Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time that they’d met, Luka was swept right off his feet like that time when he was a little boy and didn’t heed the warnings of his mother – which ended with him planted face down into the sand after a particularly large wave crashed the coast.

She was an awkward, bubbly, cute little ball of nervous energy and that quite endeared her to him, but what sealed the deal was her kindness, her bravery, and selflessness – and Luka knew that, even though he had just met her, he had fallen hard.

But she was already in love with another boy (head-over-heels, a blubbery mess of incoherent words, somewhat stubbornly – and obsessively – in love with that boy), so he quietly pulled back. He told her how he felt, without trying to pressure her into anything, because he believed that she deserved to know, but he wasn’t actively trying to achieve anything. He settled for being her close friend and, sure, if by any chance they ended up within a touching distance from each other, or if she blushed because of something he said or did, he felt happy - and, well, it certainly appealed to his ego.

But he wasn’t dumb. He knew that what she had felt for him at that time was just a minor crush, and that given the slightest chance she’d have jumped right into Adrien’s arms, and Luka wasn’t about to let his heart be played with and then broken like that. He wouldn’t settle for being her second choice. He’d much rather be her friend.

When she needed him, he was always there for her – no questions asked. Luka felt it in his soul that there were things haunting Marinette and tiring her day in and day out. Things she couldn’t tell anyone, himself included. But if just being there for her - as moral support and a listener, a shoulder to cry on and arms to make her feel safe and anchored – would help ease the pain and heartbreak she felt just a little, Luka would gladly take the role of the one she could always lean on.

Naturally, he was there to support her regarding all things Adrien as well.

He’d be lying if he said that didn’t hurt him at all – in her mindlessness she had hurt him several times, but Luka knew she hadn’t done it on purpose. He could see how horrible she felt afterwards, so he always gave it his all to convince her that there were no harsh feelings.

In the end, he knew what he had signed up for – he had made his bed and he was going to lie in it, no matter the bed being littered with pins and thorns.

Then Kagami and Adrien became an official couple. Marinette was breaking from the inside, he knew (he’d witnessed it, he’d held her while she was crying about that and all the things she could never tell anyone about – not even him – how he wished he could be allowed to tell her that he already knew). She kept a brave face though, and she’d honestly tried to get over it, because, all things considered, she was selfless, and her friends’ happiness was more important to her than her own.

Luka loved that about her as much as he hated it.

(Luka loved that about himself as much as he hated it.)

He didn’t try to make a move on her afterwards, though. He’d played her her song, to let her know that he was there, and she was safe, and she was loved, but he couldn’t find it in him to put either of them through something meant to fall apart like a house of cards.

He would not be her second choice. He would not be her rebound.

He would be her friend.

That was what she needed now, more than anything – the support of her friends, the knowledge that she was not alone, the reassurance that she was allowed to feel and do everything that an ordinary teenager did.

Years had passed with the two of them in that kind of relationship. Years had passed, and she’d taken to calling him her “best friend”. Years had passed and Luka had loved, had hurt, had been hurt in return.

Years had passed and the moment she first walked into his life had never left his mind.

He didn’t know how to feel about that – time had done nothing but bury his feelings deeper inside his chest, without changing them at all.

(Luka imagined his love for Marinette as a beautiful cave that was submerged by the sea but never changed its shape, and its beauty never faded.)

It didn’t hurt when she was seeing other guys. It didn’t hurt when she was introducing him as one of her most cherished friends (she was one of his dearest friends as well), and the thought of the two of them never being more than what they were didn’t create a wound in his heart that would never heal.

It was just that, from time to time, he’d dream about kissing her and feel elated. She’d wake up in his arms after a sleepover and he’d gaze at her sleeping face and feel so content, like this - them wrapped up in each other without a care in the world – felt right. She’d send him a look or a touch, or anything that whispered “that’s not something that friends do” and he’d feel his chest constrict, in pain and confusion, and he’d wonder if Marinette felt the same – if she, too, was dancing on the edge of something, but was too afraid to take a step forward because she didn’t know if Luka was on the same page.

He wished the timing had been perfect the moment they’d met.

Like this, he didn’t know if what they were was precisely defined, or if they were both unsure and confused, or if both of them knew what they wanted, and it wasn’t what they had, but were too afraid to show it.

So he would be her friend.

For now, for forever, for however long she wanted him.

One day, he believed, he would finally get a clear answer on what his role in her life was. Time would tell.

(Time was his greatest ally after all.)

