LOOK WHO’S WRITING AGAIN!!!!
After a 2.5 month break, I actually freaking wrote something!!!! This is for the @mlweeklyprompts prompt of When the Music Stops.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Ladybug had planned it down to the smallest detail. Viperion had only been there as backup in case there was a flaw in her plan. She hadn’t considered his habit of plucking his lyre as he thought, the music sharpening his concentration, but causing a distraction for the akuma. A very dangerous distraction as it turned out, one that had the akuma turning from the trap that Ladybug had set and seeking him out instead.
To Ladybug, Viperion’s music was calming, it helped her to settle her thoughts, knowing that Viperion had her back. This time, the music had cut off abruptly, followed by a short, sharp scream, and the silence that followed echoed hollowly in Ladybug’s ears.
As she skidded around the corner, Ladybug stopped dead when she saw the shock of blue hair poking out from underneath a pile of fallen cardboard. Blue hair. Not teal. It was Luka, not Viperion who lay at the bottom of the heap, and he wasn’t moving. Ladybug took a steadying breath, even as she hurried to his side. Her fingers slid through his hair, checking for injuries. She found a rapidly growing lump, but her fingers came away free of blood, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
...I am 100% certain you did not forget about this fic, but ngl I totally did until I clicked it open. 😂
The title I have in the doc is actually "Luka and Dingo, Sittin' in a Tree..." and is for the @mlweeklyprompts prompt "A: I kissed [B]! / C: Did [B] kiss you back? / A: That’s not the point!" (...from May 29 of last year I'm pretty sure 😂)
So the direction this one was going: School dance is coming up, and Dingo's been trying to get Bri to agree to go with him. He's whining to Luka about it, which turns into a "Why don't you think she likes me" shpiel. Meanwhile, Marinette had asked Luka to meet her (bc she was going to ask him to the dance), and Luka's in the "ok Ding Mari's on her way can we talk about this later?" And one thing leads to another, and Luka (for reasons I still need to work out) decided kissing Dingo to shut him up was the best option?
(It all works out in the end, but this is the "Marinette sees Luka and Dingo kissing, thinks she missed her chance, and runs off/freaks out before Luka can stop her." fic.)
“I just don’t get it!” Dingo wailed, leaning back on his elbows and glaring up at the sky through his shades. Shades was maybe a little generous, Luka couldn’t help but think. He’d worn the white frames today, the ones with the bright orange mirror coat that Luka knew was more for style than protection from the sun. Luka looked back at his guitar as Dingo kicked his booted feet out, groaning again. He’d been groaning – whining, really – for almost twenty minutes now.
Not that Luka was counting.
…ok, Luka was kind of counting, but only because Luka was waiting for Marinette, and each minute Dingo spent whining was another minute Luka wasn’t with Marinette. Granted, it also meant it was another minute closer to when she would arrive, but Luka would have been content to spend that time noodling on Claire, not listening to Dingo whine about the stupid dance.
He just couldn’t seem to escape it.
“You don’t get the dance?” Luka asked, frowning. He was pretty sure he had missed something. The dance seemed pretty self-explanatory. Most were.
“…mate, come on,” Dingo sighed. “You are so out of it today.”
“Sorry,” Luka said with a nervous chuckle. He shrugged and leaned forward, resting his arms on Claire’s body. “Guess I have been a bit distracted.”
The way Dingo grinned let him know it was more than a bit, but he supposed no one could really blame him.
It was the dance’s fault, anyway.
Not that he’d ever really been a fan of the school’s dances before. It was his final year at Sant-Saëns, and Luka had never actually been to one of their dances. Well. He supposed that wasn’t technically true – he’d been to one. During the spring of his freshman year, when a friend’s band had been set to play the dance and their guitarist had come down with food poisoning day-of. But he hadn’t actually gone – he’d been part of the entertainment. It’s not like he’d had a date or anything. He hadn’t seen what the big deal was, anyway. It had all seemed boring to him.
…he’d been more interested last year, maybe, but the person he’d maybe been interested in asking hadn’t really been in an ask-me-to-a-school-dance place. They’d been friends, and she’d been in love with someone else, and even if he’d been slowly – quickly – falling harder and harder for her with every passing day, that hadn’t changed the fact that her heart had been drawn elsewhere. Timing and all that. So he hadn’t gone then, either.
This year was proving…well. He was thinking her heart was maybe starting to redirect, but they were still just friends. There had been that moment, back at Valentine’s Day, where he had hoped…but then he’d gotten sick, and Adrien had surprised everyone with a visit the weekend of, and he’d watched their moment flap away on purple butterfly wings.
Timing always seemed to be a big issue for them.
“…wish it was as easy as it is for you and Mari,” Dingo sighed, and Luka jumped. He couldn’t have heard that right. Things with Marinette were…well. He supposed they were easier than they could have been, from what Juleka had told him, but there was that timing thing. It never felt all that easy to him.
Speaking of…he glanced at the clock hanging over the doors of the school. She had asked him to wait for her after school. There was something she needed to talk to him about – something important – but she had a student council meeting about the dance. As she was her class rep, and on several of the dance subcommittees as well, her attendance had been mandatory. But she wanted to talk to him, and he always wanted to talk to her, so he had told her he’d wait. She should be getting out soon.
…she’d be here already, if not for the stupid dance.
“It’s not easy for me and Mari,” he finally said, brushing a hand through his hair. Dingo kicked at his side, and Luka rolled his eyes. “Anyway. What do you need to be easy? Sorry. I’m paying attention now, I promise.”
“Good,” Dingo huffed. “God, mate, get a pair of pretty blues blinking at you and you’re hopeless.”
Dingo paused, looking thoughtful for a minute.
“…was that my problem? Brown eyes not really your thing?” he asked. Luka couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers finding Claire’s strings and drawing out an awkward tune.
“What?” he asked, and Dingo laughed.
