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huge-enthusiast · 3 years

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MIRACULOUS FIC RECOMENDATIONS!! (Part 2)

You can find part 1 here.

The first one was really popular! So I decided to make a second part.

The rules are the same:

All of the fics will be rated Teen and up audiences or lower. Also if I don’t put the author’s tumblr is because they didn’t put it in the fic or/and I couldn’t find it.

The only thing that changes is that I would be putting the pairing in the description of the fic.

Without further ado...

Written in the Stars by Boogum (@botherkupo here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Marichat and Adrienette.

He was the god of destruction. She was a princess whose kingdom had been prophesied to fall. To save her people, she became his wife. To save him, she would have to do the impossible. The castle has secrets, the gods are watching, and time is running out.

Chapters: 37/37

TW for mild violence.

Arrange marriage, God AU. While I'm making this list, I still haven't finished the fic, but I had to recommend it because is THAT good. The way I gasped out loud while reading some of the plot twists. The worldbuilding is so good, and even if you aren't into AUs that deviate a lot from cannon like me, I 100% reccomend it.

Need a Lift? again by Boogum.

Pairing: DJWifi

Getting stranded on a foreign planet sucked. Luckily for Nino, his rival was willing to give him a lift home. Unluckily for Nino, she was beautiful and funny and he might just be in love with her.

Chapters: 1/1

Space Bounty Hunter AU! Really sweet and funny. If you are into flustered!Nino then this fic is for you.

hey, you by peachcitt (@peachcitt here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

“Have you ever had a dream about someone that changes the way you think of them?”

or Adrien has a dream about Marinette.

Chapters: 1/1

Okay so, peachcitt is one of my favorite ml writers. Everything that they write is sooo good y'all, and i'm already a sucker for adrienette, so I cannot recommend this fic (or any of theirs) enough.

double dare again by peachcitt (I told ya!)

Pairing: Ladrien (with lots of sided ladynoir)

“Don’t ever do that again,” Marinette says, maybe a little too emphatically, and Adrien looks at her, his expression quiet. His cheeks, Marinette notices, are a little red.

“But I wanted to save you,” he says.

or Ladybug and Adrien can't seem to stop running into each other. (whether that is on accident or on purpose is nobody's business but their own, of course).

Chapters: 30/30

This was a ladrien june fic! Every chapter corresponds to the day's prompts but it also continues a story. If that doesn't make you want to read it then I don't know what it will. I fear fanfic writers, they're insane.

(not) so much by therentyoupay (@therentyoupayfanfiction here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Marichat and adrienette

(The claws are sharp, but the host of Destruction—for all of his loudmouth chaos and lack of reserve—is paradoxically careful.)

Chapters: 1/1

In which Chat Noir pays a visit not long after Marinette has made a pretty difficult decision, and they accidentally make a routine.

Prompt: Marinette gives Chat a hickey. Adrien has a suspiciously similar looking hickey the next day at school...

Gotta be honest with y'all, I did not expect this fic to be as good as it is. The adrienette has everything a stablished!Marichat should have. Marinette conflicted with her feelings? Check. Adrien being a hot mess bc That's My Girlfriend But She Doesn't Know That? Check. Them being absolute idiots? Check. It's good!

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News (Your Lips Is The Only Cure I Could Use) by BreG21.

Pairing: Adrienette

Rainwater sloshed up from the pools they had made on the sidewalk and coated his jean pants with every step he took. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He sniffed away some of the water that dribbled down his matted head. "Yeah?"

He paused as if to consider his words while Adrien stared down at him, so lost. "You weren't wrong when you thought you knew. A part of you wanted it to be her, but it was too perfect, you let the illusion fool you because how would you get that lucky. But trust me, Adrien. You weren't wrong."

He wasn't wrong? What was he not wrong about?

You weren't wrong. You want it to be her.

And it finally clicked as a small gasp wisped past his lips. He wasn't wrong.

In which, Plagg falls ill, and with Fu gone and Ladybug being the guardian now, has to go find her civilian self-even with the knowledge that she might not like that-is shocked to realize that even with having the kwami that was supposed to embodied the very being of bad luck, Adrien could conclude the very opposite of what he had thought for so long.

He was so very lucky.

Chapters: 1/1

I screamed so hard while reading this fic. It's just one of those who gets the characters right. Do you like a good reveal? Go read this now.

Operation Mega Sleepover by InTheWild (@smellerbeee here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

When Alya and Nino drop out of their long awaited mega-sleepover at the last minute, it leaves Marinette and Adrien alone together for the night. An Adrinette one-shot with lots of fluff and sleepover shenanigans.

Chapters: 1/1

I just,,, I love adrienette fluff so much,,, I love them,,,

You, Me & A Little Bit Of The Future by joonapeach.

Pairing: this is a fortunate case of all lovesquare shenanigans™

Marinette expects some disaster on her first outing alone with Adrien.

She just doesn't expect that disaster to be her future self passing off a baby for her to take care of with Adrien.

(Alternatively... two idiots obliviously in love cooing over their daughter while acting like they have no idea whose kid this is.)

Chapters: 1/1

I think the description says anything that it needs to be said. It's really sweet and funny and I love how they just change their minds so quickly and get emo for literally nothing. Peak shakesperean dumbasery.

The entire Marry That Girl series by Miraculous_Max (Maximilian_Alexander).

Pairing: Adrienette

Let’s say Marinette has a special sketchbook. This sketchbook is filled with drawings of their future house, of Adrien as an adult in multiple occupational settings, of Marinette and Adrien’s wedding, and most importantly, their future children.

Let's say Adrien found this sketchbook.

Works: 8 (All are 1/1 chapters)

Just realized how this list exposes me as number 1 adrienette sucker... oh well. I love how Adrien doesn't feel weirded out by the intensity of Marinette's crush. He likes it! He's as weird and romantic as her! That's one of the reasons I love the lovesquare so much and it makes me happy to see that everyone is in the same boat with me.

Strenght by 11JJ11.

Pairing: Adrienette

Marinette knew she was much stronger than she looked thanks to being a hero. So when her class had an arm wrestling contest she knew that she could beat all of them with ease, but she wasn't expecting anyone else to come close.

Chapters: 1/1

Good ol' accidental reveal feat. the entire class shenanigans. I, once again, screamed for an adrienette fic. Who could've thought.

Super Fan by Taliax.

Pairing: Ladrien

It was a good thing Alya was holding the phone and not her, because it would have slipped from her fingers and shattered. How had she not noticed? She had been there, and somehow she’d missed her crush looking at her like she was an angel sent from heaven.

Forget the perfume ad. This picture was going to be her new desktop.

(In which Marinette realizes that she and Adrien might both be obsessive fans.)

Chapters: 1/1

Canon divergent from after Gorizilla. They're so dumb. That's my opinion on this fic.

How to Kiss Your Crush in Five Minutes or Less also by Taliax.

Pairing: Ladrien

He just needed to know if Ladybug needed Chat Noir. He didn't expect to learn just how much she wanted Adrien.

This would be the best five minutes of his life, if he didn't expect her to forget it.

Chapters: 1/1

CW for making out.

Set during Desperada. I promise there's a happy ending. Also Luka is there for some reason, felt really bad for him.

Laying Down the Rules: The Gabriel Agreste Clauses by LadyKae

Gen

Adrien leaves the manor on a dark and stormy night and seeks sanctuary at the only place he feels safe: The Home of the Dupain-Cheng Family. When Sabine learns why her dear boy is fleeing to her home in the middle of the night, she makes a personal visit to one Gabriel Agreste.

There's more rules in play, but not for Adrien and Marinette.

Chapters: 1/1

This is just Sabine going to beat the fuck out of Gabriel and it's really satifying ngl

4am. by hannieks

Pairing: post-reveal lovesquare

In which Adrien has the cat tendency to wake up their owners at stupid o'clock, and Marinette just wants to sleep. Cuteness ensues.

Chapters: 1/1

Really short but really sweet. If you like Adrien acting like a cat then you would like this.

Can I Date You(r Character)? by midnightstarlightwrites (@midnightstarlightwrites here on tumblr!)

Pairing: Adrienette

Adrien turned to her, something unreadable in his gaze. “Are you ok with this?” he asked.

And what a loaded question that was. Was she ok with it? Was she ok with the one guy she couldn’t seem to get over in real life kissing her in a game of Dungeons and Dragons? When she put it like that, it seemed a bit silly to get so worked up.

It was just a game...right?

She was ok with it, right?

“Sure,” she lied. “I’m ok with it.”

When Adrien's character falls in love with Marinette's, they decided to date in-game. What could go wrong?

Chapters: 7/?

THIS ONE IS SO CUTE. You want to scream??? Read this.

two idiots and a hamster by Boogum (again) and carpisuns (@carpisuns here on tumblr)

Pairing: Adrienette

How do you hide your superhero identity from your roommate? (spoiler alert: badly)

Chapters: 5/?

Once @anna-scribbles described this fic as "is literally the closest i’ve ever seen a fic come to matching the energy of canon", and I couldn't have described it better.

And that's all for now! Next time I will probably make an only DJWifi list since I've been treating them so dirty lol.

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

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can i be gentle?

Words: 7.1k

Relationships: Jon & Tim, Tim & Martin

Tags: Canon Divergence, Tim Lives, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Post-Unknowing, Injury Recovery

Warnings: suicidal thoughts/ideations, blood, injury, hospitals and hospitalization, survivor's guilt, body horror, minor gore, gun and knife violence, mentions of death, mentions of canon-typical worms, implied child abuse, meat, alcohol, swearing, crying, smoking

Ao3 link in source

Tim aches. It’s full-body, radiating through his arms and back and legs, and he wishes more than anything that he could go to sleep, to chase away the pain for at least a little while. It feels like he’s been hit by a bus.

Or been on the receiving end of several kilos of C4 igniting all at once. But that metaphor’s a bit too on-the-nose, in his opinion.

He should be dead. He should be dead.

(Does he wish he were dead? He hadn’t cared, in those few moments of clarity before he pushed the button on the detonator and the colors solidified into black nothingness, whether or not he would wake up when the smoke cleared. It’s hard to tell. He’d attached so much of himself to revenge, before, when it was easier than feeling everything else bubbling up underneath, and now that it’s been ripped away from him, he doesn’t know what emotion should be filling the gap. Probably relief.

He doesn’t feel relieved.)

The nurse is speaking to him. Her lips are moving, but he can’t hear her. His ears ring and ring and ring, and it sounds like spirling, mocking laughter.

They do some tests. Blast-induced hearing loss, the pamphlet they give him proclaims. Prognosis is good. Most patients recover in 6 weeks. Hearing aids can help with high frequencies.

His ears ring and ring and ring, and he’s alive.

He’s alive.

Jon is not.

“It’s because of him, you know.”

Martin startles badly at Tim’s voice. Tim wonders if it had been too loud; the ringing in his ears is incessant, and every word spoken sounds as if it’s coming from a very, very far distance. He moves a bit further into the room that they’ve placed Jon in, his hands shaking where they grip the wheels of the wheelchair they’d given him. Hard to walk when your leg is shattered. And some ribs as well.

Martin says something, Tim thinks, as he’s turning. His eyes are wide and rimmed with red, and he’s looking at Tim expectantly. Tim sighs, then winces as the motion sends tendrils of pain through his ribcage. “I can’t hear you, Martin. Either speak up—way, way up—or just… move your lips more or something. I don’t care.”

“What?” Martin enunciates, and it’s so ridiculous, Tim wants to cry.

He answers anyway.

“Me. Being here. I’m alive because… because of him.”

It was stupid, thinking he could protect Tim from an entire building collapsing on top of them. But his hand had gripped Tim’s wrist and he’d pulled him to the floor and he’d covered Tim’s body with his own, so when the shock wave had hit, Jon had gotten the worst of it.

Tim refuses to feel guilty about it. He does anyway. Because they’d argued, and Jon had stalked him, and Tim had cultivated his anger and fear into a simmering ember deep in his chest, but at the end of the day, Tim wasn’t supposed to survive.

Jon was.

Tim swallows, hating the bitter taste in his mouth, and says, “Do you… do you think he’s going to wake up?”

Martin says something, too softly for Tim to hear. His mouth twists into something small and pained, and he looks at the floor.

It’s answer enough.

Tim doesn’t ask again.

They arrest Elias a few hours later, after Martin’s collected himself enough to bring his plan to completion. Tim’s only regret is that he isn’t able to see the look on Elias’s face as he’s dragged away.

Knowing Tim’s luck, he’d probably have just looked smug.

The name Peter Lukas crosses Martin’s lips, spelled out in exaggerated motions when he visits Tim again. Tim thinks, absurdly, of the hydra. Cut off one head, two grow back.

Lukas probably won’t be better. Knowing their luck, he’ll be much worse. But Tim thinks of the way Melanie had shaken after she’d come out of Elias’s office, of the haunted look in Martin’s eyes when Tim had asked how his plan went, and can’t find it within himself to care.

They release him from the hospital with a hefty prescription of pain meds, small plastic hearing aids tucked in each ear, and a thick folder of discharge papers. Martin’s there when they do; the bags under his eyes are dark and smudged, and he nods mechanically as the nurses talk to him, outlining Tim’s care regime for the next few weeks. His eyes keep flicking to the side, to the corridor that leads to the long-term care section of the hospital. Wordlessly, Tim reaches over and takes Martin’s hand in his, giving it a single squeeze before holding it tightly.

Martin lets out a breath through his nose and squeezes back.

“Do you want me to, er. To take you back to yours?” Martin asks once they’re out, his voice on the softer side of muffled and overlaid with that constant ringing but audible enough now that he doesn’t have to shout.

Tim feels something almost like embarrassment curling in his stomach. “I, uh. I don’t have a place anymore.” Tim drums his fingers on his thighs, looks at the ground, and says, “I canceled my lease. About a week before we left for Great Yarmouth.”

There’s silence between them—or at least, as close to silence as Tim can get right now. Tim thinks Martin says something, a word or two brushing up against the edges of what the hearing aids allow him to hear, but he can’t grasp any of it. So, Tim looks up at Martin, at the pinched, pained expression on his face, and says, “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Martin says bitterly. “That you never expected to come back? Yeah, I got that part. I even got why, you know? Doesn’t make it better, though. I didn’t want to lose you, Tim.” Martin pauses, then says, so quietly Tim can barely hear it, “I didn’t want to lose anybody.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. But that’s not how this works. We were never going to all survive. Everything is fucked, and it still is, and it always will be.

“I’m sorry,” he says and finds he means it. Then, to clarify: “For hurting you. And… and for Jon.” He doesn’t elaborate on that point. He doesn’t know what he would say even if he tried. “But I’m not sorry for going, and I’m not sorry for pressing that button. If I would have died, I wouldn’t have been sorry for that either.”

“Right,” Martin says slowly. “But you didn’t. And the Circus is gone now, so do you…?”

“Do I still want to kill myself?”

Martin winces.

“Hey, your question, not mine,” Tim says, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. After a moment, his hands drop back to his lap, and he gives a small shrug. “Don’t know. I knew I would do what I needed to in order to destroy the Circus, and I did. Thought I would die in the process, but I didn’t. I’m still trapped in the world’s shittiest job, and I don’t really…”

Tim shrugs again. “I don’t know,” he repeats. Then, because it feels true: “It was never… it was never the dying bit I was chasing, you know. I didn’t do this because I thought it would be a good way to get killed. I did it for Danny, and that’s it. Plain and simple. So if you’re asking if I want to die, the answer is no. But I can’t guarantee that I won’t make the same decision again if I have to.”

Martin’s quiet for a long moment. Then, calmer than Tim expects, he says, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Tim echoes. Then, with a levity that only feels slightly forced: “I suppose it’s back to your place, then. Just be sure to buy me dinner first.”

Martin doesn’t smile at that like he used to, but his face does soften a bit. His voice is lighter when he says, “Oh, I will. Within your dietary restrictions, that is. Which means no alcohol.”

Tim groans. “You’re no fun.”

“Uh huh.”

They begin the commute back to Martin’s flat, and the atmosphere between them grows more lighthearted than it’s been in months. Tim feels something warm and familiar curl in his chest, and he realizes just how much he’s missed this. It’s not quite easy conversation, not like it used to be, but it’s nice all the same.

Tim’s ears ring, and his entire body aches, and he still feels a numbness in his core in the shape of suspicious glances and calliope music and a face he can’t remember, but for the first time in a long, long time, he allows himself to smile.

Tim doesn’t visit Jon often. At first, it’s the guilt, acute and cloying and weighing him down. Then, it’s old hurt and stale anger, resurfacing and driving away any passing thought of Jon that isn’t tinged with bad memories and broken trust. After that, it’s just habit.

It also hurts, if he lets himself admit it. To see Jon lying there, motionless and clad entirely in white, the heart monitor attached to him reading out a constant horizontal line even as his eyes move in small, jerky motions behind his eyelids.

See? a part of him whispers. He’s not human. Maybe he never was. Maybe he was always a monster, and you just never noticed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

A newer part of him, one that gets more prominent by the day, recognizes that even if Jon isn’t human anymore, he never would have chosen this. This stasis, this half-death. Not what came before, either. That part of him remembers the way Jon’s hand had gripped his tightly as they’d opened that trapdoor, and how it had continued to do so even as the worms had begun to bite into their skin. He’d tried to protect Tim then, too, putting himself between Tim and Jane Prentiss. For all the good it did, when the worms began to come from all directions. But Tim remembers the way the terror and pain in Jon’s eyes had been tinged with sadness, with a silent apology as he gripped Tim’s hand hard enough to bruise and they both accepted that this was it.

It hadn’t been, in the end. And now it is, with Jon all-but-dead and Tim still here, wheeling his way into Jon’s hospital room for the first time in weeks.

He’s halfway in before he realizes he’s not alone.

“Oh,” he says. “I… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Martin lets out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Where else would I be?” he says, and it’s tinged with something bitter and broken that takes Tim a bit off-guard. It’s become almost routine now, for Martin to visit Jon, and usually, he comes back looking drained but otherwise fine. Sometimes, when Tim asks him for status updates on our resident medical mystery, Martin even manages a small smile and responds, still dreaming.

Martin scrubs a hand across his face, and Tim realizes belatedly that he’s crying.

“Martin?” Tim says carefully, moving a bit closer to where Martin’s sitting. “Are you… did something happen?”

“No,” Martin says, his voice catching in a way that indicates that something very much did happen. “It’s fine.”

“Is it…?” Tim pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is it about Jon?”

Martin’s laugh this time is more like a whimper. “Nope, he’s- he’s the same as always. Still asleep.”

Tim moves closer but doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks rhythmically in the background, and he waits. Patience has never been his strong suit, but it’s been something that’s been required of him as of late, and he’s getting better at it.

He likes to think he’s getting better at a lot of things.

Martin doesn’t speak again for a few minutes. He stares at his hands where they rest just shy of one of Jon’s, his fingers restless against the sheets, coming up occasionally to fiddle with the thin black ring that rests on the middle finger of his right hand. Then, so quiet Tim almost can’t hear it, he says, “My mother died today.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says. They’re empty words, but they’re better than the good riddance and about time and you’re better off without her sitting on the back of his tongue, begging to be released. He doesn’t think they would be appreciated right now, no matter how true they might be.

“Yeah,” Martin says. He’s still staring at his hands. “They called me a few hours ago. She… she passed away in her sleep. Natural causes. From- from her illness.” He falls silent for a few moments, his fingers twisting in the sheets. Then: “I… I think I should be sad?”

Tim studies Martin’s face—the tear tracks down his cheeks, the unhappy set to his mouth, the way he’s shaking ever so slightly where he sits. His face is one of grief, but Tim doesn’t ask. He waits for Martin to continue, and after a moment, Martin says, “She was the only family I had left. She- she was my mother. I took care of her, I- I did my best to be a- a good son.” He takes in a shaky breath, curls his hands into fists, and says, “I haven’t seen her in months, you know. I- I visited at first, but she… she never wanted to see me. So I just stopped going. I’d call, every Saturday, but it was the same every time. She’s resting. She doesn’t feel up to talking right now. Call later, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Finally, Martin looks at Tim, and the guilt in his eyes is so acute Tim can feel it cut through him to his core. “I should be sad that she’s dead, but… but all I can feel is relief. And that hurts. I- I don’t know… why am I relieved? God, she was right, I- I’m horrible, no wonder she- she never wanted to see me, I- why can’t I- I can’t—”

Martin cuts off with a wet sob, and all at once, Tim understands.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he collects Martin’s hands from the sheets, holds them tightly in his own. “You can feel however you like, it’s- it’s okay.”

He squeezes Martin’s hands, just once, and repeats, “It’s okay.”

He knows Martin won’t believe him. But still, he sits, and Martin cries, and he says, It’s okay.

It’s okay.

The hearing aids are a permanent fixture in his ears now, as most people have full hearing restoration after six weeks apparently doesn’t include him. The tinnitus is still particularly bad some days, but they help with everything else. It’s not perfect, but it’s a small price to pay for living, he supposes.

He’s not sure when, exactly, he decides that he’s glad he’s alive. But he does.

He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear at all, when the Flesh attacks. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the wet, sticky sounds of things that shouldn’t be able to move without bones slipping through the vents, shattering the relative peace they’d begun to cultivate. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the pops of Basira’s gun, bullets burying themselves in things that barely flinched at the contact. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear Melanie’s screams of anger, the responding screams of pain from things with too many eyes and teeth and limbs as her knife carved a violent path through them.

There are yellow doors and hands slick with blood and a sudden quiet as the last of the twisted, mangled creatures falls, sliced neatly in two in a way that’s just a bit too clean.

Melanie is breathing heavily, but her hands are steady and her eyes are hard with something raging and violent. When Basira reaches tentatively for her knife, saying, “It’s over now, Melanie. We’re- we’re safe,” Melanie stiffens but doesn’t resist.

“This isn’t right,” Tim says after Melanie comes back to herself in bits and pieces, enough to shudder at the blood coating her arms up to the elbows and mutter something he can’t quite catch before disappearing into the toilet. “None of this is. God, can we ever catch a fucking break?”

“We can deal with it later,” Basira says. She’s calm, but she can’t quite hide the tremor in her voice. Her Al-Amira is splattered with viscera. “Right now, we need to make a call. Get this cleaned up.”

“What,” Tim says bitterly, “so we can continue hiding away in the Archives? You’re the one who said we should start sleeping here. Should have known it wouldn’t be safe. It’s not like it was before.”

He rubs at one of the small circular scars on the back of his left hand, his skin crawling with a phantom itch that makes him vaguely nauseous.