Chapter Text

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

Luka shifted in his seat on the make-shift couch he and Juleka had made to better accommodate their friends, when they came over and everyone wanted to sit on the Liberty's deck. Currently, the couch was occupied by a humming Rose that was curled over the couch's arm, Mylene and Ivan that were cuddling and mostly napping, Marinette who was sketching away in her newly bought sketchbook, and Luka, who seemed content to only hold onto his guitar with his eyes closed, presumably listening to the quiet little sounds his friends were making.

Juleka was left to sit on the chair they had lying around on the deck. Adding one more person to the couch wouldn’t be impossible, but it would get rather crowded. That would defeat the purpose of making sure everyone felt as comfortable as possible while they were over at everyone’s favorite houseboat.

Seeing as she was sitting apart from the others, Juleka could see everything: the adorable way Rose's head hung from the arm of the couch; the slow rising and falling of Ivan's chest which indicated that he had indeed fallen asleep, which must have both amused and endeared Mylene - she was wearing a rather fond smile on her face, while her hand was on Ivan’s chest; and, from the position she was in, Juleka could clearly see…

“You’re playing with each other’s hands again.”

That seemed to shake everyone from their daze. Rose’s head shut upwards, no doubt causing a sudden bout of queasiness, and Mylene let out an “oh, my” which woke Ivan from his earlier nap. Luka and Marinette both froze on the spot, faces as red as the nail polish currently adorning Marinette’s nails (courtesy of Luka, no less), and hands that were absentmindedly playing with each other pulled back violently from their place in between the two of them.

This was far from the first time Juleka (far from the first time anyone) had seen them holding hands, or drawing circles on them, or pressing them together – anything just as long as they were touching. It was probably far from the last time too. They were called out on it already, and they were embarrassed about it, and they swore it was just an accident, that it wouldn't happen again – and then someone would inevitably catch them playing with each other's hands again, and the circle would start over.

It’s not that Juleka thought they were doing it on purpose and then lying about it. She honestly believed them when they said it was unintentional, except she didn’t believe it was accidental. Accidents didn’t happen over and over again like this did. No, Juleka thought, it was just that their bodies were more honest than Luka and Marinette themselves were. No one in their group of friends was blind to what was going on between them. The entire band, plus Mylene and Alya, had a bet on when they’d finally get together. Nino had compiled a playlist for when they announced their relationship at last, and Kagami admitted to thinking that she believed Marinette was more observant and braver than what the current situation would make her appear as. Adrien, too, as oblivious as he was, saw that there was something more between Luka and Marinette than just friendship, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was holding them back.

(Bless his ignorant soul, he had no idea of the amount of influence he had on the current state of the said two’s relationship.)

While Marinette was stuttering out excuses, and Luka was smiling placatory and nodding along, Juleka paid close attention to their body language and expressions. Luka’s smile was obviously fake, tired and somewhat sad, and he was clinging onto his guitar like he was holding on for dear life with the hand that was further away from Marinette. Marinette, meanwhile, was looking into the ground the entire time, face twisted in a sad and self-accusatory expression, and the hand that was holding Luka’s just a few moments ago was opening and closing randomly, as if too aware of the emptiness, of the lack of steadiness and warmth Luka’s hand had given her.

Juleka felt bad for calling them out. She should have just let them do what naturally came to both of them – both were very tactile people, and they mostly showed their affection that way. Maybe that was why their hands, however unconsciously, kept reaching out to one another. Because of the entire past situation with Adrien, both Luka and Marinette were reluctant to swim into a territory further beyond friendship. Though it was clear that Luka’s feelings hadn’t changed, and that Marinette’s grew with each passing day, they both had insecurities that prevented them from finally putting a name, a real name to what they were, instead of lying through gritted teeth when forced to answer, “we’re just friends”.

Unwilling to let Marinette keep on forcing herself to lie, Rose nodded along innocently, adding that she, too, often subconsciously initiated physical contact with whichever friend was closest to her. Ivan and Mylene expressed their belief that some people were more tactile than others, and that Luka and Marinette both belong to the former category. Luka gratefully accepted the out they were given, although Juleka could still see the shadows of sadness covering his face. When she looked at Marinette, the girl seemed just about ready to jump out and leave, offering some lame excuse about how she forgot something important, so Juleka, not wanting this hang out to end on an awkward note, suggested they play a game where Luka would strum a few chords on his guitar and then the others would have to guess which song that was.

From the way she had subtly relaxed and stopped glancing at the exit every few seconds, Juleka had concluded that Marinette would stay, which made her mission a success.