“Nah, I’m messing with ya,” he said. He looked back at the sky, another thoughtful look settling on his face. “Maybe that’s Bri’s problem, though. Lu, do you think that’s it? Do you think she thinks Mari’s prettier than me?”
“…ok, what?” Luka asked again, shaking his head. “And Marinette is definitely prettier than you.”
“Well, of course you’d say that,” Dingo grumbled. He kicked a pebble off the step. “Bri won’t go to the dance with me. She says it’s lame.”
“It is lame,” Luka said absently.
[...]
Before Dingo could say anything else, Luka grabbed his face in his hands and pulled him towards him, smashing their mouths together in a hard press of lips and teeth. His nose scrunched as Dingo yelped and flailed a little – he was pretty sure Dingo’s tongue ended up in his mouth, even if it was barely a second and only a bit it was still more than he’d ever wanted to experience – and it was over as soon as it had started. Luka shoved him back, his eyes narrowed in a glare, and opened his mouth to say something scathing when they heard it.
A clattering. A quiet gasp.
They turned towards the entrance of the school to find Marinette watching them with wide, glistening eyes (eyes that looked too similar to Juleka’s when she was about to run off crying), a collection of folders and papers and art supplies and what Luka was pretty sure was a prototype Kitty Section mask littered around her feet. Her eyes darted between Dingo and him, and Luka realized all too late how bad it had to look: Luka with his hands on Dingo’s face, both of them sitting too close together from where Luka had practically hauled him into his lap, faces red and lips a little bruised (he was pretty sure his was bleeding, and he definitely needed to punch Dingo for biting him), and God if she had seen the kiss…and then she was running, turning on her heel and disappearing into the school with everything she had dropped forgotten at the top of the steps. Luka cursed and shoved Dingo away from him, ignoring the injured yelp and demands to know what the hell had just happened, and shoved himself up to chase after her.
“Marinette! Wait!” he cried, not even realizing he’d run over the prototype mask in his rush to catch her. Inside, the hall wasn’t as busy as it would have been had it been normal school hours, but the after school crowd (the clubs, the loiterers, the remaining faculty) were still milling about. And Marinette…Marinette was gone.
He didn’t care if he had been the one to initiate the kiss. He was going to fucking kill Dingo.
The first one didn’t seem to work quite right, so I’m reposting this separately...sorry if you saw it twice!
From the @mlweeklyprompts
A: You kissed me.
B: You kissed me back.
B: And I’m not here to apologize.
The tension was thick and felt foreign on the open air of the Liberty’s upper deck, a place where she’d always felt safe and calm and...free.
Loved.
Luka was leaning against the rail, staring not at her, but at the deck between his feet.
“You kissed me,” he said quietly.
“I did,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. This was just wrong. Usually he was the one with the steady gaze and she was the one who couldn’t look at him. This was all just...so wrong. “You kissed me back,” she pointed out, and Luka groaned, putting his hands over his face. “And...I’m not here to apologize. Not for kissing you. For a thousand other things, but. Not that. I’m not sorry, Luka. I’m sorry about the timing, I’m sorry it upset you so much, and most of all I’m sorry that I waited so long. I’m sorry for taking you for granted, and dragging you back into it when you thought you’d moved on, when that—when moving on was something you apparently wanted so badly, but—”
“I haven’t moved on,” Luka mumbled from behind his hands.
“S-sorry?” Marinette said, blinking. She couldn’t have heard that right.
Luka took his hands from his face and leaned them back on the rail with a white-knuckled grip. “I haven’t moved on. It’s true that I wanted to, and I’ve been trying, but I haven’t. I’m still as in love with you as I ever was. If I’d moved on I would have just asked you to stop and told you that door was closed. But i didn’t do that.”
He hadn’t done that, it was true. He’d kissed her back so hard they’d fallen back against the wall. Heedless of his stage makeup or the fact that he had to perform in minutes, he’d kissed her like it would kill him to stop, until he finally pulled back with an expression so tortured that she felt a physical pain in her chest.
Then he’d gone on stage and delivered the most moving, emotional, heart-wrenching performance she’d ever heard. Everyone had loved it and the merch they’d brought with them sold out.
Marinette still wasn’t sure whether that was a good sign or not. He could have kissed her back for a million reasons in that moment. Luka was Luka and so she didn’t think it was just...revenge, or entitlement, or any of the darker options that occurred to her as she lay in bed simultaneously horrified at herself and incredibly proud of him and how far he’d come as a man and an artist.
Luka took a slow breath, bringing her back to the moment, and the slump in his shoulders, the way he curled in on himself a little bit, made her heart beat for all the wrong reasons. Why was she always the one hurting him? Why couldn’t she be for him the way he was for her? Why was it she couldn’t seem to give him anything but pain?
“Stop it,” he said, closing his eyes though he still hadn’t looked at her. “I can hear you spiraling from here.”
“Sorry,” Marinette whispered again, and her breath hitched, and no, no, this was all wrong, she was supposed to come here and be mature and sensible like he was, and say all the right things and make him feel the way he’d always made her feel, like his love was a gift and not a burden, that he offered it only when it would be a comfort and a help to her.
She was not supposed to come here and cry and make him put aside his own feelings yet again to comfort her in a situation that was entirely of her own making. Marinette couldn’t fathom how Luka had managed all these years. Had he really not felt any of this? Was his love really that pure, or was he just better at hiding the pain than she was?
She half expected to feel Luka’s arms coming around her even now, but she didn’t. He wouldn’t, not at a time like this. His love had always included forgiveness for her mistakes, but he’d never once stopped her from taking responsibility for them. She struggled for a moment more, and at least that much he was willing to give her, the time to get herself together to do the right thing.
Marinette wiped her eyes quickly with her thumb and straightened her back and shoulders, lifting her chin. “I’m sorry for my bad timing. I know how much your stage career means to you and I should have been more sensitive, even though you handled it...amazingly.” She gave him a quick smile but he still wasn’t looking at her. “I was wrong to let my emotions get the better of me in that moment. I should have waited and talked to you at a better time instead of just jumping you in the heat of the moment.”