“We stay here,” Basira says, leaving no room for debate. “We make the call, and we stay here.”

Tim makes a low, frustrated noise, and bites out, “Fine. Because Basira always knows best. Whatever.” He unlocks his wheelchair and says shortly, “I’m going outside for some fresh air. The smell of rotting meat is making me sick.”

Basira doesn’t follow him.

Martin does.

They situate themselves just outside the glass doors, and they don’t say anything for a long time. Martin still looks vaguely ill. His face is pale, and his hands are fidgeting at his sides. His fingers are resting on his ring, twisting it back and forth, agitated. His shoes are stained a glistening red.

Finally, Martin tilts his head back so it hits the wall behind him and says to the air above him, “Is it horrible that I wish Jon were here?”

Tim snorts, anger still bubbling under the surface of his skin. “Because we’d have done so much better with our own flavor of spooky bullshit?” He bites out a bitter laugh. “Maybe he could have compelled them to explain exactly why every single monster out there has a personal vendetta against us. Working for an eldritch horror of voyeurism doesn’t give you much in terms of an offense.”

“Stop,” Martin says sharply. “You know what I mean.”

Tim does. He’s just not particularly inclined to wax nostalgic about the power of friendship and comradery when he’s got bits of meat stuck in his hair.

Still, he finds that he means it when he says, “I wish he was too. For what it’s worth. Which isn’t a fucking lot, but it’s what we’ve got.”

“Yeah,” Martin says. His hand brushes against Tim’s, and they fall back into silence.

The police arrive, followed closely by the ECDC. It’s a messy affair, even messier than the last time Tim had been in this situation, and Tim wants nothing more than to get away. Forever.

He doesn’t make any jokes this time. He just nods in the right places, and when they’re finally released and he and Martin return to a flat they haven’t seen in weeks, he can feel weariness cutting through him to the bone.

When he wakes the next day, Martin’s gone. His note, stuck to the door of the fridge, says, At the hospital. Be back around noon.

It’s ten in the morning, and the sunlight is bright as it streams in through the kitchen window.

Tim digs out the bottle of rum that Martin keeps tucked in the back of his cabinet and pours himself a drink.

“Peter Lukas wants me to be his assistant.”

Tim looks up from what’s turning out to be quite an impressive doodle of the little figurine of a frog in a top hat he’d purchased back in research from a charity shop and says, “Absolutely not.”

Martin sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, holds it there for a moment, and then says, “I don’t know if I have a choice in the matter, really. It’s… it’s not safe here anymore.” Quieter: “He said he can help. Off- offer protection.”

Tim audibly scoffs at that. He sets down his pencil and notepad and crosses his arms across his chest. He can already feel a headache coming on. (More than the usual, that is. He’s almost able to tune out the constant ringing in his ears now.

Almost.)

“What’s he going to do, isolate them to death? It’s not like the Lonely’s any better of an offensive force than the Eye. We’re doing just fine without involving him.”

“Are we?” Martin’s voice is hard and a bit choked when he continues, “We’re living down here because it’s not safe to stay outside for too long. We’re still finding bits of- of flesh in- eugh.” Martin shudders and folds inward on himself. Quieter, enough so that Tim has to watch the motion of his lips to make out the words, he says, “Jon’s not waking up.”

Tim feels something inside of him twist. “We don’t know that. We don’t know what’s happening with him.” A touch bitterly—old habits die hard, he supposes—he says, “Maybe he’s just not done going through his monster metamorphosis yet.”

“Tim.”

Tim sighs. It’s a profoundly weary sound. “Yeah, yeah. I… I miss him too, you know.”

He’s surprised to find that it’s not a lie.

“Right.” A small, shaky smile crosses Martin’s face, and he says, “I- I suppose they’re right, then. Distance does make the heart grow fonder.”

“Somehow,” Tim says, “I don’t think whoever coined that phrase had this situation in mind.”

Martin’s smile fades as quickly as it had come, and Tim feels a pang of guilt. “Sorry,” he says, pushing away from the desk and wheeling across the room to where Martin sits. He hesitates, just a moment, before placing his hand on Martin’s where it rests on his knee. “I… I suppose I’ve forgotten how to be lighthearted about all of this.”

Martin nods. It’s a small motion. He’s silent for a long moment; Tim squeezes his hand and says nothing. Finally, Martin looks down at his hands and says, “It’s been four months, Tim. Nothing’s changed.” He pauses again, his mouth pinching around the edges. “I… I visited him today. I begged him to wake up, to- to do anything to indicate that he’s even still there. I don’t know why I expected him to answer. It’s not like anything’s different now. He- he’s never going to wake up, Tim.”

Martin’s voice cracks, and he repeats, wetly, “He’s never going to wake up.”

Then, Martin’s crying, heaving sobs that overtake him completely and have him hunched over, dripping salty tears onto the back of Tim’s hand. “Hey, hey, hey,” Tim says, leaning forward as far as he’s comfortably able to and wrapping Martin in as hard of a hug as he can manage. He rubs his hands in circles across Martin’s shoulderblades, feeling Martin’s shaky breaths against the side of his neck, and says, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He repeats it, again and again, as Martin cries into his shoulder and says, over and over, words thick with grief, “He’s dead, Tim. He’s dead.”

“It’s okay,” Tim says. Maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll start to believe it.

Eventually, Martin’s body stops shaking and he pulls back, the tear tracks on his cheeks already beginning to dry. His eyes are red-rimmed and glistening, and he looks tired, grief apparent in every line of him.

“I said I’d think about it,” Martin says, in a voice rubbed raw and hoarse. “When Peter called me. I- I said I’d think about it. I- I don’t know why…” He cuts off, makes a small, distressed noise, and says, “What do I even have left? If- if this can help, what- what do I have to lose?”

Tim feels a pang of hurt flash through him, but he suppresses it. He squeezes Martin’s hands, gives him as wide a smile as he can without breaking, and says, “You have me. And I’m not leaving—you’re stuck with me. So don’t think for a second that if you take Peter’s deal, I won’t be there still. I’m like a bad penny, or, I don’t know, a- a fungus or whatever. The point is, you’re not going to get rid of me. Whether or not you decide to work for Lukas—which you shouldn’t, by the way, in case I haven’t made that abundantly clear—you’re not going to be lonely, okay? Not on my watch. I can be very persistent when I put my mind to it.”

Martin looks at Tim, eyes wide, and another small, hiccuping sob escapes him. “You really mean that?”

“Yes, Martin,” Tim says, exasperation and fondness filling him in equal measure. “Christ, just because things got… rough for a bit, it doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. Honestly, don’t know if I could. You’re a very lovable person, you know. It’s not like being your friend is a hardship.”

Martin laughs a little at that, his voice still thick with tears. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Tim gives him another smile, and this one feels easier. Like it would be harder not to smile. Still, he’s careful with his words when he says, “So, then. What are you going to do? I’ve made my opinion more than known, but…” Tim swallows around the lump in his throat and continues, “It’s your decision.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah.”

Peter calls again. And when Martin hesitates for a long moment before giving a quiet yet firm no, the relief that sweeps over Tim is enough to make him feel weightless.

Two months later, as a man who smells of death shuts the door behind him, Jon takes a rattling breath and finally opens his eyes.

“Tim?”

Tim raises the hand that’s not holding a rather large bouquet of white daisies and baby’s breath in a half-wave. “Hi, boss. Been a while.”

The look Jon gives him is half-shocked, half-nervous. “I… I suppose it has. Six months, apparently.”

Tim makes a sound of affirmation before wheeling himself fully into Jon’s hospital room and letting the door swing shut behind him. “You know,” he says, allowing a blanket of levity to fall over him, “when we said you should get more sleep, this isn’t exactly what we meant.”

Jon just stares at him for a moment, face blank and eyes wide. Then, a laugh escapes him, a small hiccup of amusement. “Yes, well. I can’t say that I feel particularly well-rested.”

Tim imagines what it must have been like, to be locked in a dreamscape stasis for six months. He can’t say that the idea sounds particularly relaxing. “Yep, sounds about right. Guess we can cross ‘spooky coma’ off our list of possible cures for sleep deprivation.”

Jon folds inward on himself a bit, hugging one arm to his chest and gripping the other tightly. “Right,” he says, his voice small. He looks away from Tim, focusing on the small window in the corner of the room, and says, “I… I’m sorry, Tim.”

Right. Jon still thinks Tim hates him.

Tim lets out a long, weary sigh and makes his way to Jon’s bed. He practically shoves the flowers into Jon’s hands; Jon takes them, more out of surprise than anything, white petals tickling the bottom of his chin. “It’s been six months, Jon. You’ve been… honestly, a bit dead? No offense. And I’ve been alive. And we both know it was meant to be the other way around.”

Jon opens his mouth, and Tim holds up a hand. “Don’t. I know. I already hear enough about it from my therapist, I don’t need to hear about it from you too. The point is that I’ve… I’ve had time to think. And some of the things you did, I can’t forgive you for. But some of it…”

Tim shrugs. “Martin would always go on about how it wasn’t your fault. About how you were suffering just as much as us. And maybe I didn’t believe it because I was already angry, or maybe I didn’t believe it because all I could think about was finally getting a chance at the revenge I’d chased after for years. But then you were gone, and the Circus was gone, and I just… didn’t have anything left for the anger to hold on to.”

Jon clutches the flowers tightly in his hands, looks down at the petals. “But you were right,” he says quietly. “A- about me.”

Tim casts himself back six months and sifts through a metric ton of bitter remarks and angry assumptions. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Jon lets out a slow, shaky breath. “About me not being human.”

Oh.

“Jon—”

“Do you know what I was dreaming about?” Jon cuts in before Tim can say anything else. “I- I don’t remember, not really, but… but I can guess. I… I Know, somehow, that- that they were the same dreams, over and over and over again.” Jon takes one of the flower petals between his fingers and rubs it back and forth, a nervous gesture. “I started having them soon after I took this job, you know. Naomi Herne was the first one, and I- I didn’t understand why. Every night, she was trapped in the fog, forced into her own grave, and I would try to move, because it- it felt like I should have been able to, but it- it never worked. So I… I stopped trying after a while. I would stand and watch as she relived one of the worst experiences of her life, every night, and I- I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Jon crushes the petal between his fingers. “She was the first one, but- but there are so many more now. Lionel Elliott and Jordan Kennedy and- and, Christ, Georgie—”

Jon makes a small, unhappy noise. “I don’t know when I realized that they could see me in their dreams too. That in trying to help, I- I’d just made myself another source of terror.”

Jon falls silent for a few moments; the quiet is filled by the familiar tick tick tick of the clock in the corner. Then, so quietly Tim has to focus on his lips to catch the words, he says, “I… I think I made a choice. Before I woke up. I don’t… I don’t know what it means for me, not really, but I know it means that I’m worse than I was before.” He lets out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. “So, you were right. I’m just- just even less human now.”

Jon falls silent again, and for a few moments, there’s just tick, tick, tick. Tim rolls the words over in his mind, looks at Jon’s pinched, unhappy expression, and says, “Okay.”

Jon looks at him then, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Okay?”

Tim shrugs and repeats, “Okay. You’re not human. I’m not going to pretend like that thrills me or whatever, but it’s… honestly, it’s a lot less of an issue for me now than it was back then.”

“I- I don’t…” Jon trails off with a frustrated noise. “What?”

Tim sighs. “A lot’s changed, Jon. Things have… well, things have kind of gone to hell. Honestly, we could use a few monsters who are on our side for a change.”

Jon blinks at him in stunned silence for a few moments more before saying, bewildered, “... Right. Uh, I- I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you’ve been, then.”

A wry smile cracks across Tim’s face. “I’ve been just peachy, thanks for asking. Blow up one Circus and suddenly every spooky monster out there wants to kill you. It’s been one big, long, horrible sleepover in the Archives. But hey, at least Elias isn’t there! Now we’ve just got Lukas, and if one or two staff members disappear every once and a while, well—that’s just how it is at the Magnus Institute. Nothing to be concerned about. Sometimes, we still go out for drinks.”

“Tim,” Jon says flatly. The exasperated expression on his face is so familiar—so Jon—that Tim feels a tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding slip away.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim says, waving a hand absently in Jon’s direction. “Point is, I’m not disappointed or angry or whatever that you’re back in the land of the living.” He pauses, and then, more sincerely: “Martin’s not the only one who’s missed you, okay?”

Jon’s lips part into an O. Then, his mouth twitches up into a smirk, and he says, “Mm, you’re right. Basira did stop by earlier, and then of course Georgie, and I bet even Melanie—”

“Unbelievable. And here I was nice enough to come all the way over here, to bring you flowers.”

“Mm, they are very nice flowers.”

“Damn right they are.”

Jon smiles then, a fragile thing, and says, “Thank you, Tim. I… I’ve missed you too.”

Tim could point out that Jon had been asleep for the majority of the time in question. But he knows that’s not what Jon means. So instead, he offers Jon a smile in return and says, “Be honest: more or less than the Admiral?”

Jon shoots Tim a flat, unimpressed look. “Tim, don’t be ridiculous. Of course less than the Admiral.”

Tim’s been out of the wheelchair for a week when he finally manages to make his way to the roof of the Institute, still learning how to maneuver the crutches he’s moved on to. He swears he can feel every motion of the pins and the rods in his leg—skin covered with even more scars for the collection—as he finally heaves himself through the door and into the cool night air.

The view is just as good as he remembers.

There’s the faint smell of cigarette smoke hanging in the air, and Tim’s entirely unsurprised to see Jon silhouetted against the glow of London, leaning against the wall that rings the roof with his back facing Tim. The cigarette glows a dull red as he raises it to his lips and breathes in.

Jon doesn’t say anything, even as Tim painstakingly makes his way over to where he’s stood. Tim props his crutches against the wall before leaning his weight heavily against it, arms crossed atop the wall in a mirror image of Jon as they both look out onto the city below, humming with life and light.

Finally, after a particularly long drag of his cigarette, Jon says, “I’m going to get Daisy.”

There’s no room for argument in his voice. But that’s never stopped Tim from trying anyways.

“I thought you were done doing stupid shit that’ll get you killed,” Tim says, turning his head to look at Jon. Jon’s staring forward, but Tim gets the distinct impression that Jon isn’t looking out at the city at all.

“It won’t kill me,” Jon says quietly. He moves his hands as he talks, surprisingly competent sign language that he’s begun using tentatively in his conversations with Tim. When Tim had asked him where he’d learned it, Jon had been quiet for a long moment before telling him that he hadn’t.

Well. At least the Eye was being useful for once.

“Yeah, whatever,” Tim says. “Dead or not, you’ll still be gone. You know people who crawl into that coffin don’t come back.”

“I don’t—” Jon cuts off with a frustrated noise. After a moment, he continues, “I have a plan. I- I read a statement, and it said that I would need an anchor. A- a piece of myself to keep here. I can find it when I’m down there, and- and use it to guide me back.”

“Right,” Tim says dryly. “Because our plans have always gone so well.”

“What would you have me do, Tim? I- I can’t just do nothing.”

“Why not?”

Jon affixes him with an expression that’s half-affronted, half-stunned. “Tim.”

“What? Jon, we barely know Daisy. She tried to kill you. No, don’t give me that look.” Tim jabs a finger in Jon’s direction. “You know I’m right.”

“I…” Jon trails off. After a moment, he hugs his arms to himself, his snubbed-out cigarette still smoldering slightly on top of the wall. “I know. But I… I still have to go. I… I’m still going to go.”

Tim exhales slowly and says, “Right. Suppose I should have expected that.”

There’s silence between them for a moment. Then, Jon removes his hands from his arms and signs as he says, quietly, “Why don’t you hate me?”

Tim stares at Jon for a long moment before saying, “What?”

Jon sighs and repeats, the motions of his hands larger and more emphatic, “Why don’t you hate me? Basira and Melanie, they- they keep looking at me like I’m some… thing, and- and maybe I am. No, not… not maybe. I’m not… I’m not human anymore, and I- I know what you said, but what happens when I—?”

Jon cuts off with a small, choked noise, like the air’s been sucked out of him all at once. Weakly, he signs, “I’m so hungry, all the time. What happens when I… when I can’t take it anymore? When I- I become dangerous, a- a monster, will you—?”

Jon’s fingers curl into fists, and he drops his hands to his sides, angling himself away from Tim and staring at an arbitrary point in the distance. “It’s better this way,” he says, loudly enough that Tim can make out the words above the hum of London at night and the ever-present ringing in his ears. “I… I don’t want to go. I don’t want to lose this, to- to lose you and- and Martin. But maybe it’s better than becoming something that will hurt you.”

Jon won’t meet Tim’s eyes. Carefully, Tim reaches across the space between them and takes Jon’s hand in his, uncurling Jon’s fingers gently in an attempt to release some of the tension. Slowly, he says, “You know, I… I shouldn’t be alive right now. Back after the Unknowing, when I woke up in the hospital, I… I didn’t want to be. It was supposed to be whatever it takes, and to me, that was always going to mean my death. Revenge and poetic justice and all of that. I should have died, but I didn’t. And… and you did. And it’s not something I feel guilty about, because we both made the same choice in the end, but that… that doesn’t stop me from feeling, sometimes, like it was my fault somehow.” He lets out a sharp laugh and says, “Well, I was the one to actually blow the place up in the end, but, you know.”

Tim holds Jon’s hand carefully in his like it might break otherwise, the mottled texture of the scar tissue firm against his fingertips. His eyes find the thin white line slashed across Jon’s throat, the stark white bandage poking out from the collar of Jon’s shirt where it covers a fresh scalpel wound in his shoulder, the pale pink spots that pepper Jon’s skin in a mirror image of his own. He can’t see the splash of jagged scars across Jon’s back, a memory of shrapnel and white-hot explosions, but he knows they’re there. “You asked why I don’t hate you?”

When Jon nods mutely, Tim says, “I just… ran out of reasons why I should. I still wanted to, but…” He shrugs and gives Jon a wry, humorless smile. “We’re all just stuck in the same shitty situation. And I guess at some point, I just decided that you hadn’t chosen to be here any more than I did.”

“Oh,” Jon says, barely audible.

Tim takes Jon’s other hand in his, squeezes them firmly, and says, “And I’m sorry. Not for- for how we used to be, because I think the blame for that falls pretty evenly onto both of our shoulders, but… but for everything else. For what’s happened to you. Figured I’ve spent enough time feeling sorry for myself, I might as well extend you the same courtesy.”

Jon’s fingers tighten around Tim’s, and he mumbles something Tim can’t quite catch. Then, he extracts his hands from Tim’s and signs, shakily, “I’m sorry too. For everything. But for what it’s worth, I… I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not dead. I- I know it’s been bad and- and I wish I could fix that, but I… I don’t know if I can.” Jon’s eyes when they meet Tim’s are sad but determined. “But I can fix this. I- I can get Daisy back. I can find my way out.”

Tim looks at the firm set to Jon’s mouth, the furrow of his brow, and says, “Okay. But I’m going to hold you to that. Otherwise, I might have to go in after you.”

Jon looks horrified. “Tim.”

Tim holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hey, come back in one piece and we won’t have to worry about it.”

Jon opens his mouth, then closes it again. There’s a long pause before he finally says, decidedly, “I will. I- I promise.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Tim wants to say. Instead, he shuffles closer to Jon and leans against the wall again, crossing his arms on top of it and looking out over the city. “Good,” he says softly.

After a moment, Jon shifts to face the city as well. His arm brushes against Tim’s, and Tim lets that point of contact ground him as he looks up and up and up at the stars above, pinpricks of light on a satin black sky.

“Thank you,” Jon says, just loud enough for Tim to hear.

Tim moves his hand to cover Jon’s where it sits on the wall and squeezes once. “Yeah.”

They stand there until sunlight begins to tickle the edges of the horizon. And when Jon gives Tim’s hand one last squeeze, the other holding the lid of the coffin open, and says, “Be back soon,” Tim believes him.

Three days later, Jon climbs out of the coffin with dirt caked underneath his fingernails and a thin, sharp hand clutched in his. “Tim,” he says, and Tim ignores the pain in his leg as he lets his crutches drop to the floor and hugs Jon tightly.

“Looks like I’m staying above ground after all,” Tim jokes, his voice light even as his words come out wet and choked.

Jon’s laugh vibrates against Tim’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, burying his face in the fabric of Tim’s shoulder to hide his smile. “Yeah.”

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #creators are revealed now so i can post this!#very exciting #blood cw #body horror cw #injury cw #hospitals cw #suicidal ideations cw #more cw in the body of the post as well #my writing #my fic

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ahatintimepieces · 3 years

Text

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

#a hat in time #ahit snatcher #ahit prince #ahit hat kid #ahit dadtcher #my writing #build-a-bear au #'im gonna take a break'#*proceeds to post exactly one day after the old posting schedule #im still writing lol just gonna be all over the place for a bit #ALSO FINALLY WROTE THIS #ITS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR FOREVER #ITS JUST REALLY FUNNY TO ME TO IMAGINE SNATCHER RUNNING A BUILD A BEAR PLEEEEEEASE #i have one more short thing for this that addresses the heart-shaped hole in the room and then u might find me #ricocheting around other aus like a pinball #anyway that's all for now #thank you so much for reading as always!!!!!#catch ya later!

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p-artsypants · 4 years

Text

Crushed

Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

Ao3 | FF.net

I originally wrote this as a secret santa gift, but it strayed too far from what the giftee wanted, so I did something else. I decided to finish this anyway, and I hope you like it!

—

This akuma attack was not going great. He called himself ‘Bomb Voyage’ (“Like in the Incredibles?” “Yes, Chat. I do believe Hawkmoth ripped that name.”) And he was blowing things up right and left.

When the Lucky Charm bullhorn fell into her hands, she had some sort of plan in the works, but it all fell short at Chat’s shout.

“My Lady! Look out!”

The building right in front of her, mere feet away, exploded suddenly, the only clue being Bomb Voyage’s finger point.

There was no time to run. No time for Chat to scoop her up. Only impending destruction and carnage.

So Chat leapt, his arms wrapping around her head, and tackled her to the ground as the rubble rained down.

It felt like ages of pain before things settled. They both coughed out lungfuls of plaster dust that still hung in the air. It was mostly dark, with a scant bit of light from above.

Chat was squished, but he pushed up on his arms and felt Ladybug move slightly.

“My Lady?” He asked. “Are you alright?”

“My leg hurts. I may have sprained my ankle. How are you?”

“I took a brunt force to the back when the building collapsed. It hurts, but...I can’t really feel my legs.”

“Chat...”

“Though, that could just be bad circulation. I’m in an awkward position.”