And while the atmosphere on the Liberty was slowly starting to regain its comfortable easiness, Juleka couldn’t help but feel a little more dejected every time she would catch her brother staring longingly at Marinette, or every time Marinette would glance in his direction and then turn away guiltily, as if she wasn’t allowed to have feelings that she did; as if a heart that had been previously hurt repeatedly before choosing to change its target would be considered fickle. Juleka watched them both, her heart crying out for them to stop hurting each other and accept that the feelings they had weren’t impure, selfish or less because she used to love another and he promised to be a friend.

Guessing correctly the chords of a melancholy love song, Juleka hoped that the day when Luka’s dancing hands would freely join with Marinette’s - and they would both smile at each other, and neither would have to hide their face in shame of the feelings blooming inside their chest - would come soon, on a clear day like this one - and the song Luka would be playing would be one of joy and content.

Chapter Text

An overwhelming feeling of familiarity was what overcame Luka the moment he'd opened his eyes and looked at the girl standing in front of him.

He didn't recognize her blue eyes, though, nor the blush staining her cheeks and the awkward way she informed him that his bandmates were waiting for him. He knew about her, from the stories Juleka told of her school days – and yes, Ma-Ma-Marinette was often in them. From what he'd heard of her, he'd painted a picture of a brave, selfless girl that always had her friends' best interest in mind, but also an awkward, clumsy little lady that was prone to embarrassing herself.

Nothing he had heard about her could have prepared him for their meeting.

Because when Luka opened his eyes, and she opened her mouth, and her song started filling his ears and his heart, he'd remembered. Not everything. Not memories, but something closer to feelings, emotions. Luka remembered that he had known her, long ago, and once before that, and once before.

(He knew he was meant to love her.)

He was never one to question if something made sense if he could feel it in his heart. And right now, he could feel so many things, he'd felt more than a little light-headed, trying not to show it by doing what he did best – playing his guitar; listening to people's hearts.

She was hesitant to approach him at first, slightly wounded by his miscalculated teasing (he'd only been a bit too giddy and tried to cover it up), but slowly, she approached him – Luka wondered if she sensed she could trust him, just as he felt he could trust her – and Luka started strumming gentle melodies on his guitar, wanting nothing more than to put her heart at ease.

(Maybe he wanted her to warm up to him as well.)

She mostly avoided looking at him, but in those short (precious) moments when she'd glance his way and he'd catch her eyes, he could see worlds swirling inside them, worlds so beautiful and magical, but also so, so tragic. He saw in her someone carrying the weight of the entire world when she could barely hold the burden of being herself. Still, he also saw a great sense of responsibility, and Luka knew that she might have been too young to be chosen (for what, at that point, he still wasn't sure), but she was the one.

She was the one for him as well.

Luka felt a sharp warning stabbing him through his heart, making its point clear – you are not hers.

He recognized Marinette's – he was reluctant to say – soulmate just as easily; it was the model from their class Juleka had mentioned before. To Luka, Adrien's song sounded like the storm that would take Luka's everything, and he couldn't even fight against it; those two were meant to be, and him, the third wheel in this story of destiny, was a cosmic mistake, someone who wasn't supposed to be where he was, wasn't supposed to love who he did, wasn't allowed to stand in between Creation and Destruction, two parts of a whole, forever intertwined.

He was the accident of the gods, and he had to suffer the punishment for that.

(Was that fair? Was that something he had to accept?)

Like a tidal wave, despair and sadness and hopelessness crashed over him, telling him how all of the ones who were "him" before had felt. His chest constricted, his eyes burned, and it took everything in him to hold all of those emotions in; nobody else knew, nobody else could understand, no one would believe. He buried the past (the other lifetimes, parallel universes, whatever this was) deep beneath layers and layers of his sensible soul, and swore he'd never talk about it to anyone. He'd keep to himself all the things he (somehow) knew about.

He'd stifle the scream threatening to tear through his lungs.

But even with the onslaught of all the painful and terrifying emotions that churned inside his gut, there was one more feeling, just like in Pandora's box, that flowed into his being as suddenly and as violently as all the negative ones before it.

That was determination.

Luka knew, then and there, that however much pain he'd have to take, he would fight. He would fight to break the cycle and make Marinette fall in love with him, not the boy, the man, the soul that had been taking her soul away from Luka's for centuries.

(Leaving him burnt and broken, destroyed by the same fate that allowed their souls to meet over and over and over again.)