Luka raised his head a little, still looking off at the lights over the river rather than at her, and she could see him swallow and sigh, and if she’d been making that face it would have come with tears.
Marinette took a deep breath, and continued, determined to get through what she had to say. “I didn’t—I want you to know, this isn’t because you’ve been pulling away. I understand why you did and that you needed it. I’m not going to say I didn’t realize how important you were to me because I did. You’ve always, always been important. I’ve always loved you on a level that—it wasn’t romantic, it didn’t start out that way, but as a—as a—” She didn’t know how to finish that. She didn’t want to hurt him the way she’d been hurt, and it wasn’t right to call him a brother either. “Confidant,” she said, finally. “Someone who protected me and was there for me...I don’t know how to say it—”
Luka shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I’ve always known that.”
Marinette nodded slowly. Of course he did.
“I don’t really know when it started to be something else,” she said quietly. “I was...I was busy, you were busy, there was no, no time, no good moment, and then you were dating and I thought, I didn’t...I didn’t want to get in the way if that was what you wanted, and then...and then you weren’t dating and then you were and…” She stopped abruptly, suddenly aware Luka was cringing.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know the details of his relationships or why they had ended. She hadn’t felt like she had the right to ask, and the one time she had even hinted in that direction to Juleka, the look Juleka gave her said that Juleka thought so too.
However, Marinette wasn’t stupid and she knew Luka. She knew that Luka was a compassionate person who believed in honesty and communication, and he might not have named names but none of the people he dated were stupid, either. She’d found herself drawing back just to ease the strain on Luka. Apparently, it was much easier to accept that he was trying to move past feelings for someone else than it was to accept that he still worked closely with that person. Marinette had quietly offered to step down as his personal stylist and Luka had refused so simply and matter-of-factly that she hadn’t had the guts to push harder.
“I thought, I should be flattered,” he said softly, shifting his weight. “That they were all so sure you were in love with me too and it was only a matter of time before you confessed and I dumped them. I thought I knew you well enough that I would have seen it.” He finally looked at her then, sadly. “Now I’m wondering when I stopped being able to read you. When you stopped being open and sincere with me.” He was silent a moment. “Why, Marinette?”
Marinette shrugged, fingers digging into her arms. “I didn’t feel like it was right to let you see how I was feeling until I was sure. I’ve hurt you for years by not loving you, and I just...I didn’t want to give you that kind of hope when I still didn’t know what I wanted. I mean, I knew what I wanted, I just didn’t know, if...if I could have it. If it would even be right to ask for it, after all this time.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “It all sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”
“Maybe you should have tried that sooner,” Luka pointed out, the corner of his mouth quirking up, though there didn’t seem to be much humor in the tiny smile.
Marinette dropped her gaze to her feet, and it was almost comforting, a return to the usual dynamic. Except that it wasn’t comforting, because he was right, and he was disappointed in her.
“I’m sorry for that too.” Marinette sighed. “When have I ever done what I should have done when I should have done it outside of b—an emergency?”
“That’s a fine,” Luka reminded her with a quiet chuckle. “No negative self-talk.” Marinette smiled tightly in spite of herself at the memory of the jar she’d decorated so long ago in purple, pink, and blue, that had sat proudly on the Liberty’s galley counter for years now. Luka sighed and she came back to the moment. “You were on a streak, too,” he pointed out, and then he chuckled again. “Must be going around. Juleka broke her streak this week too.”
“I’m sorry,” Marinette said automatically, and then shook her head. “Maybe I should just...I should just go.”
“Marinette,” Luka said, and she lifted her eyes to his in one last act of courage. “Say what you came to say,” he told her quietly, and she swallowed hard. Okay. Maybe that wasn’t the last.
“I’m in love with you,” she said simply, determination alone keeping her feet rooted to the deck when the panicky part of her brain insisted that she flee screaming. “I want to be with you. But I’ll respect whatever decision you make just like you’ve always supported me. And, if moving on is what you want...then I’m okay being in the background for a while, or whatever you need. I’ll do my best to get over it so we can be friends again.”
Luka sighed, finally shifting his weight off the rail and back onto his feet. He flexed his hands as he let go and Marinette winced slightly at the thought of how sore they must be from clinging there so tightly. She held her ground, trembling slightly, as he advanced on her and looked in her face, taking a deep breath and sighing it out through his nose in that very Luka way.
Marinette held her breath as Luka leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, his hands coming up to curl lightly around her arms, his thumbs rubbing against the goosebumps the chill breeze had raised.
“You make me so stupid,” he sighed, a quaver in his usually steady voice. “Why am I such an idiot when it comes to you?”
“That’s a fine,” Marinette whispered, and her breath hitched when he slid his hands down to pry loose her grip on her own arms. “There goes your streak too,” she managed to add, as he tugged her hands away and down and tangled just the tips of his fingers with hers.
Luka grunted. “It doesn’t count if I’m quoting Jules. I guess she was right after all.”
“Right about what?” Marinette whispered, almost afraid to move.
“I’m just going to be an idiot forever,” he said, and closed the last bit of distance between their lips.
Marinette startles at the knock echoing through her small little apartment. She sets her coffee to the side, makes a feeble attempt to calm her bedhead, and makes her way across the living room. She isn’t the least bit surprised to see a rain drenched Luka standing on her doormat. He rocks ever so slightly back and forth on the heels of his feet, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “He-”
“You kissed me,” she cuts him off. She tries to keep her tone steady, but she can’t help the little quip of excitement that peeks through.
Luka stills and locks eyes with her with a tiny smirk. “You kissed me back, and I’m not here to apologize.” His smirk disappears and he wipes at some of the raindrops that drip down from his bangs onto his forehead. “I am sorry for the way I did, though. That was a little...crass. I really am sorry. I should not have put you or Adrien in that situation.”
