you knew him.” Maybe Marinette had settled him down. He certainly looked at her as if he was completely besotted.

Judging by the way Lila pursed her lips, she didn’t agree, but Alya knew this was for the best.

“Besides,” Alya went on, thinking of how keen Adrien had sounded when he’d asked her for Marinette’s phone number, and a touch of smugness crept into her voice, “I don’t think we’re going to have to do anything.”

[evermorebytaylorswift]

i’m so glad she kept the dramatic intro to look what you made me do because it’s really the level of theatrics that the song deserves

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

do you ever think that the ending of six hundred strike, actually added to the poseidon & athena beef? like i can just imagine them both in beds in apollo's olympus infirmary, just arguing with/at each other! meanwhile poor apollo is just tying to heal them both.

athena: *ranting* i've been odysseus' mentor/friend since he was a teenager! and he still didn't listen to me!

athena: i told him to put his emotions aside but noooooo, he had to let the cyclops live!

apollo: athen-

poseidon: are you forgetting he literally stabbed me? repeateDLY? WITH MY OWN TRIDENT?

apollo: poseid-

athena: *ignoring poseidon and continuing her rant* ruTHlesNEsS iS meRCy UpOn OUrseLVEs. isn't that what you said?!

poseidon: well yeah, BUT HOW WAS I TO EXPECT THAT SAD WET CAT OF A MAN WOULD BE FILLED WITH SOME FORM OF DIVINE RAGE?

apollo: please you two are gonna open your stitche-

athena: oh you deserved it. you literally showed the man his island before trapping him AND THEN you started THREATENING his wife and son? oh that was your final mistake.

poseidon: whatever! so much for you calling him a warrior of the mind. he's a monster!

athena: *wipes tear away* i know, im so proud.

apollo: *tired of their bickering & now glowing in anger* please for "dad's"sake will you two just shut up and let me heal you both?!

poseidon & athena: *shuts up immediately* o-ok

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I know those eyes.

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[bixels]

Hot to the Touch

(Sunset x Thea)

[dreamofcamelot]

Thank you for all the lovely comments on this little project!! Here’s some more pictures of them

They went on a little garden excursion hunting trip 🌿

Even in this universe Arthur has a chamber Merlin has to take care of (rip)

“My friend manservant asked for no pickles!”

They’re holding their little paws…….

[wiihtigo]

cant trust anyone these days

[avernusreject]

[houseswife]

infinitely funny that wilson turned vegetarian while house was in prison to show that he’s moving on with his life and is capable of making personal changes that don’t revolve around his boybestfriend situationship but then the MINUTE they reunite he’s like “let’s get dinner! I’m craving MEAT 😋😋’. what kind of symbolism is this. I’m going to say a slur

[akakumoeteru]

"Have you chosen a name yet?" "Lan Yuan. Lan Sizhui."

[jasontoddsgaythoughts]

I just think a holiday romcom movie starring these four would heal me a bit

[theminecraftbee]

ren being the one to say “scar is basically a little child, he needs to be entertained” and suggesting the permits be put up in a bet is REALLY FUNNY. ren and scar truly are each other’s narrative foils. only ren truly understands “if the bit is funny enough scar will join”. its only ren that also understands “you can trap people in a bit if you roleplay hard enough at them; if you play a part scar will join, just like me”. it’s only that ren doesn’t understand that scar will win when it’s funniest and ren loses when it’s funniest. all of this is to say: trying to trap scar into a volleyball-based gamble will 100% work scar will see agreeing to do a bet about the terracotta permits is the funniest option and go with it, but given the track record people have with “gambling against scar”, I suspect big t may be biting off more than they can chew,

[gunsatthaphan]

how it started // how it's going

[bigdsgirl]

nothing beats a supernatural being falling in love, clutching his chest and saying "what the FUCK is this FEELING"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Gaslighter? I hardly know her!

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[ohshinytrinketsmine]

Pit Babe Season 2