Ladybug’s earrings chirped.

“Crap,” she muttered. “I used my lucky charm. Do you think you can cataclysm your way out of here?”

He twisted his neck in an effort to look around, though the dust of the rubble was still thick. He looked towards the light source above them, able to see where it was coming from, but it looked several feet away. “Negative, my lady. I think we might need some outside help for this one.”

She bit her lip nervously. “I don’t hear anymore explosions.”

“That’s good. Right? Maybe Hawkmoth thinks we got crushed and stopped his akuma.”

“Yeah, that’s great…unless he’s got someone waiting to take our Miraculous’ off our corpses when we’re dug out of here.”

“Ever the optimist, hmm?”

“It’s my talent,” she smirked. Her earrings beeped again and she turned her ear toward Chat. “How much time do I have left?”

“Looks like two minutes.”

“Great…”

“I can close my eyes.” He offered. They were basically nose to nose, and her hands where trapped below his arms, so she couldn’t reach up at all.

“I…I don’t know…”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

“We need to find a way out of here,” she switched topics. “Or find a way to contact emergency services to get us out.”

“My baton is still on my back, if you can reach it.”

Ladybug groped around blindly, feeling for the staff.

“That’s my butt.”

“Oh, sorry.” She blushed, and then moved her hand up. Once she found it, she held it out to her side as she could see the screen. “I’m about to detransform, but I have a cookie for Tikki in my purse. As long as it’s still there, she should be able to recharge before they bust us out of here.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” Chat winced.

Ladybug dialed the number.

“112, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello, this is Ladybug and Chat Noir. We’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“How can we help, Ladybug?”

“A building collapsed on us, and we’re pinned and can’t get out. We’re on Rue de Lappe, not far from Bastille.”

“I’ve got your location on my map. I’m sending the fire department your way.”

“Is there any sign of the Akuma?”

“We’ve gotten similar calls about being trapped, but they stopped coming in a few minutes ago.”

“Thank you. I’m going to extend Chat’s Baton out through the rubble so they can find us.”

“Alright, I will pass that information along. Good luck, Ladybug!”

“Thank you!” Carefully, Ladybug aimed the Baton towards the little hole to the surface, and extended the staff, the top breaking through the topside.

“And now...we wait.” Her earrings beeped again.

“So...you don’t want me to close my eyes?” Chat asked for clarification.

“I’ve been thinking...if I’m the guardian, and something happens to Plagg, like he gets sick or something, you need to be able to find me out of the suit, you know? It’s just you and me...”

“Does that mean you want to know my identity?”

She grimaced. “I should but—“

In a flash of pink, Marinette remained, looking sheepishly at him. “...I need a little time to come to terms with this.”

His eyes were impossibly wide, staring at her, drinking her in in the scant light. “Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Howdy?” She squeaked.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Chat?” She asked, fearfully.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He opened his eyes again, and his lip wobbled. “I just—I’m trying really hard not to cry.” Despite this, a tear fell from his eye and landed on her cheek.

She tried not to cry herself. “Are you that upset?” She whispered.

“Upset?! No! How could I ever—Marinette, I’m thrilled beyond belief! If it was anyone else—“ he clenched his eyes shut again, as more tears started to fall. “I admire you, and trust you, and respect you more than anyone else.”

“Chat...”

He smiled tenderly. “You know, I had hunches. I was almost completely certain until Kwamibuster, too!”

That made her wince again. “Oh Chat, you know I didn’t mean to lie to you...”

“I know, I know, at the time, it was too risky.” He continued to smile, his tears subsiding. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m glad I get to see you now.”

“Kinda makes Evillustrator funny, huh?”

He laughed. “You’re right! I forgot about that! Hey! You called yourself cute!”

“I am cute!” She pouted.

“You are cute,” he agreed, taking her in. “I’ve stared at your face a lot, but you look so so different without the mask.”

“It’s the glamour,” she elaborated. “That extra bit of magic that makes it hard to connect the dots.”

“I know how it works,” he smirked.

“Right...sorry, this is just...weird.”

“Good weird?”

“I feel naked.”

“You just say the word, and I’ll get naked with you.”

She threw him an unamused look. “Don’t be gross.”

“Sorry, I can’t help cracking jokes around you. Although, I’m sure you were wishing I was secret mystery boy right now instead, right?” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to hide his heartache. “So who is it? It’s Luka, right?”

It was like she had her mask on again, cheeks red as a tomato. “No...it’s not Luka.”

“Oh...aren’t you guys dating?”

“Not anymore. We did, for like a week. If you could even call it dating. He just came over to my house during my downtime, and played his guitar while I worked on commissions and stuff. It was nice and all...but I prefer the piano.” She looked away.

“Piano, hmm?” He smirked. “You know, I’m an excellent piano player...and the real mystery guy is too?”

“You can’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

“I doubt that,” she said flatly.

“I promise, I know you don’t like people shallowly. So whoever it is, I know it’s genuine.” He smiled softly, encouragingly.

Marinette screwed up her lips and admitted, begrudgingly. “Fine. It’s Adrien. Adrien Agreste.”

The sound that Chat let out was not a laugh. But it wasn’t a great sign. It was like a wheeze, but a gurgle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just...” he blinked several times, trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. Ladybug was Marinette! And she had a crush on him! “I...am surprised, is all. I didn’t know you were...close?”

“I sit behind him in class. He’s one of my best friends. Our best friends are dating, so sometimes we end up being third wheels together?”

“Oh. And this is the same guy as before?”

“It’s always been Adrien.”

Chat hoped she couldn’t hear the pounding in his chest. “Oh...even when Glaciator hit? When I found you sad on your balcony?”

“Yep. He was supposed to meet us for ice cream, and he didn’t show...I kind of told Andre that love was bogus, and that’s why he got akumatized.”

Chat laughed at that. “Aww, it’s okay, Marinette. I’m sure he had a good reason for not showing up...”

“I’m used to it,” she said dully. “His father is a huge pain in the ass. I used to respect him, but now...he’s a jerk. He constantly holds Adrien’s freedom ransom to make him do stuff. It kills me! You know when I was in New York?”

“Yeah?”

“I had to beg his father to let him go. It was a class trip, and he was the only one not allowed to go! Just because his father is so concerned with his safety.”

“Can you blame the man? We’re currently trapped under a pile of rumble.”

“But as soon as I’m out, I’ll lucky charm and cure everything! Poof! Sprained ankle gone! Whatever’s wrong with you, gone!”

“What do you think your parents would do if they found out you were Ladybug?”

Marinette thought for a moment, and answered honestly. “Probably be sort of angry, and worried. But I think they would understand. They respect us a lot, even after my dad got akumatized.”

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned.

“What about your parents?” She asked.

“My mom would have been excited. I think. Worried too, but excited for me. But my father...well, he’d rip off my miraculous and make sure I never saw the light of day again.”

“That bad, hm?”

“I’m not exaggerating. I’m in the same boat as Adrien, extremely sheltered.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiled softly. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t really want you to know. Chat Noir is supposed to be my safe place, my wild and crazy side. I’m afraid if I start talking about home, I’ll admit things that civilian me doesn’t want to.” He exhaled, his chest bumping with hers. “God, it is just so easy to talk to you. Now more than ever.”

“Really? You know me that well?”

“I know enough. And maybe it’s just because I’ve got you pinned and you can’t go anywhere.”

She laughed at that. “Well, we’ll probably be here for a while. And...I still want you to hide your identity for a while, but if you want to talk about your life a little more, that’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It really is time for us to know who each other are, I’m just...not ready.” She huffed, and his bangs fluttered. “This was unavoidable, but let’s plan for your reveal, so I can be emotionally prepared.”

“You won’t be. You will cry.”

“You say that with an awful lot of certainty.”

“Trust me, when you behold me in all of my unmasked glory, you’ll cry.”

“Alright. Can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

He smirked.

“Chat? Are you shivering?”

“Uh…yeah, kinda.”

“Are you cold?”

“Not…not exactly. I’m holding up a lot of rumble so it doesn’t crush you…and I’m pretty claustrophobic.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier!?”

He laughed, but it lacked any mirth and was filled with quiet panic. “Uh, just…you know…trying to stay calm.”

“What can I do to help?”

He exhaled shakily. “I don’t know, but talking about it isn’t helping.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you keep eye contact with me, and…let’s just talk.”

“About what?”

“I know you’ve got a whole list of questions you’ve been dying to ask me. Now’s your chance.”

“Damn it!” He nearly shouted. “I had a whole notebook full of questions I wanted to ask you, but it’s at my house!”

“Well, you know where I live, so you can ask me some other time if you want.”

“Deal!” He screwed up his lips. “But first, since you mentioned it, Weredad.”

“Oh god…”

“Why did you say you were in love with me?”

She winced. “To be quite honest, I thought you were going to find out who I was…and the poor excuse just flew out of me before I could think through the consequences. I didn’t think my dad would overhear anything, and I didn’t think you’d show up for brunch.”

“You didn’t think I’d show up? Me? The biggest gentleman in Paris?”

“Okay fine, I hoped you wouldn’t show up.” She rolled her eyes.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shenanigans that could have been prevented if—hold the phone, how did you do Multimouse?!”

“Fox miraculous,” she shrugged.

“The Fox! Of course!”

She laughed, his reaction calming her nerves. “I understand what you mean now, it’s easy to talk to you. It’s always easy, but I didn’t notice until you said it.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You don’t always feel that way.”

“I mean, I get frustrated with your jokes when I’m trying to be serious, but that doesn’t mean—“

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

He swallowed thickly. “Civilian me…you…you have a hard time…” He trailed off, not looking at her face.

“Chat?”

“Did you ever tell Adrien? That you…you know?”

She tilted her head at the sudden topic change. “Uh…no. I tried, but it was never meant to be. Every time I did, something would go catastrophically wrong.”

“Like what?”

“Like...I gave him this scarf, right? For his birthday. And I forgot to sign it initially, so I snuck into his house and left a sticky note on it. Somehow, it still managed to go wrong, and he thought it was from his dad.”

Chat stared at her, wide eyed. “And you never told him?”

“No, he was happy believing that it was from his dad. His happiness is all I want.”

It was hard to describe the look on Chat’s face. Almost pained, but still full of love. Like seeing something so precious it brings you to tears. “You did that for him? You really love him that much?”

She looked away, “Unfortunately.”

“Why unfortunately? Is he a jerk?”

“No, not at all. I just…I know he doesn’t love me back. ‘Oh Marinette, you’re such a great friend.’ ‘I’m so glad I have a friend like you.’ ‘Please stay my friend forever!’” She shook her head. “That boy has me firmly friend-zoned.”

He winced, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. He probably really really likes you, and just wants you to know how much he appreciates your friendship.”

“And that’s another reason I can’t confess. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” She groaned. “I sound so pathetic! It’s so stupid.” She shook her head. “I wish I had your bravery.”

“My bravery isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s gotten me hurt pretty badly, after all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he smiled at her softly. “You feel how you feel, and I just hurt myself.” He gnawed at his lip. “Actually…can I ask a really dumb question?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“You don’t have to answer it…actually, no. I shouldn’t ask at all. Nevermind.”

“Well now you have to ask,” she chuckled. “I’m curious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, but don’t hate me.”

She nodded him on.

“Why…why did you go out with Luka if you knew I loved you? Do you also like Luka? Or…are you just that…repulsed by me?”

Marinette’s mouth fell open in quiet shock, and she inhaled some dust. She turned so she wouldn’t cough in his face at least.

“Sorry,” he tried to sooth. “I told you it was stupid. You can date whoever you want…”

She cleared her throat, and then wheezed out. “You just wanted it to be you.”

“…yeah…”

“Chat,” she leaned up to tap her nose against his. “To say I have absolutely no feelings for you would be a lie.”

He looked hopeful. “Really?”

“They’re still developing. But I noticed thoughts I have about you sometimes. Missing you, thinking you’re cute…but Luka was the safer option at the time. I was trying desperately to get over Adrien. Luka and I weren’t really friends first, so if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t a big loss. But with you…” She looked into his eyes, an insurmountable amount of pain and unsaid words just beyond his reach. “I could lose everything.”

“You won’t lose me, My Lady.” He said softly.

“Oh kitty,” she moaned. “I…I never want to lie to you…but there’s something that I haven’t told you. Something I should have a long time ago. I just…don’t like thinking about it.”

“What is it?”

“Chat Blanc.”

At her hesitation, he prodded her on. “What’s a Chat Blanc?”

Her whole face tightened, lips curling into a thin line, eyes squinted hard, and brow furrowed. “It’s…he’s your akumatized self.”

“What?” He breathed. “But I’ve never been akumatized.”

“No, not anymore. You see…Bunnyx helped with it. Somehow, the event of me signing a gift to Adrien triggered a series of events that got you akumatized. I don’t know what the correlation was, but…you knew my name, and you said our love destroyed the world.”

“The world?”

“I hate thinking about it,” she winced again. “The whole of Paris flooded, the Eiffel tower knocked on it’s side, the moon exploded. Everyone, including me and Hawkmoth, turned to dust. You cried when you saw me. You asked me to save you, but you also wanted my earrings, wanting to fix everything yourself. So we fought.”

“I assume you won, if you’re here.”

“Yeah...the Akuma was in your bell. Your all white bell, on your white suit, with your white hair and blue eyes...” she shuttered. “I still see you like that in my nightmares.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I didn’t want to mention it. I didn’t want to worry you, and I didn’t want to remember. I knew I should have told you sooner, though. I’m sorry.”

“...I understand.” He swallowed and exhaled in a whoosh, all the debris above them shifting. He moaned, ending with a hiss.

“Chat?”

“Sorry, I moved and realized that I’m a little more hurt than I thought.”

“What’s ‘a little more hurt’?”

“Uh…I think I’m…I’ve been impaled?”

“What!?”

“It’s not that bad, the suit took most of the pain. I just…am having a little hard time breathing, and I thought it was from my claustrophobia, but I think something is lodged in me.”

Very carefully, Marinette reached up and felt along his back. A lot of debris was laying flush to his suit, but as she moved her hand around, she noticed he felt wet and sticky.

“Yeah, I think you’re bleeding, kitty.” She said so sadly. She touched where the wound was and he cried out in pain. It was his lower back, by his spine.

“I’m sorry!” She pulled her hand away.

“S’kay,” he hissed out. “God damn, that hurt.”

“I promise, as soon as we get out of here, I’ll magic you right as rain. Just...just hold on, kitty.”

He opened an eye to look at her, still fond through his pain. “Are you panicking?”

“Yes! I was worried when the building collapsed, but now I’m on the verge of pure panic!”

“I must admit, this is not how I expected today to go.” He breathed slowly, the pain subsiding when he held still. “Actually, I didn’t imagine this happening when I found out who you are. You being Marinette is like…the cherry on top of a diarrhea sundae.”

“Do you like cherries?”

“I love cherries.” He whispered. “I got grounded today.”

“Oh.”

“I was having lunch with my father, a rare treat. My friend texted me and I answered without thinking. My father became upset that I would do something so ‘rude’. He said if my friends were more important than him, then he shouldn’t bother eating with me. Then he took my phone.”

“That’s the kind of assholery that I’ve come to expect from Adrien’s dad. You’re in that boat too?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Come to think of it…he’s probably the reason I got akumatized in that other timeline.”

“You think so?”

“It’s a hunch. I don’t often get upset about things, but when I do, it’s usually because of him.” He sighed, ending with a wince. “That’s something I haven’t admitted to myself until now.”

“Kitty...”

“I didn’t mean to bring that up...”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did. I want to be able to support you where you need it.” She could see that he was spiraling into depression, and quickly sought to remedy that. “What was your daydream like? When you would find out who I was?”

A twitch of a smile took his face. “I knew I would spend a long time staring at you, memorizing what you look like without the mask.” He took a shaky breath. “And I thought, when we decided to share our identities, it would be because you finally fell for me. So there was a kiss. And a lot of roses. It was sappy...but it made me happy to think about it.”

“Can I ask...what it is that you love so much about me? In case you don’t know, there’s a lot of differences between Marinette and Ladybug.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But there’s plenty of similarities. Your strength, for example.”

She laughed. “Chat, Ladybug can throw you across the city. But Marinette couldn’t even lift you.”

“I bet you could! We should test it later! But I meant your strength of heart.”

“You sound like an anime character.”

“Well, it’s important to me.” He blushed. “You aren’t wishy-washy. You don’t cater to the voices around you. You do what’s right. You want justice. Even when akumas and civilians tell us to go or step down, you get up and fight.”

“I do that?”

“Yes. The day you stood up to Hawkmoth, and you promised Paris that you would fight for them until the end? That moment, I said, ‘no matter who that girl is, I love her.’ And even now, it hasn’t stopped. I may even love you more.”

“Chat…” She sniffed. “I…I care about you so much. And I know that if Adrien wasn’t in view, I’d fall for you hard and fast. But I can’t.”

“I know, Marinette. Just knowing…that maybe someday…”

“All the more reason to get rid of Hawkmoth, right?”

He nodded, a tear slipping from his eye and landing on her cheek. “Today sucks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault. And I’d much prefer that you were here, under me, than being alone. I’m handling my claustrophobia a lot better because of it.”

“I’d much rather be under you too.”

He gave her a smile, and then snorted with a little blush. “Oh my lady…”

“I thought we were being mature.”

“Me? Mature? Come on.”

“Yeah, I should have known better.”

“You’re beautiful too,” he added. “I’ve always thought so. As Ladybug and Marinette. I saw you with your hair down once, and it’s haunted me ever since.”

“You saw me with my hair down?” She questioned, trying to ignore the hot blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah, it looked really nice on you. I know it’s not practical for crime fighting, but…”

“Maybe for a patrol,” she offered. “When things are calm.”

A smile graced his face as he sighed deeply.

The pile above them shifted, and Chat let out a cry of pain.

“Kitty?”

“This sucks!” He moaned, leaning his forehead down to her face. “Sorry, whatever is in me moved, and I really felt it.”

“Please don’t apologize, Chat. If anything, I should apologize, you took the hit for me!”

“My Lady…you didn’t do anything wrong. If I can help it, I will never let you get hurt.”

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “It breaks my heart that you would do that. I don’t want you to be a meat shield, I want you to be my partner.”

“You said it yourself. Once we’re out of here, you’ll do Miraculous Cure and set me right. So I’ll take the hits if I have to.” He sucked in a harsh breath. “Even if it hurts like a bitch.”

With her hands trapped at her sides, she couldn’t reach up and wipe his tears away. So she opted for the next best thing. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for protecting me. I know you’re going to say it’s your job, but I really do appreciate how much you look out for me.”

“I love you, Marinette. Of course I’m going to protect you.”

She shook her head slightly. “How can you just say that so casually?”

“Why bother hiding it? You know already. I’m not going to bottle it up.”

“I just…wish I could do that. With Adrien. I wish I could walk right up to him and say, ‘I love you, you magnificent human being’ and crush my lips to his perfect face.”

Chat hid his blushing face in her shoulder. “You should. I bet you’d make his day.”

“Yeah, or he’d freak out, and sue me for sexual harassment, and then I’ll be the laughing stock of the school, no, all of Paris! The whole world, maybe!”

“Do you often catastrophize?” He chuckled. “I’ve heard you do it before.”

“Usually only with Adrien. I just…don’t want to mess things up.”

“I don’t think you will. I know Adrien. He’s a nice boy. He won’t turn you down.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Call me a psychic.”

She scoffed. “Whatever.” Then she shook her head. “Whether or not you’re confident he won’t reject me…I don’t think I’ll ever tell him. I’ve tried to get over him, but I just look at him and melt all over again. I’m sorry Chat.”

He was quiet, his face resting next to her head, cheek against her ear. After a moment of contemplation, he asked, “hey, you like pink, right?”

“Oh? Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. A dozen pink roses, maybe some red and white in there too for flavor.”

“You’re doing what tomorrow?”

“I’m going to reveal my identity tomorrow.”

“After all that? What about Adrien?”

“Don’t worry about him right now. I’ve been thinking. If you and I know who each other are, in a crisis, we’d be able to communicate better.”

“What do you mean? What kind of crisis?”

“I’m just trying to imagine what happened with my akuma. If there was a problem with my father or miscommunication, we could better solve it without identities in the way.”

“Okay, yes…” she considered. “But please don’t get your hopes up, okay? I would love to spend time with you out of the suit, but I won’t fall for you instantly.”

“I suppose you’re right. After all, how can I compare to the amazingly handsome Adrien Agreste? Well, he won’t be a problem for much longer.”

She frowned. “You say that like you’re going to kill him.”

He laughed. “No no, Bugaboo,” he said fondly. “Look, everything will make sense tomorrow, I promise…as long as I don’t bleed out down here first.”

“You’re acting really jovial for someone with a mortal flesh wound.”

“Tis a scratch.” He breathed a shuddering breath. “Or so I hope.”

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” A male voice called from up above.

“Ugh, finally,” Marinette muttered to herself. “We’re down here!” She called.

“We’ll get you out as soon as we can! Any injuries?”

“Chat has a…bit of a scrape.”

“An ambulance is on the way!”

Marinette didn’t want to tell him it didn’t matter. Once she did the cure, he’d be right as rain.

Right?

“Marinette,” Tikki piped up. “I’m all set, whenever you are.”

“Alright. Tikki, Spots on!”

The pink flash only helped the first responders locate them quicker.

“There’s the baton!” His voice sounded closer. The light above was distorted by a rain of plaster, before it was replaced by flashlight light. “Hello?”

“We’re down here!” Ladybug called, moving her arm under Chat.

“Can either of you move?”

“Chat’s pinned, but I might be able to wiggle out, with some help.”

“We’ll get a sling. We might be able to pull you up and out.”

“Once I get my arms free, I should be able to cast the cure and set everything right.”

“Great plan, Ladybug! We’ll have you out in a minute.”

Ladybug nudged Chat’s nose with her own. “I’ll cast it as soon as I’m free. Can you hold out that long?”

“I’ll have a dozen pink roses. And I’ll wear something nice, like a sweater. Or maybe a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I heard the ladies love that.”

“Chat?”

“I’m trying to focus on something else instead of being trapped.” He explained. “Sorry, I might not be very useful for the next few minutes.”

“Okay,” she kissed his cheek. “You do what you have to.”

The fire department lowered a strap attached to a chain into the hole. “If you can maneuver that under your arms, we can pull you out.”

Using Chat’s Baton, Ladybug was able to pull the strap closer. Very slowly and carefully, she wriggled it under her armpits, careful not to jostle Chat in the process.