If that was what it took, Luka would make the gods mad. He would face against them and he wouldn't give up – wouldn't simply accept his fate and comply with the expectations the universe had for him.

The unfortunate, cursed boy, made to feel despair for all eternity.

(That wasn't fair. He would not accept that.)

Luka had no intention to force Marinette into anything, though. He wouldn't fight against Adrien, either – if Marinette's feelings were such, he'd readily support her relationship with Adrien; but only if she wanted that, if that made her happy, not because some higher force up above decided to play with puny humans' hearts.

But if it so happened that Marinette's heart opened up to him, even if it was only a crack, that would be when Luka would fight. Teeth and claws and raw heart digging through all the barriers built up around her heart, so his soul could finally feel what it was like, joining with the one you weren't meant to love, but only loved more for that fact. If he could be given the slightest chance, Luka would bare his everything to her, his love, his pain, his desperate wish to feel loved by her just once.

His soul was telling him that that truly would be enough – if it could spend just one lifetime with her soul, it'd consider that all of the others where it repeatedly lost her and repeatedly got hurt were worth it. Her love was worth it.

After Luka had been given the power of the Snake and he'd remembered a little bit more, he realized why he seemed to be the only one aware of all of their pasts. The power, after all, was to rewind time, and Luka felt that's what his soul has been doing all these past lifetimes – trying and trying and trying again to change the end result, to "fix" the timeline.

His soul was repeatedly using Second Chances to win Marinette's soul over.

There was no question why in his mind. She was worth it. Luka knew that every time he saw her – Marinette was worth it. It repeated in his head like some sort of mantra day and night, when he would see her, and even when she wasn't there. Marinette, oh, Marinette – Marinette was worth it.

The beautiful Goddess of Creation, the one who saved everyone without ever expecting to be saved in return.

But Luka knew, he finally realized that was his role – to always save her. That was probably what his soul started as – a shield to protect the ultimate creator. Somewhere along the line, its feelings grew from protective to something more. But his soul was created because of hers. Everything in him sang that without her, there would be no them, the cursed ones that would willingly spend all of their lifetimes chasing after a light that might never shine on them.

"No matter," the soul would say. "As long as the light was still there, I would still be there. But maybe, oh maybe, if I could feel its warmth once…"

Luka fell asleep every night to the sound of his soul singing a heartbreaking, but still hopeful, song of love.

Chapter Text

"She really bullied you like that?" Marinette laughed while clutching the handle of her steaming cup of coffee.

"I wouldn't call it bullying, just acting like almost any little sister would act towards her older brother," Luka chuckled, taking a sip of his still hot chamomile tea. Marinette winced, but apparently, Luka liked drinking hot things. "Anyway yeah, one time she told me I would never have a relationship, so I might as well marry my guitar since I 'love her so much'," Luka added after he let the burning liquid almost scorch his tongue, then grinned. "Well, I guess she was right in a way, because both of my exes have broken up with me because I 'spent more time with my guitar than them'. What can I say, there's no standing between me and the first love of my life," Luka finished, with a dramatic sigh, and even though he'd been doing it for a while now – being a lot more open, and teasing, and playful – Marinette still couldn't quite get used to it, but not in a bad way. Getting to know more sides to Luka was thrilling to her, and the more time they spent together, the more she found that…

Well, the more she realized that she liked him. A lot.

"Oh?" Marinette tried to tease back, putting her hand over her heart and then turning what she hoped was a teasing, seductive look his way, deciding to do something that might take this outing between "two friends" where no other get-togethers have taken them.

"A man such as yourself, having only two exes? How odd," she said, raising a cheeky eyebrow at him, and Luka willingly continued playing along.

(He was delighted, really.)

"That is the kind of man I am, Marinette," he sighed solemnly. "When I love, I don't forget easily."

He risked a glance at her to see if he took it too far, if he was crossing over the boundaries they had silently set, but the look on Marinette's face seemed encouraging, and a small part of Luka dared hope that this was it – that they were finally taking that step forward.

But before they could do that, they had to cross a bridge they were standing on the edge of since the beginning.

"How about you, Marinette? How many exes do you have?" he asked, hating that his voice trembled slightly towards the end, afraid to keep the eye contact he had with Marinette. Marinette, of course, understood the question right away, and she involuntarily drew in a breath before slowly releasing it, letting the tension leave her body.

They weren't thinking of Adrien. Both of them knew and both of them remembered that nothing ever became of it – Luka remembered Marinette's tears and her quiet suffering, and the smiles she offered her two friends that were only barely sad. Marinette remembered a shoulder and a hand always ready to be there for her, she remembered the comfort she found in her friends, and she remembered the slow but steady way her heart had learned to love again. To love better, she might even say.