Marinette’s face softens. “Kissing me in front of Adrien and all of our friends during his launch party right after I’d broken up with him was a little- well, crass is a good way to put it.” She pauses and reaches for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “Though, I can’t say I’m mad you did. Does that make me a terrible person?”
He pulls her to his chest, wraps his arm around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head. “I feel like a terrible person. Adrien is my friend too, and he didn’t deserve that, but damn, Nette. As soon as Rose told me the two of you were over, it was like I went into autopilot.”
“We can be terrible people together,” she chuckles ever so slightly into his hoodie, not caring that being pressed up against him was starting to dampen her own clothes as well.
Luka let’s out a content sigh, and rests his forehead against her head. “Together. I like that.”
“Me too,” Marinette smiles, going up on her tiptoes as he leans down to meet her in a kiss.
__
Written for the @mlweeklyprompts
A: You kissed me.
B: You kissed me back.
B: And I’m not here to apologize.
While the girls are having a sleepover, the conversation turns to soulmates and the idea of tattoos on your skin revealing your true love. It’s just for fun. Isn’t it?
Based on the @mlweeklyprompts for the week: “Pen Tattoo.”
Also on Ao3.
“Soulmates are so romantic,” Rose cooed, fluttering her eyelashes while releasing a deep sigh and pressing her hands to her heart. Marinette tried to refrain from rolling her eyes, but could hear the quiet groans from the rest of the girls in the group. Her room was crowded with all her friends, blankets thrown all over the floor with their pillows for a “girls only” sleepover.
“Soulmates are just fairytales, Rose. Who has time to wait around for something as silly as a soulmate?” Alya. Ever practical and down to earth Alya.
“You don’t think you and Nino are soulmates?” Rose pressed, leaning in closer with the widest babydoll eyes that Marinette had seen. Alya’s scoff was loud.
“Oh hell no. That soulmates thing is far too much work. Could you imagine? What if you thought the other person was your soulmate and it didn’t work out? What if that person was a monster? What if you spent your whole life waiting for “the one” only to discover you are old and it’s too late?”
Rose’s shoulders dropped a little as her romantic bubble burst.
“I wouldn’t want a soulmate,” Alix muttered. “Way happier knowing that I don’t have to spend my life waiting for the other half of me or whatever. I’d rather just be alone. What about you, Mylene?”
Their dreadlocked quiet friend just smiled.
“I don’t really believe in soulmates,” she said quietly. “But if Ivan was mine, I’d be fine with that.”
Marinette shifted slightly as Alya narrowed her eyes in her direction.
“What about you, Marinette?”
All the eyes in the room snapped to her face with varying degrees of curiosity. Unable to stop the rush of embarrassment that flooded her cheeks, she stared down at her suddenly fascinating fingers. Did she believe in soulmates? Not exactly. But ….
“Sort of?” she admitted finally. Rose squealed and clapped.
“I knew it!”
There was a buzz of conversation from her friends then.
“Why?” blurted out Alya over them all.
“Well, see… There’s this old Chinese story Maman used to tell me when I was growing up about a red string of fate. Basically, the story says that there’s this invisible red string attaching you to your one true love. I guess - I guess I always hoped that it was true.”
Rose sighed dreamily, sinking back against Juleka. Juleka just looked down at the blond haired pixie against her with a soft smile.
“My favourite soulmate stories are the ones where you only see in black and white until you meet your soulmate and then see colours,” admitted Mylene.
“I like the idea of a tattoo that symbolizes your relationship,” mumbled Juleka. Rose squealed, scrambling to her feet to grab a pen from Marinette’s disastrous desk.
“Draw the tattoo we’d have.” The pen was thrust into Juleka’s hand before Rose flopped back onto the ground in front of her, arm held out for a design to be doodled on it. Juleka stared blankly at Rose for a moment, blushing slightly before pressing the pentip to the pale skin of Rose’s arm. Everyone squeezed in close around them as Juleka sketched, the image of rose wrapped in a dark, swirling ribbon coming to life.
Before long, Marinette’s sketching markers were strewn all over the place as each of the girls took turns having a design doodled on the inside of their wrists to represent their significant others. Alix just doodled on her own arm - oversized pink flowers taking shape on her skin.
Marinette drew on Alya’s wrist, trying to make sure her lines were straight as Alya laughed.
“It tickles!” she yelped, trying not to pull away.
“Stay still,” Marinette ordered, pinning her friend’s arm between her knees in order to continue the marker tattoo. With careful lines, she doodled away, an image of a cell phone tangled with the wire of an orange headphone set that lay on the ground around it. For a moment, Marinette debated adding some tiny nods to their secret hero identities, but pushed it aside.
Alya stared at the imaginary tattoo with admiration before snapping a picture to send it off to Nino with a mischievous grin. Slapping the phone down on her pillow, Alya asked to see the design that Juleka had drawn on Mylene - a beautiful set of musical notes on a rainbow coloured staff.
Marinette copied Rose’s design onto Juleka;s wrist so they would match. Rose made a high pitched noise as they placed their arms side by side, beaming at each other before pressing their foreheads together in happy silence.
“Your turn,” offered Juleka suddenly, snatching the black marker out of Marinette’s hand before pulling the arm close to draw.
“But…. I don’t have anyone-”
Marinette’s arguments were futile as the pen hit her skin in a smooth line. She held her breath, watching as the shapes that Juleka drew formed into a full picture. It was simple.
A small open umbrella coloured in with a brilliant emerald green.
Reaching out with her other hand, she silently ran her fingers over the drawing on her skin. A shiver ran through her at her touch,making her gasp as her vision blurred to surround her with the image of green eyes smiling at her in the rain. The scene swirled suddenly, the eyes locked with hers morphing into a solid green, wrapped in a familiar black mask before the sound of thunder jolted her back to the room with her friends.
Four sets of eyes looked at her with wide eyes.
“Are you ok?” asked Alya slowly, reaching out to touch Marinette’s hand. “What just happened?”
Marinette blinked, trying to figure out what, exactly, she had seen and why. Her mouth opened and closed kind of like a fish, unable to voice anything coherent.