“Jewelry could be fun. I know she doesn’t like it when I’m extravagant, but surely she would cherish it if I gave her a ring.” He had his eyes shut tight, his brow furrowed.

Ladybug gave Chat a pitiful look.

“Alright, I’m ready!” Ladybug called to the rescue crew.

She was pulled out from under Chat. Though, she had been supporting his lower half, and he sank to the ground as she slid away from him. This jostled the debris violently, and he cried out in horrible, agonizing pain. It was the worst sound she had ever heard.

“Chat!”

He kept howling, sounding like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Ladybug pushed on the piles around her, hurrying to get free.

The moment she broke the surface, she called for her Lucky Charm.

It was a rose, and she teary-eyed through it up into the air, and called for the cure.

The explosion of Ladybug’s surrounded her, mending her ankle and silencing Chat’s cries.

She touched down on solid, undisturbed concrete, and turned to find Chat face down on the ground.

“Kitty!” She cried, voice cracking as she rushed to him.

He pushed up on one arm. “I’m okay, My Lady. Just a little winded.”

“Are you sure?”

He stood slowly and stretched. “Yeah. All cured.”

She hugged him. Tight and sure, maybe squeezing a little harder than she should.

“Bug, I can’t breathe.” He chuckled.

“Sorry, I just...”

He hugged her back. “I’m never going to turn down a hug though.”

Her earrings beeped.

“Are you both alright?” Asked the EMT on the scene.

“We’re all better,” Chat assured. “Thank you for your help!” He gathered Ladybug close to him and put an arm around her waist. “We gotta go though!”

Ladybug only had a second to realize what he was doing, before she was lifted off her feet and into the air.

“I can travel myself, you know. I still have time.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

He carried her all the way to her balcony, before setting her down. Her transformation ran out just as they landed.

“Thanks for the lift, Kitty.” She scratched under his chin. But as she looked in his eyes, she saw tears. “Chat?”

He sniffled and hugged her again. “Just...a sucky day. I wanted to hug you in privacy. I know how you get when people assume things about us.”

“Well, it’s different when you’re getting handsy and when you need comfort from a traumatic experience.”

“I never get handsy,” he argued. “I just like to be close. I’m touch starved.”

“Well, from what you told me today, I believe you.”

He laughed mirthlessly, and pulled away. “I really do feel better now.” He reached up and cupped her face, letting his thumb trail across the apple of her cheek. “No matter how bad this day was, it will never taint the absolute elation of finally seeing you.”

“Chat...” she blushed.

“I must be the luckiest man on Earth. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Ladybug, all rolled into one. I can’t believe it.”

“Two transformations and you still don’t believe me?”

He smiled. “My brain believes, but my heart never gets so optimistic.” He cast his gaze away. “Even if you...change your mind...” he mused.

“About what?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I’ll just...see you tomorrow. With a dozen pink roses.”

“I’ll get a vase ready.”

He reluctantly pulled away, like tearing himself from her was physically painful. He hopped up on the railing of her balcony, and with a little salute, he hopped into the night.

“I’m proud of you, Marinette.” Said Tikki. “It had to be hard being that honest with him.

“I didn’t really have a choice. I can’t imagine how much worse that experience would have been for him with his eyes closed the whole time.”

“It’s over now. And tomorrow, you’ll know who he is too!”

Marinette whined. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that...”

“It’s a little late for that. What? Are you going to run at the first sight of flowers?”

“I might.”

“It’ll be fine. Marinette, I know who Chat is. And I promise, it’ll all work out fine. Great even. Just, take a shower, and go to bed. Then you can wake up early and mentally prepare yourself.”

Marinette chuckled as she dropped back down into her room. “What would I do without you as a life coach?”

“Sleep through most classes.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

—

In the morning, with the extra sleep Tikki had urged her to get, Marinette rose and dressed.

Then the nerves turned on.

“What if I just fake sick?”

“Don’t you dare! You’d hurt his feelings!”

“You’re right...but I really do feel like I might throw up.”

“Just relax. You’re going to love this.”

“If you say so...”

After breakfast, Marinette wandered over to school leisurely. Tikki would say she was stalling, but Marinette would disagree and state she was simply taking advantage of being early.

At the front steps, students were gathered. No roses. In the courtyard, teens milled about. No roses. In the locker room, her locker was devoid of anything that wasn’t supposed to be in there.

“Well well well,” said Alya, with too much bravado. “Lookie who’s early!”

“Yuck it up. I was tired and went to bed early last night.”

“You sure you aren’t eager to see Adrien today? He looks pretty cute in that button up.”

In all the confusion surrounding Chat, Marinette had honestly forgotten about Adrien. Her. Forget about Adrien. Perish the thought.

“I mean...it would be a bonus.” She muttered.

“Well, he’s up in the classroom. If you were wondering.”

She wasn’t. Or hadn’t been, until now. But it seemed that Chat wasn’t ready to reveal himself yet, and Marinette still had time to prepare.

She ascended the steps and headed to the classroom.

What she wasn’t expecting, was seeing Adrien standing there, sunlight filtering through the window to make a halo in his hair. He wore a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and had a dozen pink roses in his hands as he talked to Nino.

Dare she hope? Dare she dream?

She just stood in the doorway, staring, before he noticed her.

“Good morning, Marinette.” He smiled at her, looking warm and inviting and…nervous?

“Goo-goo-good morning, Adrien.” She stumbled. She glanced down to the flowers, then up to his face. “Um…those don’t happen to be for me, do they?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he smirked. “Why? Just because something is pink, you think it’s for you?”

She deflated. “Haha, right…that was really forward of me.”

With a pleasant hum, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I’m just messing with you, My Lady. These are for you.” He placed the bouquet in her shell-shocked hands.

“My...?” She breathed. The word was just a whisper, barely heard by even him.

His smile was broad and gleeful, squinting his eyes and coloring his cheeks. “Mmm-hmm!!” He hummed eagerly as he nodded.

Marinette had to shut her eyes as a sound like a laugh and a sob burst from her lips. Tears started immediately, and there was no way to stop it.

“I told you you would cry,” he teased.

“You jerk!” She blubbered. Then she tossed the flowers at a confused Nino before throwing her arms around Adrien, and sobbing into his shoulder. “I love you, Kitty.”

He squeezed her back. “Do you really? Because I’m getting mixed signals.”

“You’re awful. You’re wonderful. I’m a mixed bag of emotions. Just hold me.”

“Can do!”

As other students came in, seeing the couple embraced, they gave them thumbs up and congratulatory back pats.

And then Lila entered.

She halted, hid her sneer, and said, “oh no! Marinette! What’s wrong? Why are you crying on Adrien like that?”

He patted Marinette’s hair. “Happy tears, no worries.”

Marinette refused to let Lila ruin this moment. It was far too perfect. Adrien was far too perfect, the flowers, her kitty...

Mustering all her strength, she hooked her arms under his, turned and spun his into a dip.

“My lady?” He breathed, in awe.

“You’re the love of my life. I should have kissed you yesterday. I definitely wanted to.”

“You did?” He smiled drunkenly.

“Yes, like this.” And she slammed her lips to his, kissing him just like she had in her dreams.

Adrien let out a contented little mewl as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

The class went wild with roars and cheers.

Before she could drop him, Marinette righted Adrien. “Sorry, I just...wanted to do that for a while now.”

Adrien nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “Oh don’t worry, Bugaboo. You can smooch me whenever.”

Nino made a gagging sound.

“Oh, well I’m very happy for you guys,” Lila feigned a smile. “But Adrien, are you sure your father will be okay with this?”

Chloe, who had known this was coming since she saw the roses, stood and stalked over. “Okay, you’re done. Bye!”

“Chloe, I’m just trying to be rational...”

“And Adrien is the most deserving person for a happy ending...even if it’s with Dupain-Cheng.” She cast Marinette a glance and rolled her eyes. Then she looked back at Lila. “Though, he could do worse.”

This made Marinette and Adrien giggle.

Lila scoffed. “Fine! Make me the bad guy! But don’t come crying to me when Gabriel tells you to break it off!”

Adrien whispered in his new girlfriend’s ear. “Even if my father makes Adrien and Marinette break up, Ladybug and Chat Noir follow their own rules. It might not be the most fun, but we’ll make it. Then, once I’m 18, I’ll propose.”

Marinette laughed, kissing him swiftly. “Oh my sweet kitty. Let’s take it slow for a little while. We have the rest of our lives to be that insufferable couple.”

Alya, who had come in not that long after Marinette but stood quietly in the door, finally spoke up. “Adrien, I couldn’t bear to tear you away from your Princess. So I’ll take your seat.”

Adrien just grinned in gratitude and hugged Marinette. “This makes that building collapse yesterday totally worth it.”

“Does that mean...you had a crush on me?” She teased.

“No, my Lady, I fell for you.”

#miraculous ladybug #identity reveal #marichat #adrienette #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #fanfiction #I joined the ML writers discord but like

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sunjaesol · 4 years

Text

my sweet romantic teenage nights

juke | high school + diner au | title: scenes from an italian restaurant // billy joel

Magenta’s Palace was an artefact from the glorious American Dream; a fluorescent gem wrapped in that 60s architecture and old-fashioned uniforms. It was also the hang-out spot of most LF Arts students, right in the heart of Los Feliz and on most kids’ path.

Luke used to roll his eyes at the place, thinking it was corny and certainly not the place a punk-rocker like him would go… until he tasted their gnarly waffles. And burgers. And milkshakes. His love for good food trumped his desire for street cred and ended up like the rest of his peers: a regular at MP.

Alex and Reggie never had qualms with it. The former was rather happy Luke got over himself and Reggie was simply pleased to spend more time with his friends. It became tradition to eat there every Friday after school. Sometimes they stayed until the early hours of the night talking, sometimes it was to fuel up before a gig.

Settling in their booth (theirs - Luke has made sure to carve the underside of the table with their names), Luke sighed contently. “Boys, this gig is gonna be fire.”

“I still don’t know how you convinced the guys at Raven’s Nest,” Alex mused, glancing around for a waitress in a candycane-coloured uniform.

Reggie nodded gravely. “Yeah, they’re scary.”

“Used my charm,” he smirked. “Dialled it up like I always do.”

The blonde snorted. “Sure.”

Luke’s face crashed. “Fine. I used our fake’s when he didn’t believe we were eighteen.”

His friends grinned, Alex snapping his fingers. “There it is.”

The chipper Nora glided towards them, slaloming between tables with her notebook. Alex’ remark didn’t bother him, crossing his arms with a shrug. “Does it matter? I got us in. They’re gonna love us. Nay! They’re gonna eat this set up!”

“You better be right - hi, Nora - cause it’s a bar for bikers. Real ass bikers,” Alex replied, shooting Nora a smile.

“Hello, boys,” she greeted, her signature red hair tied in a messy bun. Reg used to have a crush on her when they first visited, until they realised she was twenty-three and in a committed relationship with a guy from USC studying medicine. Yeah, he had no shot. Luke had to console him by buying five chocolate shakes and blasting Elvis Presley in the car.

Despite this, Reggie still had a soft spot for her, smiling kindly at the waitress. “Our usual, please.”

The notebook got tucked in her apron with a bright nod. “Coming right up!”

As Nora swiftly returned behind the glossy bartop, parlaying the order to the kitchen, the entrance opened. The bell above chimed, three girls appearing beneath it.

Oh, shit.

When Luke enrolled into LF Arts as a green fourteen year old, he had planned to only focus on music and nothing else. He’d blaze through his classes and become the best in music and then, with his obsessive nature at a peak, would launch the band into the next stratosphere. That was the plan. Music, music, music. (And food from Magenta’s.)

Fourteen year old Luke wasn’t aware girls like Julie Molina existed though. That changed on the first day. She came to the front of the class, blew everyone away with a Taylor Swift cover and shot a toothy smile when she finished - like it was nothing. Like she didn’t have the voice of the century. (Like she wouldn’t mess with Luke’s plans of becoming the best, damn it!) Though his initial reaction was envy, he quickly realised it was rather a disgruntled crush than actual dismay.

She was cute. Still cute. After every summer break, he expected her to be less pretty so that his nerves could calm down for once. Nope. Julie Molina was pretty as hell.

He has never seen her here on Friday’s. Why now? Why now when they were mentally preparing themselves for a gig that could get them their asses kicked if they didn’t perform well? Luke needed to focus! Not think about where she’d sit and what she’d talk about and what she was going to eat.

His eyes tracked as Julie, Flynn and Kayla were in busy conversation, barely aware of their surroundings. Her head rolled back in a laugh at something Flynn said, eyes shut in glee. Luke flushed red, averting his gaze to the scratched up table. His friends were snickering, Alex muttering a ‘Jesus…’ under his breath.

Luke snapped his arm. “Stop being a dick.”

“Why don’t you just ask her out?”, Reggie pondered, absentmindedly making origami with the thin napkins.

“I think he needs to talk to her first to do that,” Alex teased before Luke could respond, earning another glare.

It wasn’t like he and Julie never spoke. They were seniors, they had multiple classes together and spent many hours cooped in the same music classroom. He was even part of her group project in junior year! They’ve talked! But it never lead to anything, his lingering stares falling for her oblivious profile, her never once looking back at him.

The connection Luke always craved hasn’t been there, though he always felt like they could have that. Musical spirits were alike, right? At least his crush wasn’t as hopeless as Reggie’s on Nora.

The girls chose a booth right next to theirs, Julie in his direct line of sight. Alex was buzzing in his seat from stifled laughter, visibly trying to not turn his head and address them. The guitarist felt like dying, not even the steaming plates of burgers set in front of them enough to lift his mood.

Luke leaned forward, voice a hiss. “I can talk to her. I just… haven’t felt the need to.”

Reggie patted his shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, buddy. You don’t have to lie to us.”

Frustration began simmering his skin, the scowl deepening. He wasn’t lying! Maybe a little! He’s been waiting for the right time to approach her, say and do the right thing to sweep her off her feet like the fucking rockstar he was. Had he been preparing his lines since he was fourteen? Also maybe. They were being revised.

Alex often told him he shouldn’t put Julie on a pedestal. That she was just a girl. It made him wonder if he was the only one that first day of high school that felt it. That awestruck whooping in his chest from seeing her curls dance around her almond eyes and hear how each lyric was laced with a passionate smile. Even at fourteen was he aware of how special that was. Julie wasn’t just a girl. She was the coolest girl he’s ever met and he didn’t even know her that well. He couldn’t imagine actually becoming friends with her, uncovering all facets of her personality and not get overwhelmed by her Julie-ness.

Huh. His crush went deeper than he thought. Yikes.

At the end of the day, Luke could admit that he was simply a teenage boy nervous to talk to a girl. ‘Nervous’ was like a curse word to him though, that admission a secret he’d take with him to the grave.

“Eh,” Alex quipped, egging him on. “Luke’s a terrible liar. He doesn’t have to tell us for us to know it’s true.”

His hands slammed down on the table, words spouting from his lips. “Girls! Can we get your napkin dispenser?!”

Fucking fantastic, Luke.

All three perked up in surprise, Flynn twisting in her booth to curl her nose and tilt her head. “Why?”

“It’s empty,” he bluffed.

Kayla craned her neck and instantly caught Reggie’s handiwork scattered across the table. “No, it’s not.”

Julie sat next to her, blinking in confusion. “Why do you need our napkins?”

Her smooth voice directed right at him caused a thrill up his spine, a grin involuntarily tugging on his lips. “Cause Reggie needs them for his crafts.” Playing along, the bassist lifted a janky frog with a wink. “I’m very dedicated.”

She matched Luke’s smile, amused. It was the most interaction he has had with her in months, the utter euphoria of it all bursting at the seams. Propelled by her smile, he slid out the booth and into Alex’ side, throwing his arms over the seat right next to Flynn’s head. The girl remained deeply unimpressed by him, gaze flicking past his physique. Damn. If he ever wanted to get anywhere with Julie, he had to get in Flynn’s good grazes. Kayla seemed chill though.

“What’s with the frown, Felicity?”, he joked.

Kayla giggled at the mention of Flynn’s actual name, the girl in question rolling her eyes. “All I’m wondering is why you have to bother us about napkins, Lukas.”

“Flynn,” Julie shook her head with an exasperated grin, “maybe wait for your strawberry shake? I think you’re being hangry.”

Her friend loosened up, sinking back in her seat with a playful pout and mumbling a resigned ‘fine.’

Luke took that as his sign to continue. His gaze fell back on Julie, hoping he wouldn’t sound too eager. “You guys come here a lot? I haven’t seen you here on Friday’s.”

“Who’re you asking?”, Julie asked, looking between her and Kayla. Oh, man. Small talk really wasn’t his forte. He couldn’t charm himself out of this one with music jargon or fake IDs.

His smile turned stressed, flailing his hand around. “Uh, all of you.”

“Sure,” Flynn snorted.

Alex slapped a hand on his mouth at her retort, almost in pain of not laughing his ass off. The prize of ‘Worst Friends Ever’ went to Luke’s - for fuck’s sake, couldn’t the drummer at least try and help him out?!

“Just wanted to celebrate Kayla’s good mark on her new song,” Julie continued, wilfully ignoring the other’s behaviour. Slinging an arm around her friend, she shot her a bright smile. “Her bridge was amazing, right?”

All three boys nodded fervently as Kayla ducked her head bashfully, murmuring a ‘thank you’ and then relieved from all the attention when Nora walked up to them. Luke’s body didn’t twist to sit normally again, too invested in finally speaking to them, finally having that contact, that he didn’t even care if he seemed like a weirdo. Julie and him! Conversing!

“Speaking of music,” he casually uttered when Nora was off again. His signature smirk crawled on his lips. “We’re playing a gig tonight.”

This peaked Flynn’s interest. Perhaps the prospect of food made her more amicable. “Where?”

“Raven’s Nest,” Reggie proudly proclaimed.

Kayla frowned, worried. “Isn’t that the bar with all the bikes outside?”

“Thank you!”, Alex exclaimed with a sigh. “It’s insane!”

“It’s not,” Luke bit back. If Sunset Curve wanted to make it big, they had to play big! Gigs like these would get them on the stages they dreamed of. Soon, it was goodbye, Raven’s Nest and hello, The Orpheum! “Real Californians go there to hear real fucking music.”

To his surprise, Julie hummed in agreement. “My dad says it used to be where the subculture kids hung out before MP got cool.”

“Yes!” His grin was huge now, overflowing with joy. This was enough adrenaline to get him through three gigs at once! His finger pressed into the cracked leather. “Exactly! And we’re gonna slay it. You should come watch!”

The latter blurted out without wanting to, his eyes growing wide in panic as Reggie and Alex stilled in their seats and Flynn peered up at him with laser-focus. Shit. Was he telling on himself? Did she pierce through the charisma that this was just a poor attempt at flirting? God, he really should’ve prepared his speech for impulsive moments like these.

Luke still needed to endure some growing pains before he got good at flirting.

Julie chuckled, a hint of red appearing on her cheekbones. It enthralled him. Was she embarrassed or flattered? “Uh,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know if I can get in. Don’t you have to be eighteen?”

He raised his brow. “C’mon, you don’t have a fake?” At those words, Alex dropped his head on the table with a thud. Luke had enough of his own shit too. ‘Mortified’ didn’t even come close to how he felt about his blabbering mouth.

Levelling his challenged look, however, he realised he wasn’t lost quite yet. Julie’s eyes glittered with mischief. “I do, actually.”

Breath caught in his throat. Yup. Coolest fucking girl in the universe. Julie Molina had a killer voice and a fake ID and probably did a whole lot of other dope stuff he hadn’t found out yet.

“Julie,” Flynn but in. “It’s a biker bar.”

“Where our classmates are playing,” she argued. “I can always try.”

“You’ll die.”

“I think I’ll be fine. Like Luke said-” No. She could not say his name and expect him to keep his cool. His fingers gripped the conjoined couch tighter. “-everyone’s there for the music.”

A careful smile slowly grew on Kayla. “We can tell your dad you’re with us.”

Flynn gaped at her. “We-?! I- okay.” Lifting her hands in surrender, she added: “Fine, we’ll tell Ray you’re at the movies with us.”

Wait, was Julie turning down a movie night with her friends to see him play? Did that mean something? Has he been so focused on trying to find or create a ‘vibe’ that he forgot to actually look for signs of her own? Damn. Now he really couldn’t screw this set up. Sunset Curve was gonna play until their hands bled, hopefully impressing her just a little bit.

It was settled then. After both groups had eaten, Julie separated from hers and joined them on their trek to Raven’s Nest. She was mostly talking to Reggie behind Alex and Luke, animatedly recounting a story about Carlos nearly crashing his drone in her keyboard. Jitters began to tingle his skin, that building excitement right before a gig mixing with Julie’s presence. It felt like one of his dreams materialised out of thin air.

How many times has he dreamt about catching her eye in the crowd as he crooned love songs he never dared to write? Granted, those dreams were centered in a hazier setting, Raven’s Nest quite unromantic opposed to that, but he would take what he got.

(And after, they’d worm their way through the masses of people, meeting halfway, and she’d sling her arms around his neck and he’d pull her into a kiss and it’d be electric. She’d kiss like she sang. It was a recurring dream that left him in a good mood for hours.)

Without much hesitance, the bouncer let Julie in. Luke, unable to keep his giddiness at bay, squeezed her shoulder as a dazzling beam was glued to his cheeks. Julie got in! Julie was going to see him play!

Raven’s Nest was expectedly filled with bearded, burly men. It reeked of beer and strong liquor, raucous chatter spilling from ever corner. They all probably looked like babies in comparison to these dudes, but he supposed his unfaltering confidence made up for it. Luke would get his boys (and Julie) through this. The stage was already prepared for them, amps and mics set up, Alex’ drums waiting in Reggie’s van behind the establishment.

“I’ve seen you play before, you know,” Julie mumbled beside him.

His heart soared without trying, its rate going a mile a minute as his jaw fell slack. All his nerves intensified till a blush crept on his cheeks. “You- you have?”

Her curious eyes flitted from the people to him, sheepish. “Yeah. At Ecliptica. You guys were good.”

A clammy hand raked the ends of his hair. Holy fucking shit. “You sounded like you never heard us before.”

“I didn’t want to seem like a fangirl, or something.” A secretive smile formed on her lips as she leaned into his side. “You know how school is. Everyone trying to be the best, but then act super casual about it?” Her eyes sparked in the yellow lighting, too close for him to think straight. “I didn’t want it to inflate you guys’ egos.”

Luke sputtered out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re doing it right now, Julie.”

“Then you better kill it,” she teased, nodding at Alex and Reggie hauling the drums onstage from the back door. “I think that’s your cue.”