No, the one they were thinking of was Chat Noir (because the boy knew, he'd known almost since the moment that they've met), and Marinette could understand why Luka had his doubts. Chat's love for His Lady was known to everyone in Paris; they've kissed and been caught doing it twice and, even though the first time was to save him and the second time she didn't even remember, those kisses did happen, and they couldn't – they shouldn't be simply brushed off.

"Zero," Marinette answered honestly, shyly, and Luka did look slightly taken aback, but he had no reason to believe that Marinette was lying to him.

"Why?" he asked, in a soft voice both encouraging and genuinely curious, and Marinette had to smile at the return of the protective, sensitive side of him.

"Partly, it was because we couldn't know each other's identities. Partly it was because… well… because I had another boy on my mind then," Marinette sighed. "Mostly, though, was for a reason I only recently came to understand."

Luka raised his brow, encouraging her to continue.

Marinette bit her lip.

"I don't… I don't think I was actually ready for a relationship, then. I had this, I know now when I look back on it, obsessive crush on a boy who tried hard to be my friend, and because of that stupid crush I was making it very difficult for him," Marinette huffed, and Luka had to chuckle at her acknowledgment. "When I finally let go of that, I felt freed, like I, I don't know, like I was back to being myself, like the entirety of me belonged to myself again, and it just… felt so good."

The soft smile Luka sent her made Marinette feel very warm and tingly on the inside, and she was reminded of one more reason why she and Chat never became more than partners in fighting crime.

"There's… one more reason, actually."

Marinette blushed, and looked down at her hands, where she started playing with her fingernails.

"Around the time I… was getting over Adrien, it seemed like Chat was moving on from me, too. And, well, even if he didn't end up doing that, well… He would have kind of… Missed his chance again."

She said that in such a squeaky, such an "old Marinette way", that she barely held back from punching herself. But Luka was looking at her with such a soft smile on his face, eyes crinkling from happiness, that she decided that the manner in which she said that wasn't important because he understood, they were on the edge of admitting everything, and Marinette felt so happy she started feeling light-headed as well.

Leaning down towards her, Luka changed his expression from "hopelessly in love" to "ready to tease the girl he liked". Marinette shivered. She hated how good that looked on him.

"So," he started, his hand slowly making its way across the table, inching closer to Marinette's, and she swore to Tikki and the other kwamis that this boy was not good for her health.

(Oh but he was. He was so good for her.)

"What kind of a guy caught your attention and managed to pull it away from the Chat Noir, one of Paris' favorite superheroes?" Luka smirked, and Marinette spluttered.

"You want me to describe him?" she almost shrieked, and then hysterically laughed, but Luka kept his confident smirk on his face, and damn it all if she wasn't going to wipe that thing off his face.

"Fine," she accepted, leaned back against her chair, and put on a confident smile herself. "He's very calm and mature. He knows how to handle difficult situations and has the patience of a saint – I'll admit to thinking his mother has more than her fair share of influence on that," she joked, and Luka snorted but didn't disagree. Marinette continued.

"He's very good with people and though he may seem like a loner at first, he is quite adept at social situations. What's more important, though, is that he has a group of people he would do anything for – I don't think dying is out of the question, either, which makes me a little annoyed," she sent a pointed look his way, and Luka just shrugged, like telling her 'it is how you say and both of us know there's no changing that, plus, you're the same', so Marinette had to satisfy herself with glaring at him for just a moment longer, before she continued with her monolog, ready to take things to the next level.

"He's really hot," Marinette said, and Luka choked on the sip of tea he was taking, "but he's also really pretty too, and he's handsome. It's unfair."

Marinette sent him a look that made his cheeks turn darker than they already were, and satisfied with her accomplishment, Marinette went into her final phase of the attack, face turning soft and adoring, eyes looking not at him, but the table, yet looking through the table and reminiscing about all the times Luka made her fall for him.

"He's so soft – like, simply in the way he is, and his presence alone is comforting and soothing, even when he makes my heart beat ten times the normal rate."

Luka looked at her, face almost twisted in pain from the amount of love washing over him at that moment, but Marinette wasn't looking at him, so she didn't notice that.

"He's gentle and patient with me, guiding me in a quiet, unassuming way, always careful of not crossing the line and imposing himself on me. He's also really funny and a tease, and he makes me laugh, and he lets me play along, and he challenges me with that cocky eyebrow raise of his, and I love that, I love both the way he looks like when he wins, and when I beat him in his own game."