A loud ding saved her, making Alya dive for her phone. Flicking open the screen with a grin, she burst out laughing.
“Nino’s freaking out about the idea of soulmates. Look.” The phone screen swung in their direction, showing a poorly sketched copy of the image on Alya’s wrist on the arm of her boyfriend. Everyone chuckled except Marinette who stared at the umbrella on her arm with a disconnected kind of feeling.
Alya’s phone dinged again. And again. And again, in rapid concession. She turned the phone back to see why Nino was in high text mode. Marinette looked up at her friend when she said nothing, only making a slight gasp at her phone screen before going somewhat pale.
“Uh, Mari….”
The phone appeared right in front of her face, too close to focus. Taking the phone from Alya, she stared at the picture on the screen without fully understanding what she was looking at. With a frown, realization sank in. A pale white wrist filled the screen, a small red umbrella etched on the skin.
The phone vibrated as it dinged over and over, making her drop the phone onto her lap while she stared at Alya with a silent question.
“Adrien.”
Of course Nino was with Adrien. They were best friends.
Suddenly the room was too small, the air too thick. She scrambled to her feet, trying to untangle herself from the blankets as she struggled to breathe. Her friends called out to her as she stumbled down the stairs and out of the apartment to the street.
“Tikki,” she squeaked, unable to process it all and desperately needing her friend. The little red kwami pressed into her cheek, reminding her to breathe.
“It’s going to be ok, Marinette. Just breathe.”
“Are soulmates real?”
Tikki looked at her with soft eyes. Marinette knew. Just then, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that soulmates were true. At least, for them. Ladybug and Chat Noir. Destiny called them together.
“Transform me,” she whispered, savouring the rush of energy on her skin before swinging up to the rooftops. She could feel him. Somewhere out there on a Parisian rooftop in the encroaching darkness of night. Her feet pulled her from eave to eave, leading her towards the Eiffel Tower. A final swing pulled her up the metal frame, high up the tower to the platform they frequently sat to observe the city.
He waited, cat ears twitching slightly as her feet landed, eyes instantly finding her across the gap between them. She took a hesitant step forward, unsure exactly what to say.
“Marinette,” he said, the waver in his voice making it hard to keep from wrapping her arms around him and hold him tight. Never had she heard her name said with such… reverence? Another soft set of words encased him in a flash of green, melding the black of his suit to the usual blue jeans and button-up white shirt she recognized from his civilian self. Blonde hair and green eyes held her gaze, the mask fading away to nothing, leaving in its place one Adrien Agreste.
Taking a step closer, his hand snaked out and gently brushed a renegade tendril of hair behind her ear.
“Look.” He held out his wrist, revealing the outline of the red umbrella on his skin. Her gloves ran over the design in awe. It was real. “I was sitting there with Nino, playing games and chatting when his phone dinged with a message from Alya. She said you guys were goofing around drawing soulmate tattoos on each other and sent him a picture of the one you made for her. He thought it would be fun to draw it back. We are terrible at drawing, may I add? Especially on skin. ANYWAY, he was messaging her back with that picture when all of a sudden the whole room vanished and all I could see was you. Your blue eyes, and then the mask. When the room stopped spinning, it felt like I’d burnt my arm. When I looked down, I saw this umbrella. And I knew, milady. I knew it was you. It’s always been you.”
“Spots off,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from him. He winced slightly at the assault of pink on his eyes before settling back on her face with some rapid blinks.
“Hi.” She didn’t know if she could trust her voice anymore, whispering a broken hello in return. The heat from how close he stood made it hard to think at all. He gently pulled her arm up to look at her matching, and yet opposite, umbrella design, running his thumb slowly over it. A tingle ran down her spine as he pressed his lips against it. His fingers threaded through hers.
His other hand landed gently on her shoulder.
“May I kiss you?”
She didn’t know if she said yes out loud, but must have- the hand on her shoulder pulling her closer, the one between her fingers squeezing tightly as their lips pressed together. The current that jumped between them left them breathless.
@mlweeklyprompts
When Juleka walked into her bedroom, she saw her brother lying face down on his bed, head buried under his pillow. She lifted the pillow, and Luka groaned, so she dropped the pillow back on his head. “What’s the matter with you?”
Gripping the sides of the pillow he pulled it tighter over his head and he mumbled something unintelligible. Juleka lifted the pillow, tugging it from his hands, before smacking him with it. Rolling over, Luka levered himself into a sitting position and scrubbed his hands over his face. He sighed deeply, but this time spoke clearly enough. “I kissed Marinette.”
Juleka grinned and threw the pillow at him, and it was sheer reflex that had him snatching it out of the air, inches from his face, although it slipped from his fingers when she asked, “Did she kiss you back?”
He snatched up the pillow and pressed it to his face as he screamed softly into it before letting it drop again. “That’s not the point!”
Snatching the pillow again, Juleka hit him with it. “Pretty sure it is, Dumbass. Either she kissed you back, or she didn’t. I’m betting she did, though.”
Groaning once again, Luka blushed but nodded. “She did.” He sighed, a dopey smiled crossing his face before it fell. “But I wasn’t supposed to be pushing my feelings on her. She knew how I felt. I had no intention of pushing the issue.”
“It doesn’t sound like she minded. This is Marinette. She overthinks everything.” Juleka smirked. “You made her stop thinking.”
Luka buried his face in his hands, and sighed deeply. “Until her brain realized what she was doing.”
It was Juleka’s turn to groan. “What did she do?”
Luka closed his eyes remembering the kiss. He’d been on his way back from a delivery, when he had seen Marinette practically dancing out of the Grand Paris Hotel, shimmering with joyful energy. She’d called out to him, and he’d hopped off his bike, leaning it against a nearby tree, turning in time for Marinette to fling herself at him.
He’d caught her around the waist, and she’d been talking excitedly about Jagged Stone, and something about another commission, and she’d been smiling up at him so radiantly, and before he had realized it, his mouth had been on hers. Marinette had reacted immediately, one hand gripping at his shoulder, the other trying to bury itself in his hair, only for them to bump against his bike helmet.