There were two things he thought of right as he ascended the stage.

One, Julie was fat better at this whole back and forth than he was.

Two, he had to direct at least one song to her from their thirty minute set. Just one. Just so that his feelings might come across. Where words ended, music bled from his soul instead.

And so, the band exploded into what they knew best: burning the fucking house down.

So we’re taking the long way home 'Cause I don’t wanna be wasting my time alone I wanna get lost and drive forever with you Talking 'bout nothing, yeah, whatever, baby So we’re taking the long way home tonight We're taking the long way home

The giggly teenagers ended back in the diner after the incredible gig, shouting from the adrenaline and jostling arms to get points across. Even Julie joined in, much to his delight, tucked between him and the wall as she had a heated debate with an excited Reggie - harmonies versus basslines. Lemonades filled in condensed glasses gave them sticky fingers, hers once pushing his chin away when he told a particularly dumb joke and leaving an imprint. Luke was on fucking cloud nine.

Taking the upper hand in the debate, Julie sang a bit of one of their songs (“Let's seize the day, let's run away, don't let the colours fade to grey!”) with all the tricks in the book, silencing Reggie just like that. Alex high fived Julie, the bassist admitting she won this time. Deeply relishing the sound of her singing voice, Luke barely caught what she was saying after.

“This time?”, she laughed. “There’s another time?”

“Why not?” Reggie wiggled his brows, unsubtle as hell when he shot Luke a wink. “Diner Friendship Memories Still To Be Made!”

Alex blinked. “What?”

Her eyes tracked past the boys, the smile turning more timid. It settled on Luke, the boy unable and unwilling to look away. He wanted this night to never end. Clasping her lemonade, she nodded firmly, as if signing Reggie’s silly Friendship Contract.

“Yeah… why not.”

Magenta’s Palace became Luke favourite place in the entire world. Every Friday, Julie joined the boys at their booth, sometimes Kayla and Flynn too. Huddled in those red leather seats with mountains of fries, they shared the first slivers of newfound friendship. Luke has always been very cautious about who he let in his circle (Sunset Curve against The World), but six people in a booth felt cosy rather than suffocating. Like it was always to be like this.

Reggie found an equally enthusiastic jazz lover in Kayla. Alex confided with Flynn that he followed her playlists on Spotify and was obsessed with her DJ skills.

Luke and Julie created their own bubble without trying to.

It was weird. Maybe Alex was right and Luke did put her on a pedestal for so long. Julie was genuinely chill and easy to talk to, probably turned off by him before cause he had been acting like a blubbering idiot. Simply being himself was, surprisingly, more than enough for her. It lit a fire inside of him. Snarky banter about music that challenged him to keep up, overt flirting from him that kept her blushing, sudden ideas about lyrics that threw either for a loop. He wouldn’t admit it at first, but she made him a better songwriter.

Who knew his best songs would be found on stained paper napkins?

One Friday night, long past midnight, the group stood outside as they bid each other a good weekend. Bathed in the pink glow of the LED lights, Luke felt it in his gut. He had to tell her. These past weeks his feelings had only grown tenfold, this incessant buzz rippling every atom of his body whenever she was close. Whenever she smiled, talked, sang. Stealing his beanie, eating his fries, sharing AirPods. Luke loved it all.

It was a lot more than a simple crush.

After Julie hugged Alex, Luke grabbed her into a tight hug. She instantly responded, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing herself in his red hoodie. His infatuated smile was hidden by her curls, so fucking happy he’d been impulsive enough to ask for a dispenser that day.

“Hey, Julie,” he whispered.

She looked up, eyes alight with an emotion that left his shivering. “Yeah?”

“Uh…” A smile trembled on his lips, unsure whether he wanted to drown in the pretty brown of her irises or continue talking. Now or never. “You wanna get breakfast tomorrow? With me?”

He didn’t have to live in the fear for long, a smile stretching across her cheeks as she shyly nodded. It was the first time he’d ever seen her this flustered, their hold on each other securing with quiet glee. Had he not been so mesmerised, the awestruck Luke would run a mile from the adrenaline rush.

“Yeah,” she grinned, nose scrunched. “Sounds fun.”

They found themselves in the same spot the next day, the taste of syrupy pancakes melting with his as he kissed her on the parking lot of Magenta’s Palace. Julie’s lips curled into a smile and Luke figured there was no better feeling in the world then that.

(Yeah, he could get used to this.)

Saturday’s mornings had never been sweeter.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better

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mintaka14 · 3 years

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This is the start of my newest multi-chapter Lukanette story, and a Dammit Quick! fic. To the LBSC crowd - you’re all a pack of enablers, so have some Disney music-nerd angst/fluff with a Julerose wedding for good measure.

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter One – All Those Years

Luka Couffaine got the shock of his life when, six months before his sister’s wedding, his past walked onto the boat. She moved with an assurance that she’d never had at fourteen. A little older at twenty-four, a little less arms-and-legs and a little more rounded curves, but still with those same devastating blue eyes.

Her hand curled on the rail, and he realised he was staring.

“Luka,” she said. “Hi.”

“Ma-ma-marinette,” he managed, and that mouth of hers lifted in a tentative smile. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been a while,” she agreed softly. “How are you?”

He said something, he wasn’t sure what.

“I take it Juleka didn’t mention that I was coming,” she said. “I’ve offered to design the dresses for the wedding, and she suggested I come round today to talk about them. Are you… is it okay that I’m here?”

At that, Luka jolted out of his distraction and offered her a more genuine smile.

“Marinette, it’s more than okay. It’s good to see you again. You’re looking well.”

Her own smile grew a little brighter, and she flicked a quick glance down and back up to meet his eyes again. “So are you.”

“Marinette! You made it!” Rose’s shriek cut off any response he might have made. Rose barrelled up the steps from the galley and past him to engulf Marinette in a tight hug, with Juleka not far behind. Luka had a moment to collect himself while they caught up. All in all, he thought he’d handled it pretty well. He hadn’t actually swallowed his tongue.

Marinette flashed a brief, rueful smile at him over her shoulder as Rose towed her below deck, leaving Luka to pull his scattered thoughts together. He hadn’t seen her in ten years and she could still bowl him over at first sight. He turned absently to the stack of papers he’d been working on when she arrived, barely seeing them.

He hadn’t made much progress half an hour later, and gave up, heading down to the galley. A burst of laughter drew his attention and in the other room he could see Marinette wielding a tape measure around his sister with brisk efficiency, while Rose sat on the table, swinging her legs as she flicked through a plain black sketchbook. He’d seen plenty of the same type of book back when he’d been spending a lot of time with Marinette all those years ago. He leaned in the doorway, unnoticed, watching Marinette at work.

It had always been hard to define exactly what made Marinette so overwhelming whenever he saw her. Maybe it was the sense of intensity and creative fire, as if her skin could barely contain everything that she was, or the fierce, giving heart that shone within her. Maybe it was the endless blue of her eyes that spoke to him of a limitless horizon. It seemed like none of that had changed.

What had changed was the dizzying rush he felt as she bent to pick up something and he found himself following the tight curve of her jeans and the contour of her strong, lean legs. He jerked his wayward gaze away, trying to fight down the heat in his cheeks and the fleeting speculation about what it might be like to have those legs wrapped around him, and those beautiful eyes of hers on him while he … God, Couffaine, get your mind out of the gutter! It had been ten years since he’d last seen her, and these were not appropriate thoughts to be having barely thirty minutes and less than a handful of words of conversation after she’d turned up in his life again.

She had always been a pretty girl, but that was nothing to the gorgeous woman she’d grown into.

He would have bet money that the jeans hugging those legs like a second skin were her own design, and the silky red shirt sliding artfully off one shoulder but never quite falling looked like it had come straight from the fashion week runway. The way Marinette filled it, though, was far more distracting than any model could have ever made it.

The pigtails were another thing that was gone, but he didn’t spare them more than a moment of nostalgia, because the blue-black satin of her hair was caught up in a knot that left the smooth line of her neck bare, and that was a whole other train of thought that he cut off quickly. He looked up to find that she was watching him with a quizzical expression, and he managed to answer it with a smile of his own before Rose noticed him standing there.

“Luka!” she called out. “You have got to see what Marinette’s come up with for us!”

She was practically bouncing, and shoved the sketchbook at him. He looked at Marinette, one eyebrow raised in a question, before he opened it.

“If Marinette’s okay with that,” he said. Marinette’s mouth lifted in a smile at that.

“Marinette’s okay with that,” she told him, and he opened the cover. The slim book was full of designs and scribbled ideas and notes on wedding dresses. He’d seen her fourteen year old designs, and been impressed by them, but this… this was a whole other level, which, he supposed, wasn’t surprising. He turned through the pages slowly. He paused on one that was clearly meant for Juleka.

“Wow,” he said softly.

“That’s one of my favourites, too,” Marinette said. She’d come to look over his shoulder, and he was finding that rather unsettling for some reason. “Juleka’s so elegant, she could wear just about anything, but I like that structure for her.”

“It feels like her.” He glanced up at Marinette. “Dangerous edges, with just a bit of sweetness underneath.”

Marinette turned another few pages, and waited for Luka to find it.

“Rose,” he grinned back at her. “Channelling her inner Disney princess?”

“The brief was Sleeping Beauty, live action, but more -” Marinette gestured extravagantly, opening her eyes wide, and from the table where she was perched, Rose stuck out her tongue at them.

“It’s my wedding, and I’ll princess if I want to,” Rose sniffed.

Luka glanced back at the sketch, and was impressed all over again. Marinette had somehow turned flowers and glitter and pink and Rose into a few lines of charcoal and caught it on the page. Her own special brand of magic.

On the other side of the room, Juleka looked up from her phone.

“I’ve just ordered takeaway, and Ivan and Mylène are on their way,” she told them, and levelled a look at Marinette. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

By the time Marinette had been talked into it, and Ivan and Mylène had turned up in a bustle of exclamations and hugs and chatter, Luka had recovered something of his equilibrium. As darkness fell over the river and the lights strung up across the boat spilled a soft light over the deck, Luka handed Marinette a glass of wine and settled into the deck chair beside her.

“You’re wearing a tie these days,” she said with a hint of mischief, and he glanced down at the shirt he’d rolled up over his tattooed forearms and the tie he’d forgotten he was still wearing. “I never pictured you in the kind of career that would need a tie.”

He pulled himself together enough to smile easily back at her. “Well, it’s been a while. A few things have changed. I see you’re not wearing those pigtails anymore,” he teased her, and her hand went to the soft satin twist of her hair.

“No.” Marinette leaned back in the chair, her wine glass in hand, and her eyes were on Rose and Ivan arguing amicably about something. There was an indefinable sense of distance in her that had never been there when they were kids, and he wondered what had happened to put that there.

“So when did you get back in touch with Jules? She didn’t mention that she’d seen you.”

“I was showing a couple of pieces at something Juleka was modelling at a while ago. We bumped into each other backstage, and when she mentioned that she and Rose were getting married I offered to make up the dresses for them. My wedding present to them,” she said with a self-conscious smile, and Luka couldn’t help a soft laugh.

“Only you would do that for someone you haven’t seen in years.”

“They’re still friends.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

Rose was standing on a stack of crates now, singing something about rainbows, while Juleka hooked an arm around her to keep her from overbalancing and Mylène snorted with laughter. Marinette looked over at them a little wistfully.

“It’s nice to be back in touch with the old Kitty Section crew,” she admitted. “It was nice to reconnect with Juleka… and you. I’ve missed that.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Luka said quietly. “Do you see much of the old school crowd?”

Marinette shrugged. “Not really. I run into Adrien from time to time. I see him at the fashion shows sometimes, but honestly, once we get past the awkward reminiscing about collège, and industry stuff, we don’t really have a whole lot to talk about these days. I’ve sort of lost touch with everyone else.”

“How about Alya?” he asked. Luka had never really warmed to the brash journalist-in-the-making, with all her Adrien-schemes, but she’d been best friends with Marinette back in the day.

“No.” The one word was oddly expressionless. “I haven’t see her in a few years.”

There was a heartbeat when he thought she was going to say something else, then those lashes of hers dropped. Instead, when she looked up again there was that mischievous spark in her eyes again, and she said, “So what convinced you to put on a tie? Although I notice you didn’t get rid of your blue hair.” Was that an approving note in her voice? He ran his hand a little self-consciously through the longer, teal-tipped sweep of his dark hair, rubbing at the shorter hairs at the back of his neck. “What are you doing these days?”

“Playing the occasional gig whenever I get the chance, selling my music from time to time, teaching…”

“Teaching?”

He named the lycèe.

“Lucky students.” Marinette tilted her head to regard him speculatively, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I’m having a hard time seeing you as M. Couffaine, though.”

“Just Luka. I’m the cool teacher that half the faculty hates because I undermine authority.”

“And the other half madly crush on,” Marinette suggested, and Luka felt himself flush. She could still throw him off-balance, all these years later, although it was in a different way now. The fourteen year old Marinette he remembered would never have been able to say something like that without self-combusting, but here she was, watching him with that mischievous glint in her beautiful blue eyes, and it was just another reminder that things had changed.

“What about you?” he deflected. He gestured at the sketchbook she’d left on a nearby table with her handbag. “Following the dream?”

She gave a wry little smile. “Oh, I got through my degree in fashion design somehow, and I’ve been running a bespoke atelier out of my bedroom. It’s not huge, but it pays the bills, and at least it gives me a certain amount of … flexibility.” Luka couldn’t understand the slight twist of her mouth at the word, but she had it smoothed out before he could be sure he’d really seen it. “And Ja… a few high profile people have been very kind and sent work my way.”

Luka felt certain he knew who the celebrity had been. For that alone, he could forgive his father a lot. There was a long silence while Marinette contemplated her empty wine glass, then she met his eyes.

“You have no idea how sorry I am that I broke up with you like that, right when you were going through everything with... I just made everything worse, and it wasn’t fair on you. I never really found a way to tell you that I was sorry for everything.”

“Marinette, no!” Luka straightened in his deckchair, a faint frown crossing his face. “We were kids. I’ve always felt badly that I put you under more pressure when you were clearly having a hard time with something.”

“There was a fair bit of that going around,” she conceded, and let out a shuddering breath that he didn’t realise she’d been holding. “But you have nothing to apologise for, you had every right to be upset about how I treated you. I regret a lot of things about back then.”

“I don’t regret that we tried,” Luka said with unintentional intensity, and Marinette’s eyes widened a little. “But I do regret that I lost you out of my life altogether. You always had the most fascinating way of seeing things, and I missed just hanging out and talking to you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after all that. And I thought it was saf -“ she cut herself off abruptly, changing what she’d been going to say, “- better if I stayed away.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything in response.

She gave him a sidelong look. “I never really got the chance to ask you, did you… how did things go with Jagged in the end? Do you talk to him?”

Luka’s expression turned wry. “It’s complicated. It’s always complicated with Jagged, but we talk a bit. He’s going to be there for the wedding. Not sure how that’s going to go.”

Marinette made a sympathetic noise. He thought for a moment that she was going to ask him for the details, but instead, with another swift, perceptive glance from those blue eyes of hers, she changed the subject.

“So what’s teaching like, M. Couffaine?” she asked lightly, and he settled back to tell her some of his stories, enjoying the ripple of laughter he drew from her over his students’ antics, and the chuckles she surprised out of him with her own tales about clients and their most outrageous demands. He had no idea how late it had grown when the conversation was interrupted by a chorus of phones chiming all at once from various corners of the Liberty. Ivan was the first to reach his.

“Akuma alert,” he sighed. “Aw, man, they’ve shut down septième. Traffic getting home is going to be hell.”

“What’s the bet that it’s the Eiffel Tower again?” Juleka muttered.

Mylène was shaking her head. “Hawkmoth, and now Swallowtail, and there was that weird thing with the rats a few years ago, and the government keeps pretending that there’s nothing they can do as long as they can just dump it all on Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with the problem. We’re still working on getting subsidies for mental health therapies, but they keep stonewalling us.”

Marinette was getting to her feet.

“I really should go,” she said reluctantly, and Luka stood as she gathered up her bag and sketchbook. “It was… really nice to catch up again, Luka. It’s been far too long.”

“Oh, but you’ll be back again soon, right?” Rose cut in before Luka could say anything. “There’ll be fittings for the wedding dresses, and we’re not letting you lose contact again like that. We’ve missed you, right, Luka?”

Luka ignored Rose’s unsubtle nudge, and Marinette said her goodbyes to the rest of their friends.

“It’s good to see you again, Marinette,” he told her, and accepted the light bise she brushed against his cheek. He caught a hint of vanilla and sugar as she leaned in, and oh hell, it suddenly hit him why the smell of cookies had always left him with a faint and peculiar sense of homesickness when his mother had never baked a cookie in her life. He closed his eyes briefly, and let Marinette go before he could do something stupid.

Luka watched her safely down to the dock, and he absolutely was not fixating on the sway of those jeans as she walked away, holy crap, and turned back to meet Rose’s hopeful and utterly transparent look.

“So-oo,” his future sister-in-law said with overdone nonchalance. “You and Marinette looked like you were having a good time together.”

“Don’t go getting ideas, Ro.”

“Rose,” Juleka muttered warningly from the bench where she was sitting, but Rose ignored her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently. “I just want you to be happy Luka. It looked like you were really happy tonight. And it was great to see Marinette again.”

“No ideas,” he repeated, and Rose gave him a look of deep disappointment. She started collecting the empty takeaway containers, while Luka rounded up the glasses. Rose dropped a kiss on Juleka’s mouth on the way past, and flitted down into the galley. Juleka heaved a put-upon sigh, and swung herself gracefully to her feet, scooping up a couple of stray cushions.

Luka picked up Marinette’s wineglass, with the soft pink imprint of her lipstick.

“You didn’t mention that Marinette would be coming round,” he said, his back to his sister. “You didn’t mention that you’d been in touch with her again.”

Juleka shrugged, and dumped the cushions in one of the storage boxes on the deck. “Didn’t think it mattered. It was ten years ago. You’re not still hung up on what happened back then, are you?”

“No, of course not.” And he was pretty sure that was true. This felt like he’d been blindsided by Marinette Dupain-Cheng in a whole new way.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #see the light #this is disney nerds #julerose wedding #they're still idiots #tangled

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

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Waking Up

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge.

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. I ended up adding about 600 words, which at this point should just be expected from me 😂.

The prompt I used this time around was: Marinette gets cursed with a sleeping spell that can only be broken by a true love's kiss. (Spoiler: it's not the prince.)

Read on Ao3

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open to absolute chaos.

Everyone was shouting and scurrying back and forth, carrying plates and clothes and food, orders were barked and obeyed, but above all the ruckus, there was a ringing voice that seemed too close to be so loud as she struggled into wakefulness.

“It wasn’t supposed to be you!”

The pained words forced themselves through her consciousness, and she gradually registered the voice they belonged to. Prince Adrien from the neighboring kingdom, her betrothed. But she wasn’t supposed to see him again for two years, not until the wedding on her eighteenth birthday. Why… why was he here? And why was he yelling?

When she was able to focus, her eyes settled on Prince Adrien’s twisted scowl aimed at…

A hand tightened around hers and she looked up to find Luka, her childhood friend who worked in the kitchen, standing by her side, rigid, unflinching in the face of Prince Adrien’s wrath.

“What…?” she asked when she found her voice. It felt like the word was dragged out of her; her tongue was a fuzzy, thick, unfamiliar thing in her mouth. She tried to sit up, but Luka put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

“Rest, love,” he murmured. Her eyebrows knitted together. He’d never called her that before.

Adrien marched over, his eyes narrowed and his face reddening by the second. “How long?”

“Prince Adrien, this is hardly the time—” Luka started.

“She’s betrothed to me,” Adrien spat at Luka. Marinette gripped Luka’s hand a little tighter. She’d never seen Prince Adrien like this.

“She’s betrothed to the one who wakes her,” Luka fired back.

“Which wasn’t supposed to be you!” Adrien repeated. “My family connections, the political advantages—”

“Mean nothing.” Luka’s voice was tight and his hand squeezed around hers. “She’s in love with me. And besides, you know the king’s decree.”

Marinette glanced between them, her head still spinning. “What’s going on?” she finally managed to ask, barely above a croaky whisper.

Luka crouched beside her and brushed her hair away from her eyes. “You’ve been asleep,” he said softly.

“I… I know? But—” She looked around again and noticed one of the servants flying past with a wedding dress hoisted over her shoulder. “Who’s getting married?”

Prince Adrien’s jaw clenched so hard she thought she heard his teeth crack. Luka barely spared him a glance.

“You and I are,” he said.

Her face scrunched together as she tried to understand. “But I’m not old enough, yet, not for two years.”

“No, Marinette,” Luka said slowly. “The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow. On your eighteenth birthday. As soon as—”

“As soon as I woke you from your curse,” Adrien interjected. “And I for one would like to know how long this has been happening.”

“Curse?” Marinette repeated blankly. “I don’t understand…” She clutched Luka’s hand tighter as fear started to replace confusion. “Luka, what’s going on?”

Luka locked his eyes on hers, but he directed his words towards Adrien. “I’ve been in love with Marinette since the moment we met.” His thumb ghosted across the back of her hand. “I didn’t think… Not for one second did I let myself think it would work.” He seemed to be apologizing, but she didn’t know what for.

“Then why’d you do it?” Adrien asked. Luka’s sincere blue eyes didn’t move from hers.

“I missed you.” A small, simple declaration made only to her. “I… I kissed your hand, to say goodbye, since—and he’s right, it wasn’t supposed to be me, but it was and—” He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles before he dragged in a shaky breath. “You’ve been asleep for two years, Marinette. Under a curse. And true love’s kiss was the only thing that could break it.” His eyes were shining with unshed tears and understanding started to dawn on her.

Some part of her had always known. And here was her proof. The kingdom’s proof. She was in love with Luka. She was going to marry Luka. The thought at once terrified and thrilled her.

“We’re getting married,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his face as if unsure he was real. He leaned into her touch and let out a content sigh. “When?”

“As soon as you want. Your father, the king, he—” His eyes flicked over to Prince Adrien warily. “He was happy you woke up. As we should all be.”

Adrien bristled at Luka’s tone. “Of course I’m happy she’s awake,” he said stiffly. “But princesses don’t marry kitchen boys.”

Luka froze beside her and the color drained from his face. He opened his mouth to retort, but Marinette laid a hand over his and he stilled. They shared a glance and he nodded, closing his mouth again. Marinette turned to face Prince Adrien.