She’d pulled back then, eyes blown wide, fingers touching her lips, wonderingly. He’d smiled softly down at her and simply said, “Hello.”
His voice had snapped Marinette out of her reverie and she’d blushed bright red, her mouth working like she wanted to say something, but then turned and bolted. Luka had called after her, but she was around the corner and gone, and technically, he was still at work. Sighing, Luka’s shoulders slumped and he walked the three steps back to his bike before pedaling back to work to clock out.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he looked at Juleka and answered her question. “What did Marinette do after I kissed her? She ran away.”
He sighed, and Juleka chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds like Marinette.”
Tentative footsteps coming down the hallway had the siblings falling silent. When Marinette appeared in the doorway, Juleka pushed off from her perch at the end of Luka’s bed. She passed her friend in the doorway and mumbled, “Talk, don’t run” as she passed by, before disappearing. Marinette looked everywhere but at Luka, until he patted the bed next to him in gentle invitation. Her eyes darted towards him and away again, but she gave the tiniest of nods, and perched on the end of his bed.
Smiling shyly, her eyes didn’t stray from her hands tightly clasped in her lap. “Can we have a do-over?”
“You want to tell me your news again?” Luka’s smile was gentle, masking the way his heart sank at her words.
“Well, yes.” Marinette’s eyes held his for the first time since she’d arrived, even as the blush stole up her neck. “But I was hoping to re-do the kiss as well. I promise not to run away this time.” She glanced up in time to catch his stunned expression.
“I’m sorry I just kissed you like that and then ran away, but I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now, and I was so happy and you were looking at me like you wouldn’t mind it, but then I kissed you without asking…” Marinette trailed off as Luka’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“You don’t need to apologize, Marinette. Actually, I should be the one saying I’m sorry, for kissing you without asking.” Luka shook his head before a grin spread over his face. “So, you’ve wanted to kiss me for a while?”
Marinette groaned and scooted close enough to Luka to drop her head on his shoulder. Luka’s hand on her cheek had her looking up at him, surprised at how close his face was to hers. His breath whispered across her lips, causing them to part in surprise as he whispered, “How about that do-over?”
“Yes, please.”
The words were barely out, before their mouths were pressed together again. This time when Marinette tried to run her fingers through his hair, they encountered no resistance, and Luka let out a little whine at the feel of her fingernails on his scalp. He felt Marinette smile against his lips and pulled back to rest his forehead against hers. “So… you had news to tell me?”
Marinette blinked at him slowly. Sounding more breathless than she intended, she asked, “Can I get another do-over first?”
Luka chuckled, but didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss her again. This time when they broke apart, Marinette told him about the commission she’d received from Jagged Stone. Not just for another album cover, but for his stage look as well.
Grinning, he congratulated her with another kiss. It was over an hour later when Marinette was on her way home, that she passed a smirking Juleka on the deck of the Liberty.
“I, um, I’m going on a date with your brother this weekend.”
Juleka’s grin widened. “It’s about time, too.” When Marinette gaped at her, she laughed. And if in the days that followed, she used the word ‘do-over’ more often than necessary, the fact that Marinette blushed every single time was worth the strange looks she got from everyone else.
This story was written partly because of Lyra’s sequel to the original, and partly for @mlweeklyprompts prompt of Destiny.
Part 1 - Marinette’s Story
Part 2 - Adrien’s Story (by @lyramae-archer)
Couffaines didn’t have many marks on their skin. They tended to let few people in, and were fiercely loyal to a few people. Ankara Couffaine, the family matriarch, had two large ones, and several smaller ones. The large ones, blue and purple were for her children, Luka and Juleka. Both were musically themed, and one covered each shoulder, intertwining across her back. Her right thigh held an old, faded guitar, the father of her two children, someone that showered her and her children with money rather than time; possessions rather than visits.
The fourth mark surprised those who knew of it. Her right hip held a surprisingly large mark representing Officer Roger Raincomprix, the lawman with whom she had a contentious relationship. She respected his point of view, and that he was entitled to it… he was just wrong.
To her surprise, shortly before school started up for both Juleka and Luka, a fifth mark appeared. Her right forearm had a faint mark, a trio of figures, what looked like a purple butterfly being batted at by a black cat, who in turn had a ladybug perched upon its head.
Her children had similar marks, although Juleka’s also had a stylized blue feather, and Luka’s was missing the ladybug. It didn’t take long for her, or much of Paris, to realize what the marks meant. They would be directly affected by Hawkmoth’s powers; victims of his akumas. She wondered about their differences and worried over Luka, why Ladybug did not appear for him.
It was just before the start of the school year, the time when most kids had new marks show up. Other than the one that they realized came to represent her akumatizations, she only got a couple of new marks, but those that she had, brightened considerably, especially the pink unicorn that seemed to canter down her arm.
Luka was starting lycee, a new school with new people, but he didn’t see any new marks, other than the cat and the butterfly. Quiet around those he didn’t know, but fiercely loyal to those he loved, his marks tended to be big and bold, or nonexistent. The lime green platypus on his left calf was the perfect example. Most people recognized it as Dingo King, his best friend, but they shook their heads and muttered that it was the wrong Australian animal. Luka himself had been confused as a six year old, when the mark had appeared, believing for over a year that a platypus and a dingo were the same animal.
His mother and sister were represented, one on each arm, but the teal snake that coiled around his right wrist was completely new. He hid it under a leather cuff until he knew who it represented, and then kept it covered, so he didn’t have to explain about the kwami to anyone.
He was grabbing the shirt off his bed, his back turned to Juleka, when he heard her gasp. Giving her a quizzical look, his sister indicated that Luka should look at his back in the mirror. He couldn’t hide his surprise, either, at the pale cascade of cherry blossoms that fell from the nape of his neck, disappearing under the waistband of his jeans. Luka just stared at it, a little dumbfounded at the sheer size of the mark that covered him, keeping a close eye on it as it darkened over the weeks leading up to the music festival.