“Princesses can do as they damn well please,” she said evenly. Luka beamed beside her. “Prince Adrien, due to the recent circumstances, please consider our betrothal nullified. I will marry Luka Couffaine according to my father’s decree as well as my own volition. I pray we can find another way to bring our kingdoms together.” She held out the hand that wasn’t encased in Luka’s and Adrien, after a moment of hesitation, strode forward to press it to his lips cordially.

“Of course, Milady, as you wish,” he said, although there was still an undercurrent of dissatisfaction laced through his tone. “I wish you great happiness in your forthcoming nuptials.”

With that, he straightened and, with a last pointed glance at Luka, walked out the door. Marinette didn’t breathe easy until she heard the heavy castle door swing shut with a resounding thud.

“‘Princesses can do as they damn well please,’ huh?” Luka repeated her words with his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

She shrugged. “I had some time off to think, apparently.”

“Me, too,” he murmured, smiling, but his smile slipped as he seemed to think of something. “He’s right, though. There will be talk.”

“You said it was my father’s decree, didn’t you?”

“That’s right. Not long after you went to sleep, your parents made the announcement. Anyone who woke you would have your hand in marriage. No one tried, based on your previous betrothal. They were terrified of King Gabriel and besides, they assumed Prince Adrien would be the one to…”

“But they were wrong,” she said firmly, squeezing his hand that was still holding hers as if he was afraid to let go.

“They were wrong,” he repeated, in a daze. “I still can’t believe…”

“Me, either,” she said, grinning. "I can't believe you didn't try sooner." She smirked at him and he laughed before he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Right, what was I thinking?" He shook his head as a bewildered smile stretched across his face.

"Well, that was your mistake right there." She threw the blanket off her legs and pulled them one by one to the side of the bed. They were still sluggish from sleep, but Luka steadied her, grabbing her other hand to help her.

"What was?" he asked, his eyes focused on their task. When she pushed up, his hands tightened around hers to support her effort. She fell back down once, but she set her jaw and tried again.

Her legs were all pins and needles and she held onto Luka's strong arms, gritting her teeth until it subsided. “Too much thinking,” she finally managed to answer him breathlessly. She lifted her eyes to his and grinned. “Not enough kissing.”

He laughed again and looped his arm around her waist as he reached up to cup her cheek. “I won’t make that mistake again,” he said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. A little thrill ran through her when his thumb stroked against her cheekbone softly. “Sorry for making you wait, love.”

Another thrill thrummed all the way down to her toes as the word slipped past his lips and nestled into her heart. She held her breath as he paused to look at her, then leaned down slowly, his eyes fluttering closed, angling his head gently, but he held back as his nose brushed against hers.

“Thinking,” she muttered, and with that he grinned and closed the distance, his lips soft and warm and all hers.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #jealous adrien agreste #fairy tale au #panda sprints

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newathens · 3 years

Text

in honor of everything that happened on aug 18th the good and the bad here is a scene from secrets that has been collecting dust for a year and may never get its moment but it is where luke castellan gets a chance to speak and it deserves to b seen at least once

LUKE:

Fresh donuts sat up on the counter, the sweet smell of frosting wafting through the space. The place was warm; their air conditioner busted. It was a random Wednesday at eleven in the morning so there weren’t many bystanders, though the few that were around kept stealing glances towards me. A mother lost in thought touched her cheek and when she caught me looking back, ducked her head. I kept tapping the tabletop with my knuckles, wondering how hard I’d have to whine to get the waitress to give me a chocolate glaze. She’d already passed by three times out of worry.

The shining, silver bell shook and rang as the diner door opened.

He stood in the entryway for a long moment, taking in the length of the diner. It took him two tries to notice me, but when he did, the neutral expression he’d worn shifted into a deep frown. He approached the booth slowly and held my gaze all the while.

“Not funny,” Hermes said. I smiled with all the gusto of a fourteen-year-old.

“Sorry,” I said, voice dropping several octaves as I aged ten years. “I couldn’t help myself. Too soon?” He took a seat without another word. Blonde hair, blue eyes—nothing much had changed; in fact, there wasn’t a trace of greying hair to be found. He seemed fit, youthful. “I thought we’d leave some mark on your complexions.” He gave a tight smile and said nothing, but in the silence I noticed it. An airy presence, circling around me much like the scent of the pastries. It wasn’t threatening, just curious, like a snake amongst the forest floor.

He was checking me.

I did the same to him and watched, rather gleefully, as his eyes widened in recognition. It felt strange, kind of annoying. Is this how gods’ felt? Striped raw, bodies vibrating like giant batteries next to one another?

His search turned up short, but mine didn’t.

“Jean pocket, out with it.”

He sighed and placed a gold iPhone in the middle of the table. The caduceus shimmered on its back.

Oh, look who it is! Martha said.

“Nice to see you,” I said.

I didn’t say this was nice!

“And you too, George.”

Hey, Luke, he said, if you take over his position, will you get to keep us?

“I’d hope so, you two are a riot.”

“Comical,” Hermes said. “Both of you keep quiet.” We looked at each other again, ready to speak but unsure how to start. The waitress beat us to it.

“How can I—oh!” She nearly snapped her pencil in half. Her eyes were wide on me, then on the next booth over, then to the other side of the diner. “Wasn’t there, I mean, there was a child—”

“Can I have three of those delicious looking donuts, miss?” I asked. The waitress bit her lip absentmindedly.

“Sure thing,” she said, “And you?”

“Nothing,” Hermes said, then his eyes glowed. “Thank you, and apologies.” The waitress stared blankly, then walked off without another word. The donuts from the counter disappeared and reappeared at our table.

“Thanks,” I said.

He let out a tired breath, “Lukas—”

“Yes, father?”

His expression soured, wind rattled the windows, but then it softened, his eyes shut. I stared at the caduceus, quiet now. He sat back in his seat, placed a steady hand on the wood, and stared out towards the street. Towards the shops and sidewalks familiar to us both.

“We’re here to talk, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain.”

Hermes had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, eyes closed. As the silence stretched on, the conversation played over in my head. Again and again and again. The whole time he barely said a word, not unlike him. . .but not all that comforting. The diner was empty now, though I hadn’t realized when it happened. No weapons, those were the terms, but it would be a lie to say that my palm wasn’t itching to call Backbiter to it. Martha and George slithered around the staff mimicking some sort of animated phone case.

I should run.

He stood without warning. I followed.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he turned and left. Again, I followed.

Late summer heat wrapped around us like a blanket as we exited into midday. The area was lively, busy shoppers and cyclists, joggers and freshly-washed cars. Sun shone down heavy on their exteriors and I squinted against the glint. It was way too bright—

“There’s no one here,” he said. I turned. He was waiting on the sidewalk, body facing north, towards the path that would take you further inland. Away from the main strip, closer to the suburbs. “Just you and me.”

“Right,” I said and shoved both hands deep into their pockets. I knew where we were going.

Higher up the heat wasn’t as oppressive. Hot winds blew now and then, rustling dry leaves and pushing the scent of saltwater up from the bay. I breathed deeply out of reflex. We walked in silence. I kept our strides in rhythm. That was until I saw it.

The beat-up white house with green hinges that had fallen into disrepair from neglect and misfortune was almost unrecognizable. A new coat of paint covered the siding, the chipping front door had been replaced, and curtains blew out of wide open windows. A lush, green lawn surrounded the property, split in half by a clean walkway bracketed with a rainbow of flowers. There wasn’t a single discolored, mildewed, decaying stuffed monster to be found. I jogged forward in spite of myself.

“What did you. . .” I turned back. Hermes had slowed, taking in the scene much the same as I. He looked at me. “What did you do?”

“Luke, this isn’t,” he stared at the house and his face twisted, “I haven’t done anything.”

I swallowed a dry mouth and ran up the walkway, all caution lost to the innate yet unearned fear for a loved one. The door rattled under my fist as I knocked repeatedly, frantically. Hermes took his place on the tiny porch beside me.

“Hello,” I shouted. “Hello, is anyone home? Hello!”

“Coming! Just a moment,” a gentle voice rose from the depths of the house and a few moments later, a woman opened the door. Blonde hair, not frizzed, interrupted by streaks of gray. Green eyes; forest green, not neon. Healthy skin, not sickly. A warm smile that only grew wider as she took us in.

“Mom.”

“Luke,” she said and pulled me in to press a kiss to my forehead. I went as rigid as ice; she didn’t notice. “And look at you,” she said to Hermes, who hid his shock well. He had a smile on, pressed a kiss to her cheek, but I could tell somehow, that he was as clueless as I.

The spell.

“Come on you two,” she ushered inside. “I’m baking.”

“Cookies?” I guessed. It was the wrong thing to say. She stopped midstep, hand on the doorknob, and stared at me. Both eyes open, mouth in a frown. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she blinked and shook her head, as if pushing away a stupor.

“No, pie. Do you like cookies?” She led us into the house. It was quiet, a television played low in the front room. Varied, jewel hues covered the walls, hiding the dirty eggshell they used to be. Tarps covered some furniture, though they were clearly being used. The wood floors shined from a polishing. The entire space smelled of pastry. Hermes followed faster than I. “Luke,” she called. She was leaning out the kitchen archway. “Lemonade?”

“Sure,” I said but couldn’t move. Then Hermes called my name and I scoffed.

The kitchen was different too. All the grime had disappeared. All the appliances updated. The old, retro table had been replaced with a long wooden piece, and on top of it, were strawberries. Buckets and buckets of strawberries, contained in plastic, straw, wicker; anything that would hold them. The sweet scent was nearly overpowering here. My mom held out a full glass and brought my hand to it to make sure it didn’t drop.

“Strawberries?” I asked.

She looked at the table, “Oh! Yes, I’ve grown quite an affinity for them,” she shrugged. “Not sure why but. . . they’re pretty aren’t they?” A beep sounded.

“May,” Hermes said as she pulled a tray from the oven. She looked over her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“May, are you alright?”

My mother smiled—with a gorgeous set of pearly whites. Not possible, her teeth had yellowed and rotted years ago. “Of course, I am. It’s a beautiful day and I have two of my favorite people right in front of me.”

“May,” Hermes said a third time, this one pained. I realized where I felt confusion, he felt hurt. My mother noticed. Her smile dropped and her eyes along with it. “May, the last time I saw you. . .it didn’t look like this.”

She placed the tray on the stove and took a heavy seat at the table. The towering strawberries seemed to suffocate her figure. “I was very different, wasn’t I? But I don’t like to think about it. Why not have some pie and then you can go? I don’t expect you to stay very long.” She looked at both of us. “You never can.”

Hermes huffed in misery. He came to sit by her side. I felt like I was watching a television show. This couldn’t be mine, this couldn’t be my parents.

He took her hand, “I don’t mean to put you through pain but I’m a little shocked. Your condition. . . wasn’t exactly fixable. I’d like to know what happened.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “About a year ago, I woke up. . .at least it felt like that. The presence of that thing disappeared, mostly. I could think straight again. I started cleaning up, there wasn’t anything else to do. The calendar on the wall was from the nineties. Found out someone had been paying the bills all this time,” she touched Hermes cheek and he smiled. “One morning I started working on the lawn. . .” she gave a sad, little laugh. “Apparently, I’d gained a reputation. The neighbors were so worried they tried to take the shears out of my hands, but once they realized. . .they helped me. People helped me fix up the house, gave me food, took me to the dentist, taught me how to use these new phones. They were so kind,” she sniffled. “I really didn’t deserve that much kindness.”

“Of course you do,” Hermes said but she lifted her head towards me.

“I don’t remember much. I get glimpses, pains even. But what I can recall, none of it is good. The memories. . .and the visions. Luke, honey, I’m so sorry.” The air was so thick I could’ve cut through it with Backbiter. I scuffed my boot against the linoleum. Silence snaked its way through the kitchen, like Martha and Geroge slithered on that phone.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Mom,” I said finally.

“But there is,” she tried. “All that happened, the things I did, and then I just let you—”

“There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” I said and the air shifted from thick to frigid. Hermes’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his gaze from my mother. Whatever. “So did you chuck all my old stuff? Not that it matters, I’m a little too old for Power Ranger pajamas.”

My mother wiped at her eyes, “Oh no, I haven’t touched your room. Go take a look, it’s all there.”

The tiny, off-white carpeted room with one square window was exactly how I’d left it a long, long time ago. The bureau had one drawer open. Angry crayon marks covered a low corner of the wall. The small, twin bed was made, but wrinkled. I walked up to it and ran a hand across the blanket.

I had the sudden urge to stay.

It hit me like a brick to the solar plexus, knocking the wind from my lungs. Anger followed soon after. What are you thinking? I thought to myself.

You could go to college.

You lost your right to a future.

You don’t get to leave, Annabeth’s voice echoed.

Through the window I could see the road; children playing across the street; a man starting up a lawn mower. It felt surreal, freakishly abnormal.

Maybe this was a type of punishment.

“What are you thinking?” Hermes asked. I hadn’t heard him enter.

“I’m thinking I’m too big for this bed,” I said and turned towards him, hands in pockets. His cadecaus was out now. The snakes slithered the length of it, restless. “Not that it matters.”

#metaphorically speak in a sense i guess. to the audience #no i do not expect anyone 2 read it but if u like luke at all. i think u might feel warm and fuzzy and heartbroken at the same time <3

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mc-lukanette · 4 years

Text

Marinette was so incredibly sick of working with Gabriel. The man was emotionally dead inside, and that day specifically had made her dead tired. She was honestly glad she didn't have a car, as there would've been no way she could've driven it all the way home without falling asleep at the steering wheel.

Stumbling her way onto the bus, her vision blurred as she forced herself to walk to the back, given that the rest of the seats were already taken by at least one other person. The back seat held one person as well, but the seat was at least long and there was less risk of her accidentally falling on them if she passed out.

She plopped down onto the seat, letting out a sigh of relief that she was finally about to relax to some degree. Glancing thoughtfully at the empty space next to her, she removed her jacket, not caring how subtle she wasn't as she laid it down onto the space, just in case she did indeed fall asleep.

An insurance policy, she figured, so she could pass out on it. She was fully aware that having a "plan" for such things so quickly said something about both her and her tendency for exhaustion, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She vaguely heard the doors to the bus close, then felt the steady rhythm of it moving along. She regretted the latter immediately, knowing she must've been tired if the steady motions of a bus were soothing her to sleep.

It didn't take even a minute before she felt her eyes start to flutter shut. She barely managed to catch herself when she started to fall to the left - towards the person next to her - and her eyes shot open on alert.

Er—wait, was that left? Or had it been right? She was sitting straight again at least, but was she not as straight as she thought?

Had it always been so dark?

—————

The next thing Marinette knew, she was being gently shaken by something. She whined, burying her face into her pillow and clutching it tighter, almost in protest.

If that shaking was an earthquake, she was going to sleep through it as if her life depended on it.

She was shaken again, this time more strongly. Groaning, she finally peeked upwards, seeing a man with black hair and blue highlights smiling sympathetically at her.

While she was wondering how such a handsome man managed to sneak into her bed, he explained, "Sorry. I wanted to let you sleep, but... I didn't know where you got off, and this is the last stop on the bus."

She blinked, confused, until the word bus registered with her and she realized that she couldn't remember having gotten home. She jerked up, looking around in a panic and confirming that she was indeed still on the bus and had fallen asleep on a stranger, despite having taken precautions so she wouldn't.

Her so-called "pillow" had been his arm, and she'd been gripping the sleeve of his jacket.

Blushing red, she stood, flailing her arms frantically at him. "I am SO sorry! I swear I didn't mean to! I feel awful—I mean, not physically because you were actually really warm and nice, but emotionally because I just—" She practically slapped her own face with her hands, muffling a scream into her palms.

"I didn't mind," the man assured, standing up as well and placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm Luka, by the way, and I know you got a little sleep on the way here—"

She groaned at the reminder.

"—but do you mind if I walk you home?" he asked. "I want to make sure you make it there alright."

She peeked out at him through her fingers, then lowered her hands. "H-huh? You don't have to do that."

"I know, but you've had a rough day," he observed, despite her having not told him. "I'm guessing this isn't your stop either."

She slumped. "No, it isn't." Not wanting to dismiss his kindness though, she gave him a reassuringly look. "But you were letting me sleep and it was probably for the best. If it's really okay, I... yes, you can take me home."

He smiled, satisfied with that, then began walking off the bus. She followed after him, though was confused at why he seemed happy to take her after she'd slept on him. Did good people really still exist in the world? She was just so used to Gabriel.

They were already off the bus when she noticed that she hadn't introduced herself in return. "Oh! Uh, I'm Marinette." She leaned forward so he could see her even as they walked side-by-side. "You're sure you don't have anything important to do?"

"Not really," he replied. "I had a pretty relaxed day."

"Lucky." Marinette pouted. "I wish my day had been like that. I wasn't even supposed to go into work today, but Gabriel needed me."

"Gabriel Agreste?"

"Yeah."

He grinned, still sympathetic but with a little playfulness now. "That explains why you were tired."

She snorted. "Yeah." She paused, then blushed in embarrassment and covered her mouth. "Well, mostly."

He didn't prod, but she could sense that the offer to be listened to was there.

Rubbing the back of her head, she continued sheepishly, "It was a late night for me yesterday. I really was going to head straight to bed, but then I went to lay down and, of course—"

"Inspiration hit," Luka chimed in.

Her jaw went slack, brows raised in surprise at him. "How'd you know?"

"I'm a musician," he replied, "so I know what it's like when creativity wants to play its song."

Marinette gasped. "Oh my gosh, you understand me."

They shared a laugh, and the conversation naturally transitioned from there into talks about their jobs, as Marinette was already wondering what instrument he played. She learned that he mainly played the guitar, among multiple other instruments, and his last name was Couffaine. He was the leader of a band called Kitty Section, which Marinette felt bad for having never heard about. He assured her it was fine, and that they didn't do anything big anyway; it was usually small venues or whoever would welcome them. He offered her one of their CDs as a sample and she promised to listen to later, though Luka was already uninterested in talking further about it at that point, wanting to hear about her instead.

She started out vague, not finding herself all that interesting. She was a fashion designer working under Gabriel Agreste, a job that paid well but was stressful when Gabriel himself could make changes and fire people at the drop of a hat. She adored fashion, of course, but everything that came with that was a bit of a downer. When she wasn't fretting over seams and fabrics, she preferred gaming, or tending to her plants.

Luka admitted to having barely touched games in his life, but Marinette was pleasantly surprised to hear that he had his own plants he liked tending to; apparently, his mother's houseboat was full of them, both when he was growing up and after.

Marinette realized partway through their conversation that she hadn't gotten out much due to the stress of her job, which she figured factored into her having not heard of Luka's band, however much of a pity it was. Though she didn't say it out loud, she silently considered hopping around places they might be when she was free, hoping to catch them playing one day and surprise Luka with it.

They were still deep into their conversation when Marinette noticed that they'd reached her house. At first, she thought it was strange that they'd arrived so quickly, but looking at her phone made it clear that they'd been talking for at least thirty minutes. She hadn't gotten so absorbed in talking to someone in... well, a long time. How'd she even manage to walk that long without collapsing on the street?

Despite the fact that she felt terrible about causing him trouble by falling asleep on him and letting him walk her home, she couldn't help feeling disappointed that their time together was about to end. Luka seemed equally reluctant somehow, staring at the door she stood in front of but not immediately saying anything, though Marinette imagined that she might've been projecting what she wanted onto him.

"Um, thanks for walking me home," she told him, hands clasped together at her waist.

"You're welcome." He gave her a smile. "I'm just glad you're okay."

She nodded, hesitating for a long moment before turning to the door. She grabbed the doorknob, but didn't open it, her fingers only twisting the knob back and forth with no end goal. She bit her bottom lip, debating with herself over what she should do.

The terrible feeling increased. He was her bed and companion for the night and he was about to walk all the way back to his house with her having done nothing about it.

She had to do something for him.

Eventually, she turned to him, hoping she didn't sound too desperate as she called out, "Luka."

He seemed briefly caught off-guard, but not weirded out, which she took as a good sign. "Yes?"

"Um..." She sighed. "Would you—come inside for a bit? Maybe stay the night?"

He gaped. "Ah—"

"I mean—!" She stiffened, but didn't take it back. "At least let me thank you with dessert, you know? And it's just—you would've already been home by now and obviously I don't know if you planned on going to bed right when you got there, but I figured you could sleep over so you can still get as many hours as you can?"

He blinked at her for a few seconds, then stifled a chuckle, directing his gaze to the ground. He closed his eyes, seeming to genuinely contemplate the offer, then looked back at her with a smile. "That makes it sound like I'm the one troubling you now."

"You aren't!" she insisted, almost—no, actually offended. "And if you think so, then fine, trouble me! I want to be troubled!" She opened the door with a huff, gesturing inside with both hands. "See? Trouble is welcome here, that's what the mat is for!"

He didn't bother stifling anything this time, letting out a warm laugh that made her heart do a flip. Was he honestly charmed by her lame outbursts?

"Alright," he said once he'd calmed down, straightening and taking the steps necessary to stand next to her. "I'd be happy to, Marinette."

She beamed at him, not understanding why he'd accepted but not complaining either. Rushing inside, she held onto the door and waited for Luka to enter before shutting it behind them.

Their conversation continued right where it left off, delving into their favorite sweets as Marinette showed him around the kitchen.

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

188 notes · View notes

verfound · 3 years

Note

Coyling.... (nagas 👀👀👀?)

...I'm actually kinda surprised Quick didn't ask about this one 😂 buuut I'm also pretty sure Quick knows it's still just Festering...

Sorry, Bloods, but this one has nothing to do with nagas. "Coyling" is the 5x Fic where Luka is being "coy" and "coiling" around Marinette with the knowledge that he knows she's Ladybug. But I got Stupid with it and started making it crazy complicated, because I was trying to do each scene from both POVs, and it wasn't really working? I wanted to finish this up for Quick's birthday, but that hasn't happened yet. This one is higher on the list, though, bc Quick's been super patient & waiting for it forever. 😂

Apart from notes/chicken scratch, all I really have for it is the Lucky Charm/Motorcycle bit I've shared before...

Ladybug stared at her Lucky Charm, dumbfounded. A motorcycle helmet? What the heck was she supposed to do with…? She paused as her frantic eyes landed on a nearby civilian – specifically: Luka Couffaine. He was in the process of putting on his own helmet, his mother’s bike already idling beneath him, and he was lit up in her Ladybug Vision with red and black spots.

“Luka!” she called, tucking the spotted helmet under her arm and racing over to him. His head raised, turning about to search for the shout.

“Marinette?” he called, lifting the helmet from his head, and she skidded to a jerky stop inches from crashing into him and Anarka’s bike. Once the helmet was removed, he blinked slowly at her before a smile curled his lips. “Oh, Ladybug. Sorry. What can I do for you?”

But she was frozen, her jaw slack and eyes wide and terrified. The spotted helmet remained useless against her side. In the distance, the akuma continued to attack the city. She could still hear Chat’s taunts ringing above the rooftops. Before her, Luka sat and waited, an easygoing smile – a knowingsmile – on his face. The longer she stood there gawking at him, though, the more it slipped into concern.

He had called her Marinette.

“Ladybug?” he asked, and she forced herself to swallow. It was an honest mistake. It had to be. Luka knew her voice, and he’d had his helmet on – of course he hadn’t actually seen her. But he’d heard her voice, and he’d just assumed…

That glint was back in his eye. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his helmet. He dipped his head at her, silently encouraging a response, and she swallowed again. It was impossible. There was no way Luka knew…

“Bike!” she shouted as an explosion sounded behind her. She held up the Lucky Charm, and his eyebrows soared. “Can I borrow?”

“…my bike?” he asked, surprised, and she nodded. He frowned as he looked her over, and she tensed under his stare. She thought maybe she should be more uncomfortable with how he was looking at her, especially when that slow, lazy smile curled his lips. He raised an eyebrow and leaned closer, their noses practically touching. “Ladybug, are you even old enough to drive?”

Her jaw dropped as an indignant squeak escaped her. Well, technically, no, not as much – but she knew how! She’d been on her grandmother’s bike tons of times, and Luka himself had given her a few lessons when she’d expressed an interest in getting a license on her next birthday – which was only a few months away! And besides, wasn’t it his civic duty – his superhero responsibility, as a teammate! – to help her out? The Lucky Charm had led her to him and his bike, and when she asked for…

Her internal rant cut to a screeching halt as she saw the humor dancing in his eyes. The smile still stretching his lips. He was teasing her.

“I know how, which is the important part!” she huffed. She held the helmet up as another explosion sounded behind them. “Now please! We’ve wasted enough time!”

“Right,” he said, climbing off the bike. He helped her on, and she tensed again when his hand lingered on her hip. “Just…be careful with it? It’s my ma’s, and the last time you borrowed something from me it came back covered with bread crumbs and scratched paint.”

“…it did not! The Miraculous Cure fixed it, and you know it!” she squawked, turning to glare at him, but she could see that glint she was becoming increasingly familiar with in his eyes again. She wondered if he had always been this sassy or if it was just his kwami’s influence. (…she was learning he’d always been a bit of a dork, and he’d loved teasing her from the beginning, so it was probably just him.) She sighed and kicked the engine back to life. “Thank you, Luka. I’ll bring it back safe.”

“Bring yourself back safe, too,” he said. Her heart twisted at the look he was giving her, but she smiled (not that he could see, with the helmet) and nodded.

“I can do that,” she said, and the next moment she was gone. “Bug out!”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #luka couffaine #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #wip wednesday #wip wednesday: festering folder edition #coyling #bloody-no-kissu #dammit I need to finish this one #I still love this idea #but I was making it too complicated #just write the damn fic ver

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

The Truth Hurts

(I’m sorry I know that title is super unoriginal but it fits so well)

Spoilers for S4E1 Truth

Also not especially a fix it fic, more of an aftermath fic, so prepare for pain.

I’m late but this is for the LBSC Sprint Challenge prompt 2. “So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.” I actually only spent two sprints on this and then I thought I was done enough, but I did add quite a bit more trying to bring it to a satisfactory close. I think I still fit pretty closely to the time restraints plus editing though. Except I’m already a day late so the editing was not very heavy on this one. Hopefully I didn’t miss too many errors or word repetitions.

Luka pain (sorry) and Couffaine sibling solidarity. Special apologies to @airi-p4 because I didn’t fix anything, I just made it worse. 😅

Warnings for Dad Pain and abandonment issues.

He woke up numb. Which wasn’t a bad option, all things considered.

Then he rolled over. And there was the face. Staring from his wall, like it had been for, what...seven years?

The face of his father.

He wasn’t so numb anymore. Luka shoved the covers off of himself and sat up, staring at that face.

For a few minutes last night, heartbroken and sick at everything that had happened, Luka had known what it was like to have a father. One who cared. Jagged had hugged him. Ankara’s hugs were tight and hard, but she still had a woman’s body, soft and curved, a little plump with age and childbearing. All Luka could think of as his father embraced him was how bony he was. The metal clink of Jagged’s jewelry was nothing like the quiet click of Anarka’s beaded bracelets, and his arms were thin, his body broad-shouldered but thin, without any of Anarka’s cushioning. Luka had never really spent time imagining what a father’s hug felt like, but it was different from a mother’s, and that was good enough for him at the moment.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t needed a hug just then. Badly, in fact.

It all felt like such a dream; something from a movie plot. His father, his idol, suddenly one person, and promising to write a song with Luka, it...it was overwhelming. It was like every little-boy daydream come true.

But it wasn’t a dream, and Luka wasn’t a little boy anymore. So he wasn’t al that surprised when Jagged left.

Because he had a party to go to.

Because he’d left his family long ago for a rich and famous rock star life, and he had never once looked back.

I know how to turn feelings into an awesome song .

Luka lunged up out of bed, turning over the pile of stuff at the end of his bed until he found his laptop. With it in hand, he turned and reached to snatch the earbuds off his nightstand amp, and then paused with them tangled in his fist, thinking.

“Luka?” Juleka mumbled, sitting up in her bed.

Luka ignored her. As much as he loved her, he couldn’t take care of her right now. He couldn’t. He threw his earbuds down on his bed and went upstairs instead, jaw set, shoving crap out of his way carelessly until he unearthed the wiring for the sound system.

He hooked up his laptop with shaking hands and blurring vision. He could barely breathe as he queued up his entire Jagged Stone collection, chronologically, from memory, because he was officially Jagged Stone’s number one fan and it wasn’t even hard.

Luka cranked up the sound system, and pressed play. Jagged Stone’s very first album blared from the speakers above him. Luka skipped the first song hurriedly. He wasn’t ready to face that memory just yet.

“What in the seven seas—” he heard behind him, and he turned, fixing his eyes on his mother. He wasn’t even sure what kind of face he was making, but she stopped in her tracks.

She knew, all this time . She knew that these songs were about her, were about them .

You are the donut of my life, Jagged’s voice howled from the speakers. The donut. Sweet, but heavy. Bad for you. Not something you ate every day. Not something that nourished you or made you better.

God, how it must have hurt Anarka all these years, hearing those songs over and over and knowing.

It was hurting her now, he could see.

Luka could have stayed below. He could have used the earbuds. He could have spared her. He could have suffered privately.

He wasn’t sorry he hadn’t. Not this time.

Anarka sighed through her nose, and then turned and walked away, fists clenched.

He’d feel bad about it later. It wasn’t like he didn’t have enough to be sorry for after yesterday. Might as well lump it all in together. Luka turned back to his computer, and pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around them and setting his chin on his knees as he closed his eyes to listen to the blaring music. To the truth .

Even thinking the word twisted his stomach and made him feel sick. But that’s what this was, wasn’t it. The truth about his father’s feelings. Luka almost wanted to laugh. It explained so much, now. The sentimentality of Jagged’s early work. And here, around his third album, here was where he moved on . Where he got over them.

I abandoned everything, but not my dreams .

Here was where he began to take on the persona of the true rock ‘n roll artist. Where he convinced himself it was all for the best because now he could make pure art, now that no one—now that Anarka and Luka nad Juleka weren’t holding him back .

My guitar is my only family.

Goddamnit, Luka loved that song. He buried his face in his knees and gripped his hair with both fists.

He felt hands on his back. Two hands, flat against him, rubbing slightly. Soothing. His mind flew, irrationally, to Marinette, but when he raised his face enough to look over his shoulder, it was Juleka sitting there behind him, her hands resting on his back, her shoulders curled inward as she peered at him through her hair. Of course. Because Marinette had no reason to be here anymore, and he’d chased his mother out. Of course it was Juleka, who had never wanted to know the truth, who had preferred not knowing to being disappointed.

Luka was starting to see her point.

And now he had forced this, all this on her. The truth she had never wanted to hear screaming out in stereo sound.

God, he was such an ass. He might be angry at his mother but none of this was Jules’ fault.

Juleka moved her hands hesitantly to his shoulders, and leaned against his back, resting her cheek against him. Luka lifted one hand to cover hers, and put his head down on his knees again, pulled a little bit out of his own selfish pain by her presence. He appreciated her silent forgiveness.

Soon he would have to get up. The world wasn’t going to stop for his shattered heart, and Luka would have to get up, and put on his brave face, and deal with things like Luka Couffaine did. Honestly, head on, by telling the truth as he saw it. He owed it to Juleka to help her work through it too, since he was the one that forced the knowledge on her. Silently he vowed not to let her be overlooked. Jagged owed it to her to at least look at her and acknowledge her. If she didn’t want anything to do with him after that, then that was her choice.

Juleka’s head nudged his back, and he sighed. She moved her hands again, this time putting her thin arms around him and hugging him tight. Luka took another long breath, and leaned back into her a bit, as Jagged’s Most Rockin’ Hits Vol 1 began to play.

Under the moon, deep within the woods...

Luka closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I broke up with Marinette,” he said quietly. “Or maybe...we broke up with each other. I don’t know.” He sighed shakily. “I guess we just...weren’t meant to be. Right now.” He swallowed again against the lump in his throat. “It’s probably for the best. I’ve...got a lot to deal with right now anyway.”

Juleka had tensed when he said it, with surprise, he thought. But she listened, and hummed a wordless acknowledgement, and hugged him tighter.

If his tears dripped on her arms, she didn’t complain. The back of his shirt was feeling a bit damp, anyway.

The truth hurt. He’d always known that, but he also believed in the healing it brought. Better to face the pain head on, where you know it’s coming, than let it fester and burst on you when you weren’t prepared for it. Luka had enough experience with denial to know that running away only left your back bared to the knife.

Juleka’s face pressed a little harder between his shoulder blades.

Luka sighed, and reached out to turn the music off. He turned towards Juleka so that she leaned against his side, and he put his arm around her, and they leaned on each other in the suddenly deafening silence.

#quickspins #lbsc sprint challenge #lbsc sprint fic #lukanette #couffaine siblings #luka couffaine #juleka couffaine #daddy issues #abandonment #angst #hurt/comfort

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lala-ladybug · 3 years

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter 8

You brush your teeth. now BOOM orange juice. That’s life.

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Chapter 8: Adrien Elizabeth Agreste, we do not have "plenty of time"

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje First | Previous | Next

Marinette was tired. Sure, she didn’t have to be class president, worry about akumas, or study for the baccalauréat, but she was more tired than she’d ever been in Paris. She’d been running herself ragged with training day after day for weeks, waking up earlier and going to bed later than everyone else.

Even her Order was starting to worry about her.

“Hey Mari, let’s go shopping! I’ve heard there’s a really posh fabric district on level 8.” Chloe wheedled as Kagami poured them both a cup of morning tea. The blonde had a sharp look in her eye that meant it was more serious than just a shopping trip, but Marinette wouldn’t budge.

“Sorry Chlo, I want to level-grind so I can prep for tomorrow,” Marinette shrugged and grimaced at her friend. She hadn’t picked up a needle in months, chances were slim to none that she’d start now. And tomorrow was too important to skip training.

Adrien came in from the garden and traded glances with Chloe. He sat down next to Marinette and said softly, “You really don’t have to overwork yourself this much, you know.” He gestured to the four of them and Luka, who sat plucking at his lute. “We’re all here right alongside you, and we always will be.”

Marinette forced a smile. “I know,” she replied. And she did, really. But it was still so hard to let herself relax, even for a moment. She felt more burdened here than as Ladybug. At least back home all they had to do was wait for the next akuma attack. In here, every second not actively spent fighting in the dungeons or leveling up was another second lost in the real world. Another life lost, too.

The newspaper had daily progress updates and blurbs about quests, but every month it also put out a death toll. There were so many names. A good month only had a few dozen. Marinette always read them all, whispered their names to herself as a reminder to keep fighting.

“I should be heading out,” she gulped down her tea and rose from the table. Ignoring the worried faces of her friends, she packed a bag and shouldered a full quiver of arrows. She waved without turning to look behind her and left through the door to the stables.

The roan stallion, playfully named “Rouge” by Nino, had taken a liking to her, so that was the one she saddled up and mounted. They rode into town, where Marinette touched the teleportation obelisk and directed their destination to the thirteenth floor.

She shielded her eyes against the bright sun. The heat rolled off the clay buildings in shimmering waves, carrying with it the scent of spices from a nearby market. In the distance, she could see rolling hills of sand stretching on for miles. This floor was the highest that was open, but the dungeon wasn’t scheduled to be beaten until the next day.

Despite their best efforts to defeat each level by themselves, the Order quickly found that other guilds fought right alongside them. They were much more competent than the Parisians had given them credit for, for various reasons. The game cultivated a cutthroat culture where limited resources served as selfish motivations for players to do as they pleased. Some groups wanted to help, just like them. Others wouldn’t think twice about abandoning allies to save their own skins. Above all, no one wanted to be left behind, not after the fiasco of the first level. And of course, everyone wanted to go home.

When she wasn’t talking strategy with the other guilds, Marinette trained hard to increase her level. She was nearly at level 20, and wanted to be at her absolute best for the dungeon battle. She’d read in the paper that morning that there were scorpion monsters lurking out beyond the limits of the villages. They would be perfect practice.

She spurred Rouge onward down the stone road that wound through the dunes. They’d barely made it out of sight of the village before, sure enough, waist-high black scorpions started tailing them. Rouge tossed his head as he trotted along, sensing something was amiss.

Marinette nudged him into a gallop, which he gladly obliged to get as far away from the threat as possible. But a glance over her shoulder revealed that the monsters were doggedly following. Their pace sped up enough that she could hear the clacking from their many legs scraping over the stones of the road.

Twisting in the saddle, Marinette fired at their pursuers. Her archery skills were her favorite thing to practice. The ranged attacks and versatility were similar to her yo-yo, and moving targets only made it that much more of a challenge.

Her arrows hit their marks, and she didn’t have to turn her head to see the congratulatory loot windows popping up in front of her to confirm it.

More scorpions approached from the sides, which made it even easier to pick them off. Rouge seemed to be enjoying the exercise, never flagging as they bolted across the level. Fending off enemies left and right, dodging fast-paced obstacles, feeling the wind rushing in her hair....

It was the closest she had come to feeling like Ladybug since the game began.

She fell into a rhythm that allowed her mind to wander to Tikki. How was she holding up? Had she found another holder? She would probably need one.... The Order hadn’t talked about it, but they all knew that Hawkmoth likely wasn’t taking it easy on a city devastated by so many deaths and disappearances.

Marinette frowned and swallowed against the lump in her throat. All of the Miraculous holders were here and there was no one left to distribute new ones. She felt so stupidly careless to have left Paris completely undefended.

The next arrow that found its mark sank deeply enough to reward her with a level-up.

Eventually, they reached another village. They stopped for water and some lunch, then kept going onward. By the time the sun was setting, Marinette had reached level 20 and was well on her way to achieving level 21. She felt more ready now, the physical activity having calmed her nerves somewhat.

She and Rouge teleported back to the house just in time for Alix, Kim, and Max to serve dinner. Marinette raised a questioning eyebrow at Luka. She could’ve sworn they’d taken their turn to cook dinner just a few nights ago. Her friend just sighed and mouthed, “Lila.”

Ah, of course.

Lila did deign to come downstairs, allegedly from the girls’ bedroom where she had to take a nap because her vertigo was acting up. Which it only did when there was something she didn’t want to do.

Marinette was the first to serve herself. She piled some of the food from the kitchen onto her plate and took a seat next to Alya. Her best friend was chatting with Adrien and Max about the game plan for the boss fight tomorrow. Listening in to get the context for the conversation, Marinette took a bite of the potatoes.

It was bland.

Terribly, awfully bland.

She hid her face as politely as she could, then stood to retrieve spices from the cupboards in the kitchen. She applied them liberally to her own plate and then to the rest of the serving platters before anyone else could try them.

Upon rejoining her friends at the table, she heard Adrien and Kagami once again shut down Alya’s pleading to join them in the fight. Of their guild of classmates and friends, the Order comprised the only members they’d allowed to fight in the dungeons. Marinette knew her civilian friends were more than capable, hell she’d trusted many of them with a Miraculous at some point or another, but the chance of them getting hurt and dying in the game was too great to take risks.

“What if we just stayed with the support teams? I don’t want to get in anyone’s way, but if there’s something I can do to help I want to do it!” Alya protested.

Kagami shook her head sharply. “Absolutely not. Even the support teams have sustained damage in prior fights. You should leave it to us.”

Lila sat down smoothly on Alya’s other side. “What makes you five so much more competent? Everyone knows how clumsy Marinette is.” She waved a casual hand.

“Well, Kagami and I fence together, and....” Adrien started explaining but trailed off.

“Chloe has been bringing me and Luka to her self-defense classes back home,” Marinette blurted out. She internally cringed at the questioning looks Chloe and Luka gave her. “There’s so many akumas near us at home, we thought it might be a good idea.”

Oh Kwami, she hated lying to her friends. But she couldn’t put them in the line of fire. If something happened to one of them, she’d never be able to forgive herself.

Luckily, it seemed like they’d bought her half-truth.

“Really?” Lila raised her eyebrows.

Well, most of them had.

“I hope that’s really the reason and it’s not just because you guys are hoarding all the loot you get from beating the dungeons,” she sniffed, leaning forward slightly to look directly at Marinette.

Marinette’s stomach dropped. To even think that they could be so greedy and manipulative....

“Oh come on, there’s no way our friends would ever do something like that.” Alya gently put her arm around Marinette. “My bestie is our Everyday Ladybug, and I’m sure she’s going to do her best to help get us out of here.”

Nino and the others spoke up about their support for Marinette and her Order, but she tuned them out. As grateful as she was for her friend’s support, Marinette couldn’t help but feel even more overwhelmed. Being called their “Everyday Ladybug” only served as a reminder of how much they all depended on her.

She finished her meal and quietly thanked Alix and Max (Kim was busy arm-wrestling Adrien). While washing her dishes, she felt herself nodding off. Rouge still needed to be brushed after their long ride, so she shook herself awake and trudged to the stables to do that.

Luka and Chloe were waiting there for her, to her surprise. Luka was already working to brush Rouge’s coat, and Chloe wordlessly took Marinette by the shoulders and firmly guided her upstairs to their room.

“Hey, wh--” Marinette tried to ask before Chloe shooed her up to their loft beds.

Chloe followed her up and said, “You need to rest,” then began tucking her friend in.

Marinette made an effort to protest, but the quilted covers invited her to give in to her heavy eyelids. So she let her friend fuss over the sheets and straighten the duvet.

She hardly remembered whispering her thanks before falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Marinette woke from a dreamless sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so long, or so well. She yawned and stretched with a groan, blinking blearily at the large circular window in front of her.

The window spanned nearly the height of the two stories in the girls’ room. It cast shafts of swirling dust, gilded in the morning sun, across the beds on the floor below. She and Chloe had thought at first that they’d drawn the short end of the stick when Lila had insisted they be the ones to take the loft (the extra climbing would be awful on her knees, you know how it is), but in her grogginess Marinette took a moment to appreciate it.

From her vantage point, she could see clearly out into the front of their yard. The hills of their spread-out neighborhood sloped downward to reveal the mountains in the distance beyond the limits of the main town.

As she watched, small songbirds flitted between the apple trees lining the path. She could hear their soft chirping in the distance, as well at the hum of the beehive that had been growing in their eaves.

Today was an important day, she knew that much, but why...?

Oh no.

A glance at the clock embedded in her player menu revealed that she’d overslept. She was late.

She threw the blankets off and quickly dressed, hopping in place to tug on her boots. She slid down the ladder and rounded the corner of the landing on the stairs, terrified she’d missed her team leaving to fight the boss.

Adrien’s bubbling laughter followed by Luka’s soft chuckle told her otherwise. She breathed a sigh of relief and slowed her pace down the rest of the stairs. Thank Kwami.

In the kitchen, Adrien was holding a yellow hairbrush high above Chloe’s reach while she pouted and jumped to try to grab it. Kagami shook her head while Luka snuck up behind them and plucked the brush out of Adrien’s hand.

Chloe huffed at Adrien when Luka handed it back to her. She began brushing out her already-perfect hair, chastising him. “You know this is my travel brush. I’ll need it for after the boss fight! Kwami knows how utterly ridiculous it will look after that.”

Kagami noticed Marinette's arrival and sidled up to her, hands clasped behind her back. “Can’t imagine why she was ever Queen Bee,” she said drily. Marinette put a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. Kagami’s practical sense of humor had only grown the longer her friends had “corrupted” her, as Adrien liked to claim.

“Melody!” Luka smiled warmly, greeting her with a wave. Adrien and Chloe stopped their play fighting to look at her. They crossed the room in an instant, Adrien’s hands placed lightly on her shoulders and Chloe grasping her hands. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better than I have in a while, thank you Chlo,” Marinette smiled at her friends.

Adrien glanced over her head to check the clock in the kitchen. “We still have plenty of time, why don’t you have some breakfast.”

“Adrien Elizabeth Agreste, we do not have ‘plenty of time,’” Marinette retorted. “I’ll take some food to go.”

Lila, sitting with Alya on the couches nearby, gave them a questioning glance. Alya quickly explained, “His middle name obviously isn’t actually Elizabeth, but it’s way funnier to pretend that it is,” before hopping up to give Marinette a quick hug.

“Be safe,” she whispered into her hair, holding her tightly for a few seconds. Marinette gave her a tight-lipped smile as they parted, then caught the apple that Kagami tossed her.

They opted to leave the horses, in case some other players tried to steal them while they were busy with the boss fight. The five friends walked to the teleport kiosk in town.

Marinette felt tense and nervous, but couldn’t help relaxing in the presence of her carefree friends. They all joked and made horrible puns (thank you Adrien) the whole way to the thirteenth floor.

Surprisingly, they didn’t run into any other guilds along the winding, cobbled roads of the thirteenth floor. They must have already been gathered at the dungeon since they were approaching the designated meeting time. Marinette hoped they would wait.

The entrance was an ornately carved archway framing a spiral staircase. The steps led into the depths below the shifting dunes. There were lit sconces every so often, affixed to cavities in the curved walls. The steps were made of glass, but the overlapping flights of stairs didn’t clue them in to how deep the passage went.