It was about a month into the school year, that he noticed a detail on one of the flowers, close to his left shoulder blade and directly behind his heart. A small ladybug rested on one of the flowers. The same ladybug he’d caught glimpses of on his mother and Juleka; also on Ivan and Rose, but all of them had the ladybug in the same place, on the head of the black cat.
He’d often wondered what made him different; why Ladybug wouldn’t be there when he was akumatized, but now he thought he knew. He wondered if the girl that was represented in the cherry blossoms on his back was the girl behind the Ladybug mask. Was he really lucky enough to have Ladybug in his life? Luka felt torn, as he sat there, trying to meditate, his thoughts circling around the mystery woman who may or may not be Ladybug. He wanted to search for her, someone who would make such an impact on his life, but he didn’t want to put her at risk by searching for her identity. Even if that was her identity.
Heaving a sigh, Luka pushed any thoughts of Ladybug or Blossom, as he’d dubbed his mystery girl, aside, and settled into his meditation. Calm washed over him like the waves lapping at the hull of the boat. At the edge of his senses, a bundle of manic energy approached. Everything about her called to him, even before he opened his eyes and drank her in, from her blue-black hair to her soft pink ballet slippers.
Her bright smile faded a bit as he teased her, and he immediately apologized, tugging his guitar back into his lap, hiding behind it; his shield between him and the world. Marinette. Her name swirled in his mind as he strummed the song that flowed from her to him, filling his fingers with electricity. He knew… this was the girl on his back, and a few hours later, laying in his bunk after his mother had been akumatized, he knew that she was Ladybug, too.
It was painful for him to watch her, as she so obviously loved another, but he stood by her side, determined to be her friend, knowing how much she mattered. It happened, occasionally, he knew, that relationships and friendships were one-sided. He wondered if Hawkmoth had marks for any of his victims, or if they were just tools to him.
Months went by, and Luka spent more time with Marinette. His heart ached for her, seeing how stressed she became both over the boy she was chasing and the secret life she couldn’t share. He wanted to tell her that he knew, but wasn’t ready to tell her how he knew. He sighed. Luka knew that he often came off as too intense. Meditation helped with that, as did keeping his gaze averted whenever she was looking. He’d told her where he stood, that he thought about her often, but that he was willing to be by her side in whatever capacity she needed.
The day she offered him a miraculous; the day she let him step into her secret world of heroes and villains and life or death struggles, he was grateful. For the first time, he felt like he was truly helping her. It was a few weeks later, after a terrible battle where Marinette had the weight of the world dropped on her, where he had offered her a shoulder to cry on, that he’d shown her the truth of what he knew.
She had opened her heart… her life to him after that, and since that first kiss, they’d never been far from each other’s side. The more time he spent with Marinette, the deeper in love he fell, and she with him. The years passed, and they were still together, Luka attending the Conservatoire de Paris, not wanting to leave Marinette alone, even though they fought after he was turned down a spot as a guitarist on an international tour. Marinette had insisted that he not let her hold him back, but ultimately Luka had left it open ended, saying that he wanted to finish school before touring, and Jagged had understood, promising to revisit the offer after Luka had graduated.
They’d been sitting together on the bed in his dorm room, both working on homework, as Marinette was finishing up her last year at Lycee, already accepted to the IFA Paris, less than a kilometer from where she sat now. Luka had his guitar in his lap, trying to work on something for his composition class, scribbling notes as he tried different chords when Marinette’s phone rang with the ringtone reserved for when one of the heroes was trying to call Ladybug.
Luka could hear the plaintive “Help!” that came through the phone from Chat before the call cut off. Marinette looked at Luka, wide-eyed, and was calling for her transformation before Luka could even process the desperation he’d heard in the other man’s voice. Ladybug was through the window before he could ask her if she wanted him to come, and he looked to Sass for confirmation. When the little snake nodded, he was transformed in moments and out the window. Chat’s signal was already gone from his tracker, and Viperion followed Ladybug, laying low on a nearby roof when he saw Ladybug approaching a sobbing Adrien Agreste.
Ladybug was crouching near him, a hand reaching out to her hand to Adrien, when he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes and stripped off his shirt. Viperion half rose, but saw Adrien turn his back to Ladybug, showing the tattoos that nobody ever glimpsed. Far enough away to not be able to see clearly, Viperion could see clearly enough the purple miasma and what must be hundreds of akuma victims, the emergence of the House of Gabriel butterfly outline standing out. Adrien pointed at the yinyang in the middle of his back, and Viperion knew beyond any doubt that he was looking at Chat Noir revealing himself to Ladybug, as well as, if he wasn’t mistaken, the identity of Hawkmoth. Adrien was tugging his shirt back over his head, and when he turned, Viperion was able to see the tip of a blue feather on the man’s lower back, just above the waistband. Mayura must be someone close to him, too.
He saw Adrien scanning the skyline, looking for someone, or something, before drawing Ladybug into a fierce hug, and planting a kiss on her forehead. Ladybug sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand, and turning to scan the skyline herself, her eyes resting on the rooftop where he lay. One hand still resting on Adrien’s arm, she gestured with her chin for him to join them. Smoothly flowing to his feet, Viperion was at Ladybug’s side within seconds, nodding at Adrien.
“Adrien, I’m so sorry. What can we do?”
Adrien’s answer was immediate, his voice a very Chat-like growl. “Take him down.”
Luka nodded, popping out a screen on his lyre, and typing furiously for a few moments, before tucking the instrument on his back. “I summoned the rest of the team. Everyone who is currently still in Paris will be here shortly.”
He looked to Adrien. “You can stay this way, or cuit up. Whichever skin you are more comfortable in.” He clapped his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Know, whatever you do, we will support you.” He glanced over at Ladybug, who was nodding, her hand still resting on Adrien’s forearm.