A hot draft blew up and scattered the sand at their feet. With a glance to her team, Marinette led the way down.

Their boots had little grip on the glass steps, and they had to grip both walls to try to avoid falling. Adrien cracked one too many jokes about it being a “slippery situation” and earned himself a hearty slap on the back that sent him reaching the next landing a little sooner than he would’ve hoped.

Marinette only paid half-attention to their antics, devoting most of her brain power to going over the plan. Pamphlets in NPC shops said that this boss had ranged area attacks, which wouldn’t mean much until they saw what exactly it could do. She hoped that the extra upgrades she’d given to their armor would protect them from whatever projectiles that could possibly entail.

While her small squad would lead the assault, archers would back them up and hopefully be able to counteract the boss’s ranged attacks. Healers were on deck, of course, and there were plenty of defensive lines with shielding capabilities.

More and more guilds were joining the front lines as the people started to band together. Meetings were no longer the exclusive events they once were, and the plans of when and where to attack were placed in the paper. That meant they’d have some wild cards. Marinette frowned as she considered where they would fit in.

She sighed. Again, they probably wouldn’t know until they were in the thick of the fighting. A glance upward revealed that they could no longer see the daylight warping through the glass steps above them. It couldn’t be that much farther, though it was odd that the air around them was getting hotter, not colder, the farther they went.

Adrien cocked his head and he gestured for the others to quiet down. The five of them had retained some of the attributes lent to them by years of consistent miraculous use, and his hearing was better than most of theirs. They proceeded carefully.

Marinette began to hear it too, a low murmur that sounded like....

Players, dozens of them, were waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

They were scattered about the long, tall antechamber with golden walls that glimmered in the soft torchlight. Arches, like the one at the entrance far up above, supported the ceiling. Three-meter tall pillars displayed vases and other beautiful decor. There was an open doorway at the opposite end of the room, but they couldn’t see anything beyond it but darkness.

The gentle pressure of a hand at her back told her Adrien was standing by her side. She made eye contact with one of the other familiar guild leaders and made her way over to him and his team.

“Hey Danny, are we the last to arrive?” She greeted her American friend. He ran a hand through his cropped dark hair and his icy blue eyes met hers. “Hey Mari. Nah, we’re still waiting on Crimson Dragon.”

His raven-haired friend Sam shook her head. “They’re always late,” she muttered.

Next to her, their other friend (Tucker, if she recalled correctly) shrugged. “But you gotta admit, they always deliver!”

Marinette had to agree with him there. Thanks to the programming in the system, everyone in the game spoke and understood the same language. That meant that the Miracle Workers had wound up working with both Ghostbusters, Danny’s guild, and Crimson Dragon on several occasions even though they both spoke English as their native tongue. She had to admit she was impressed with how well they did. Unorthodox as they were....

“‘Sup party animals!?” A loud voice echoed down the stairwell. The whole room of players turned to look at the small figure sliding to a halt, boots squeaking against the floor. He tossed the hood of a bright red cloak back and threw up finger guns. “Miss me?”

Next to Marinette, Chloe scoffed in a way that said she most definitely did not. Jake was... quite the eccentric character. The rest of his guild, two very embarrassed-looking girls and a tall boy, descended the stairs as well to join their leader.

“About damn time!” Someone spoke up from the back. Jake’s head whipped around and his eyes flashed. Beside her, Danny winced at his hotheadedness. Before anything worse could happen, Marinette gave Luka a meaningful look.

He gave a sharp, loud whistle that drew everyone’s attention to them.

“Listen up people! We all know the plan. Is everyone ready?” Marinette raised her voice to reach the whole chamber. The atmosphere shifted to a laser focus, and she saw grim nods as people drew their weapons and potions.

A glance to Adrien confirmed that it was time. “Let’s go.”

She and her Order led everyone through the great doorway, and into the unknown.

The boss’s room was an enormous, golden circle lined with torches that flickered to life as soon as she stepped onto the glass floor. She could barely see the far wall of the round chamber. Levels of glass flooring circled up to the dome high above their heads, carved into the walls. A few alcoves dotted the walls, but other than that there was hardly any cover to be found, which was concerning.

A whispering noise thrummed through the chamber, made louder by the acoustics of the massive room. Marinette held up a hand to halt the movement of everyone behind her. She listened intently for the sound to happen again.

It didn’t take long, and it was getting louder now. She jerked her head to Adrien and Kagami, who started silently directing groups to assume their stations. While they moved, Marinette cast her eyes around the chamber. Where was the boss?

A loud hissing sound seemed to come from the floor, and then--

Shattered glass erupted from the floor at the center of the chamber. A colossal golden snake with red eyes reared up and bared its fangs at them. This had to be it. Marinette yelled, “Scatter!” and they all ran for it.

It struck right where she had been standing only moments before. Her boots slipped on the glass as she scrambled to gain purchase and hoist herself up onto the nearest alcove. She managed to do it just in time, the boss snapping at her heels.

She raised her shield and distantly heard Kagami shout for the archers to take aim and fire. A volley of arrows fell on the great beast, and Marinette twisted sideways and crouched to take cover under her shield. Loud hissing meant at least some of them had found their target, and to their credit only a few missed and bounced off of her shield.

“Hey, you big ugly worm! I bet you’re all hot air with nothing to show, huh?” Adrien was bravely doing what he did best. Distracting the villain so that Marinette could come up with a plan. She risked a peek from over her shield to watch the snake whip around to face Adrien, who stood a few levels up on the opposite side of the chamber.

It leaned backwards only to shoot forward a few feet, opening its mouth wide. Screams echoed from the people it faced. Oh Kwami, what was that?

Marinette bolted to her feet and raced up the sloping pathway, trying to get a better angle. She stopped and her eyes widened once she could finally see what was happening.

A cone of air coming from the maw of that thing shimmered with heat. She looked in horror to see that Adrien was shielding himself and the civilians around him as best he could, but those he couldn’t reach shouted in pain as their armor began to melt off. The glass around them started to sag and they screamed louder as the floor bent beneath them.

A blur of motion jumped onto the head of the snake from high above. That was Chloe’s signature move, and sure enough it was her. She landed hard enough to knock the boss’s head down to the ground, its body collapsing probably from sheer surprise.

Or maybe it needed a cooldown time? Shit, this wasn’t good. They knew nothing. They were underprepared and overwhelmed.

Mariniette coughed as sand fell from the faraway ceiling at the impact the beast had made when it fell. Below her, Chloe was hacking away at the monster’s face with her flail. It gave no warning before snatching its head back to knock her off her feet and coiling its tail around her. Marinette cried out wordlessly as her friend was trapped in a matter of moments.

She was still squirming when the monster bared its fangs and let loose another breath of boiling air directly onto her.

Marinette could only watch as Chloe's golden armor heated to a bright red and began to melt, her friend still squirming to get out. A desperate cry fell from the blonde’s lips as the hot metal touched her skin, and still the snake kept going.

She flashed a look to their party’s health bars and saw Chloe’s dropping fast. Too fast. Marinette grabbed a specialized arrow and drew back her bow. When she let it loose, the arrow exploded into goopy foam. She’d aimed perfectly, and the snake’s closed mouth was soon covered in the quickly hardening substance.

She pushed off from the wall and jumped. There was a moment when she was suspended in the air where time seemed to slow down. She saw the snake loosen its hold on Chloe and writhe in confusion. She heard the deafening cries from the wounded, and her name on Adrien’s lips. From the corner of her eye, a glint of metal flashed and she felt a split-second of coldness.

Then the moment was over, and she was tumbling onto the snake’s sinewy form and hoisting Chloe up. She half-carried her as she bounded away from the monster. She could see it shaking its head in her peripheral vision. But that wasn’t important right now.

Luka was waiting for her in the antechamber, out of the boss’s reach. He and several other healers already had potions at the ready. Marinette didn’t wait to see how many it would take to save her friend. She ignored Luka’s shouts and ran back into the monster’s room.

* * *

Well, Jason had finally convinced his stupid brothers to fight on the front lines. But the fact that they expected him to fight with them? Laughable.

When they made it to the dungeon, he had left them in the dust, or sand as it were. He was scouting up onto the higher levels of the paths that led up to the top of the dome when it happened.

Some girl was caught in the hold of the boss, a snake with apparently really fucking bad breath. He tensed as it blew a torrent of hot air right on her, but before anyone could move an arrow flew out and hit the beast smack in the mouth, releasing some foaming substance as it did.

Movement on his level caught his eye a few feet away. Jason stilled and observed as best he could without moving.

Some creep was wielding a metallic blowgun, aiming it dead ahead at the--

No, not at the boss. At the person who’d just fired the arrow, the person who had just jumped into the air and left themselves wide open.

He didn’t even think, he just tackled the sneaky bastard. In the commotion, they dropped the dart they’d been about to fire and it sank into their own leg.

As Jason watched, it didn’t take long for green tendrils to start appearing under the person’s skin. They clawed at their leg, but the movements grew weaker by the second.

And then they stilled.

Jason’s eyes widened as he watched them dissolve into pixels. As he watched his own name in the upper corner of his vision turn orange, indicating a player-kill.

Well shit. Dick was going to be pissed.

* * *

Marinette felt calm. Her hands had been shaking when she’d handed Chloe off to Luka, but now she felt nothing but a cool, calculating rage. As she stalked back into the chamber, she saw the boss struggling under another wave of arrows fired from all around the chamber.

A glance upward and a once-over of the pathways spiraling up the walls of the chamber confirmed all she needed to formulate a plan.

Marinette drew her knives and flicked her wrists. This monster was going to regret that. She broke into a sprint and slashed around the body of the snake. It was fast for its size, and it tried to keep up. But she was faster.

Arrows rained down around them, sticking out of chinks in the beast’s scales like some twisted sea urchin. The boss worked furiously to try to unstick its jaw, but as cracks appeared in the substance holding its mouth closed Marinette distracted it with a particularly deep slash.

It wasn’t ready, not yet.

“Get back to the antechamber!” She yelled to the other players. Most of them ran, but some-- Danny, Jake, her Order-- hesitated.

“Go!” She egged on the monster to move towards her, away from the door, giving everyone a chance to escape. “I have a plan.”

They reluctantly followed the others as they left her alone in the dungeon. Adrien paused, asking her, “My lady, I help with--”

“Go.” She growled, glaring at him as best she could while battling the serpent. He gritted his teeth and retreated with the others, but stayed within view of the battle.

Good. Now she could put her plan into action.

Marinette sheathed her knives and pulled out her bow, then dashed to the sloping walkway. The snake pursued, seemingly going after an easy target running scared.

When she’d nearly reached the carved alcove, she fired an arrow with a cord attached to it. The cord was a special elastic design that could retract but couldn’t be pulled to be any longer. It landed high above her and anchored itself into the wall with a distant click. Then came the tricky part.

Marinette turned toward the giant snake and ran at it. Its red eyes burned with rage and the cracks deepened in the hardened foam still leashing its mouth. Still holding onto the other end of that cord, she gave it a sharp tug that sent her flying through the air, far above where the monster had expected her to be.

The leap carried her to the opposite side of the circular walls. She neatly landed on the walkway about two stories up from the ground. The snake gave a muffled hiss of fury and set out on the bottommost level, steadily approaching her as it wound around the cavern.

Marinette let the cord go and started running.

She kept an eye on the monster, firing a regular arrow at it every now and then to keep it angry. That didn’t seem to be a problem. What would be a problem is if she timed everything wrong, or if the snake caught up to her, or if the ceiling wouldn’t--

No. There wasn’t time for doubt. She had faith in herself, and she could almost hear Tikki’s little voice cheering her on. She thought of Chloe and pressed on even harder.

The beast got close enough that she could smell the reek of it before she fired another corded arrow and launched herself across the chamber again. She gained even more height, and continued the climb to the top.

This only made the boss angrier, but she could tell that it sensed victory. There was nowhere left to go once she reached the top. Nowhere but down, that is.

A third corded arrow brought her to the uppermost levels, and then it was only a short run before she reached the edge of the dome. She was panting for breath and her legs were aching with the effort of so much running, but she wasn’t done yet.

One steadying breath in. Two.

The serpent had nearly reached her. Marinette could see it rounding the final curve that would bring it to her level. She drew her bow back and aimed it at its mouth, counting it out in her head.

She held until the beast was nearly upon her, then fired. The arrow was tipped in lead, and easily broke through the already-breaking foam. Immediately after, she fired an arrow directly above her. It hit the apex of the structure holding back all the sand above them.

The beast looked up at the mass of sand falling on it and opened its mouth to fire a hot stream of air.

Marinette didn’t stick around to see how it would play out. She fired one final corded arrow to the side where she could see an alcove in the wall. And there she stayed, facing the wall and shielding her face from the sand pouring into the chamber behind her.

Finally, the avalanche slowed and then stopped. Only then did she risk stepping away from the wall and peering down to see if her plan had worked.

The snake was laying on the floor of the chamber below her. Its form was contorted and broken, speared by great spikes of glass that it had created itself. As she watched, it faded into glowing dust, and a screen popped up in front of her displaying her cut of the loot.

She sighed with relief. Then raced back down as fast as she dared on the dusty glass, anxiety twisting in her gut. She had to see if Chloe was okay.

If something happened to her....

Her thoughts turned to the worst as she neared the bottom of the chamber, no matter how she tried to stay positive. Her hands were shaking when she finally made it to the glass floor and, carefully avoiding the glass spikes, picked her way over to the arch leading into the antechamber.

Adrien was waiting there for her. He embraced her and said, “Don’t scare me like that again,” then let her go to see Chloe.

Tears were brimming in her eyes as she saw her friend, still lying prone on the floor with her head on Luka’s lap. She looked up when Marinette came into her view and sat up with a wince.

“Well,” she said. “I made it.”

Marinette burst into sobs at that and collapsed by her friend’s side, hugging her tightly. She heard Luka softly telling her that Chloe had been at 1 HP, but all the healers put everything they could into bringing her health back up.

It only made her cry harder.

And as she held her friend close, she thought to herself how she would do anything to keep this from happening again. How she couldn’t stand to see her friends get hurt anymore. How she had handled the boss on her own.

There was no Maman and Papa, no Tikki, no Order that could help her. She was alone in this fight, and that was how it had to be.

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#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic #yj

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kryptored · 3 years

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To celebrate @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers reaching 250 followers, here's a lil' sumn-sumn to commemorate that. And out of the 50 prompts that we had to choose from, I went with number 36: "Helping brush their hair after a shower."

Also, if you've read "Fall" from the LBSC Valentine's Day Exchange event, this fic can be considered some sort of sequel to it. Or not. It can stand on its own, too. And if you haven't, you're more than welcome to check it out :) .

AO3

The bathroom door opens, and out walks Marinette wearing an old beige coloured shirt and white pyjama shorts, her feet warm inside her pastel pink home slippers. Her arms are both raised up, holding and rubbing a towel against her wet hair. Feeling the strain on her arms, she tilts her head down a little, drying her hair as she starts walking towards her card-making room. As she nears the desk where her latest clients’ cards sit, she makes sure to keep her hair from dripping onto the wedding invitation cards by setting a fair distance between her and the desk.

The deadline for the cards and meeting back with the client is in three days, yet Marinette feels proud of herself for finishing it early. Still, she feels as if something was missing. For that reason, she tosses her hair behind her - uncaring of the wet spot it will form on her shirt - and hangs her damp towel on her chair. She puts both of her hands on the desk, leaning on its weight as she regards the cards in front of her. The lettering, the colour palette of white, créme, and lavender, and even the small details of flowers on the borders look just right. Well, it looked almost right. She just wasn’t sure what else to do. Should she use envelopes? A wax seal? Twine? The couple who ordered the cards were more than willing to pay extra, but she also didn’t want to spend more on something that might not work. As her arm reaches from corner to corner and leaning further down onto her desk, Marinette misses Luka entering the room.

In his hands, he carries an open notebook filled with what seemed to be another song he is working on for the band. He stops by the doorway when he looks up from the page, the question on his mind left unsaid. He smiles when he notices that she’s wearing one of his old shirts, big enough to hide almost all of her shorts. He also sees her wet towel hanging on the back of her chair, as well as the wet spot forming on the back of the shirt, and shakes his head. He quietly places his notebook on top of a box beside him and walks towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

He hears her gasp in surprise, her still cold hands touching his arms to steady herself, before realizing who is behind her. She turns her head around with a wide smile on her face.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” He drops a kiss on her nose and sees the cards she has been working on for weeks. “Those look great. Does that mean you’re finally done with them?”

“Mm… kind of. I feel like it’s still missing something — just one last thing.”

“I see. Well, I do hope you haven’t forgotten how wet your hair still is.”

“I was in the middle of drying it.”

“Uhuh… Of course you were." He lets go of her, puts his hands on her shoulders, and pushes her down onto the chair. “How about you stay there and see what else you can do with the cards, and I’ll get your brush and hair dryer.”

“Aw… thanks.”

“Do you also want me to tie it up?” He asks her as he walks out backwards.

“Hm… yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ll be right back.”

As he walks out of the room, Marinette turns back around to the cards. She hums as her fingers play with stray strands of her wet hair, her other hand cautiously touching the edge of each card, as if it would give her the answer to her problem. Her eyes wander around her desk and the shelves containing all her supplies, hoping to see something that will help her. It’s when she’s going from drawer to drawer that she hears Luka’s footsteps coming closer.

“You’re supposed to use heat protectant before using a hair dryer, right?” He asks her, his hand showing her the spray bottle he was referring to.

“Mhm.”

“Okay, good. Let me just put some of the stuff on something.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Luka walk over and move one of the chairs from the corner closer to him, using it as a small table. He gently nudges her to lean forward to grab her towel, and proceeds to dry her hair with it as much as possible. When he’s satisfied with the lack of dripping, he reaches for a wide-tooth comb to help him remove some of the knots from her hair. He makes sure to slowly and carefully untangle strands of her hair, occasionally using his deft fingers in place of the comb.

After smoothing down her hair, he uncaps the bottle and whispers to Marinette, “Close your eyes for me, love.”

She does as she’s told, and Luka starts spraying the heat protectant all over her hair. It takes him a few seconds before Marinette hears him put the cap back on the bottle, and set it back onto the chair.

“You’re good now, sweets. I’m just going to plug the hair dryer, so keep an eye out on your cards.”

“Okay.”

She puts paperweights onto the stacks of cards, making sure that nothing is folded or crumpled in the process. For extra measure, she also pushes them off of her, and sits up straighter when she feels Luka return to his place behind her.

“I’m turning it on now.” He warns her, before he switches the device on and a strong blast of warm air blows past the side of her face. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He tells her in a louder voice, adjusting the strength of the air from high to medium heat and speed.

“I will!”

Marinette feels the heat of the hair dryer blowing at her hair — the back, before travelling up to the crown of her head. She closes her eyes again, only this time, to prevent any stray baby hairs poking at her. She feels Luka’s fingers carefully combing through her hair, lifting some of the strands to let the heat reach her roots. His hands systematically move from one area to another, making sure to not miss a spot of wet hair. Once he sees her head full of dry hair, he turns off the hair dryer, and sets it aside. He unplugs it from the outlet, takes hold of a brush, and starts brushing her hair from the bottom to remove remaining tangles. He continues brushing from the top of her head, making sure to do it as gently as possible and not to hit her temple,.

“Tilt your head for me a little bit? Yes, like that. Okay… you still want me to tie your hair up?”

“Yes, please.”

“You have a hair tie with you?”

She shows him her right wrist that has a hair tie wrapped around it. He hooks his finger into it and takes it off of her wrist, only to wear it around his own. With his eyes back to her hair, he decides to go with something simple.

He starts by taking a small piece of her hair from her left side, brings it over, and adds it to the inside of her left side. He repeats this a few times, making sure to grab from the outside part of each section with his pointer finger, and keeping his hands above the braid to keep the hair in place. After he leaves enough length of unbraided hair, he secures it with the hair tie from Marinette.

“Hm… I think I need something else for the finishing touch.”

“What,” she chuckles, “like how I am with the wedding invitations?”

“Maybe,” he tilts his head from side to side, until an idea pops into head. “Stay right there.”

Marinette can only laugh more at Luka’s meticulousness, but continues to sit still and goes back to her own brainstorming. It takes Luka about a minute or so to come back, and when she turns around to ask him what he had in mind, something clicks into place when she sees the blue hair ribbon on his hand.

“I think I also have an idea, but I’d have to ask for your permission to let me borrow it.” She tells him, her eyes focused on the ribbon he’s holding.

“Oh?” he notices her line of sight, and it doesn’t take him long to realize what she means. “Oh. Yeah, for sure.”

He gives her a small smile and walks back to his place behind her, taking hold of her braided hair. He carefully puts the ribbon around the hair tie, tying it into a neat and tight bow without jostling his hard work. Meanwhile, Marinette reaches for the lavender silk ribbons from the left side of her desk, and cuts them down into a certain length — enough to keep the invitation cards secure and in place.

Finally done with his work, Luka clears all his materials away, before coming back and taking a seat beside her. He grabs his own pair of scissors and another roll of the silk ribbon, takes one of Marinette’s already cut pieces, and uses it as reference for cutting.

“How many are we cutting?”

“About 30 more. The wedding is a small one, so they only ordered 50.”

“Okay.”

They cut them in peace (hehe, pun), neither minding the sound of their blades cutting through silk.

Marinette starts humming an unknown song, and so does Luka. Luka starts swaying side by side, and so does Marinette.

When all fifty ribbons are cut, Marinette starts showing Luka how to tie each of them into a ribbon on each card. He is unsuccessful at first, his fingers clumsily maneuvering the silk every now and then. He tries not to let the frustration get to him, trying again and again. Marinette sees him struggling and takes hold of his hand, giving them a reassuring massage before kissing them for luck. He gives a hearty laugh and feels motivation coming back to him; he turns back to his pile of ribbons and starts doing them again, and succeeds. They silently tie their cards, one by one, before they simultaneously reach for their last one together.

“That was nice. Maybe I should start helping you with the cards more.”

“Is that you asking me to pay you as my assistant, then?”

“Are you hiring for part-time?”

“I dunno… I feel like I need you full-time.”

“For the job?”

“No.” She twists to her side and faces him, sitting much closer to the edge of her seat, and takes hold of both of his hands. “If you have the availability, I was wondering if you could stick around with me full-time?”

He mirrors her actions and entwines their fingers, the smile on his face threatening to break his cheeks.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

#LBSC #LBSC 250 followers celebration #pro lukamari #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #Luka Couffaine #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #ml fanfic

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