“It’s you and me against the world, Chat. We have a few more team members now… but they’re here because of you and me.” Adrien's face lifted in a wobbly but genuine smile, and gave both Ladybug and Vipierion a brief, but fierce hug. Plagg didn’t even bother with the sarcasm, instead nodding at Adrien that he was ready, and in a green flash, Chat Noir stood in front of his friends.
Viperion placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Does your father know that you know?” When Chat nodded, Viperion’s smile tightened. “Then you’re staying in my dorm with me. My roommate’s practically living at his girlfriend’s apartment. I’ll let him know I have company, and he won’t bother you.”
Chat Noir nodded his thanks, too overcome by the emotional rollercoaster of the past half hour to really process anything else. Bunnix was the first of their friends to arrive, but soon the whole group was gathered on the rooftop, planning the takedown of Hawkmoth.
Much to everyone’s surprise, the takedown of Hawkmoth went according to plan, thanks to Chat Noir’s intimate knowledge of his father’s home and schedule. To Luka, the battle was a blur, only later would moments, and snippets of battle come floating back to him, although he was never sure if they happened in this timeline or another. The scene that haunted him was one where Gabriel, unmasked, was taunting Chat Noir, his own son, for how much the mark of his mother had faded. Gabriel claimed that everything he had done was for her, for Emilie, to bring her back, but when Chat’s claws shredded Gabriel’s shirt, Gabriel’s skin was pure white, unblemished, and completely untouched by any color.
He later discovered that there were no marks anywhere on Gabriel’s body, none for his family, his victims, those who fought against him, or even the wife that he claimed he was doing all this for. Adrien had broken down in Marinette’s arms at the news, and later, Luka and Marinette had wept together for their friend.
Adrien had been taken in by his bodyguard, who owned a small country cottage just outside of Paris. Marinette released Adrien to the man’s care only after he’d shrugged out of his jacket and shown her the mark of the black cat, and an image that could only have belonged to a younger Adrien, intertwining around his arm, bright and bold and glowing with the same love she saw in the bodyguard’s face.
It was almost six years to the day afterGabriel had gone to jail, almost 4 years since the man’s passing, less than a year since Luka had married Marinette, when a new butterfly emerged on Luka’s chest. Very faint, and in the softest shade of lavender, the whisper of its wings spoke of hope and happiness; home and harmony. Two weeks after that, when Marinette informed him, eyes nervous, but wondering, that she was pregnant, he smiled softly at her, kissing her temple, her cheek and then her lips, his heart filled with the thoughts of his first child, a daughter. Harmony.
Kiss prompt #20 for Lukanette. Bonus points if Luka is the one that can’t speak. 😘
Kiss #20. Not being able to speak properly after the kiss ends
“Buh.”
OK… so it wasn’t French. It wasn’t even coherent, but Luka was eternally grateful it wasn’t the words rolling around in his head. I love you. Stay with me forever. Kiss me again.
It was something he’d dreamed of for the past year or more; since the day he’d met her, the glorious hour he’d spent around her, before he saw the way she’d looked at another. Since that day, he’d dreamed of kissing Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And here she was, having just marched into his bedroom, blue eyes blazing, demanding to know if he was still in love with her, like Juleka claimed, or if he’d moved on like he’d told her he was doing.
He had told her that because he had seen how she was growing closer to Adrien. The stuttering had almost completely disappeared, and they appeared more friendly than ever. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but he didn’t want her feeling guilty on his account, so he told her he was moving on. He’d tried, but Marinette was a hard girl to just forget about, and so he’d just shrugged, knowing that he’d loved her until he didn’t.
So when Marinette had stormed into his room, demanding the truth, he’d given it to her… that he was still in love with her. He made no apologies for his feelings, nor his deception, if he was being honest, self-preservation was a necessity after all. He was shocked when she marched over to him, pulled his guitar from his hands, tossing poor Claire onto his pillow before stepping up to stand between his knees.
She had leaned forward and kissed him, hard and fast and awkwardly, as first kisses often were. Their teeth clacked together, and she didn’t tilt her head enough, so their noses were still squashed, but her lips were pressed against his and her hands were in his hair. After a moment’s hesitation, his mouth came alive under hers, kissing her back, a little whine escaping his throat as his hands reached for her, clenching at her waist as he fought not to crush her against him.
His eyes fluttered open, and his eyes hungrily roamed her face. He opened his mouth to ask her why, to thank her, to say something that would stop her face from growing any redder, but what came out was incredibly ineloquent.
“Buh.”
He closed his eyes, gathering his wits and centering himself, taking several deep breaths, before opening his eyes and looking at Marinette and smiling. He tried again to talk to her, to ask her why, to see what she was feeling. What came out was slightly more eloquent, but still not what he’d been hoping for. “You kissed me.” His voice was wondering rather than accusing, and the dreamy look in his eyes, and the way his fingers came up to touch his mouth went a long way to break Marinette out of the spiral she was starting down.
“Yeah? Well, you kissed me back! And I’m not apologizing. Luka Couffaine, I’ve been in love with you for months. I tried to confess to you, but you told me you had moved on.”
Luka groaned at that and pulled her closer, his mouth angling back towards hers. “I love you Marinette. I always have.” The words whispered on a breath across her lips, and then there was no space between them, this kiss softer, better planned and had both of them making noises that they would probably be embarrassed about later, but did not care in the moment.
When they broke apart, Marinette was surprised to find herself sitting in Luka’s lap, his arms banded around her. His forehead rested against hers, their breath mingling and their eyes smiling at each other. Luka closed his eyes and sighed, before opening them and, hoping what he said this time was coherent, groaned to himself. “I am such an idiot.”
He brought his hands up to cover his face, but Marinette bracketed his wrists loosely with her hands, tugging lightly to get him to look at her. “But you’re my idiot.” She blushed red and her eyes slid away from his. “If you want to be that is.”
He tripped over his tongue trying to say yes, and then asking her out, and then she was kissing him again, and Luka could no longer remember his own name.