Both of their breaths are getting shorter now, but Marinette was not stopping, she couldn't stop; if she were given all the time in this world she still wouldn't be able to name all the reasons why she loved him.

She loved him.

She was both scared and thrilled by the fact that she knew what she felt wasn't a crush, or a like, not even a strong like; no, she loved him, she loved Luka, and now her eyes were watering and his hand was immediately on hers and oh – she loved this about him too, and how he chose this café because it was her favorite, and how he knows what to order for her, and how he never holds it against her when she's late.

"He's attentive and observant, he does everything he can to make me happy, he's always there for me, he lets me see his vulnerable side, he holds me like I'm precious, his kisses on my hair are one of my favorite things ever, and I want him to kiss me in other places, too," Marinette started rambling by now, and Luka was getting more and more embarrassed with each passing second, but he also wanted to sweep her right off that chair and twirl her around in his arms before he crushed her to him-

"- and I love the way his fingers move over his guitar, I love that he's so passionate about music, that he encourages me to be passionate about my designs – he's my inspiration, and I know I'm his muse – and I love how we can exist as two independent people and not depend on each other but we can still support each other, and I love how he lets me ramble on like this without interrupting me even though I'm embarrassing him in front of the whole café, oh my god," Marinette turned beet red, and a few customers that were looking at them looked away, all heartily cheering for this adorable young couple, "and I think he lo- he likes me too, but it hasn't been mentioned in a long while now, so that's making me a little scared, so I really, really need this guy to tell me what he's thinking right now because I swear I might collapse from anxiety if I have to wait on it."

Marinette finished her speech, face almost impossibly red, and Luka sat across her, stunned, mouth hanging open. When he snapped out of his daze he remembered what she had asked of him, so he cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, huffed to get out at least a little bit of tension out of his chest, and gave her his response.

"The guy thinks we should get out of the coffee shop where everyone is staring at us and take a walk somewhere more private," he replied, and Marinette sharply nodded her head, and soon, they were paying their bills and exiting a café throughout which muttered words of 'Good luck!' could be heard.

"So," Luka said, after a prolonged period of silence during which they walked along the lesser-visited parts of the Seine, and Marinette stiffened before she relaxed and let her voice join his.

"So."

"I lo-like you," Luka said, thinking that even though he felt it, it was way too early to say it.

"And I l-like you", Marinette replied, the same reasoning going through her head as her soon-to-be sweetheart's.

Oh dear, they were going to be sweethearts!

"That… Does that mean that we're dating now?" Luka asked hesitantly, hopefully, and while looking straight ahead and turning Ladybug's costume red, Marinette nodded, sharply, and Luka twisted his head away from Marinette's direction, slapping a hand over his mouth, feeling like if he didn't do it, an inhuman sound would come out of him.

"Okay."

"Okay."

They walked a few more moments in silence before Luka found his courage.

"Can I hold your ha-"

"Yes!" Marinette didn't let him finish, grabbing his hand right away, and Luka was sure he looked like a lobster right then, that's how hot he'd felt.

Some more moments of silence passed before Marinette quietly started talking.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me until now, and for everything I know you'll do in the future as well."

She finally turned to face Luka and, even though her cheeks were still a little red, she didn't feel the strong urge to bury herself in a hole anymore, and for that, she was rewarded with the sight of Luka Couffaine, just as red in the face as her (maybe even more), looking at her with such adoring eyes she had to wonder how she never saw that look until now. She also berated herself for it.

Bringing the hand he was holding to his lips, never taking his eyes away from hers, Luka reverently kissed Marinette's hand, and then he, too, quietly thanked her for the same thing.

Marinette couldn't look away from the boy standing in front of her, looking at him in awe, and though a part of her whispered that it still might be too early, most of her didn't care about what that voice had to say.

"Luka, can we kiss?" she asked shyly, and though Luka's first reaction was shock, his expression immediately turned soft, and while bringing his finger to caress Marinette's cheek, he shyly uttered, 'yes'.

Marinette had died and gone to heaven, she concluded; but the heart that was thumping so hard against her ribcage, it felt like it was going to pull her forward with it, was all the evidence she needed that she wasn't dead. This was real, and she was about to kiss Luka Couffaine.

Okay. One more obstacle on her way and she would get everything she's been dreaming about for the past few months.

Oh, dear. This was going to be embarrassing.

"Um, Luka?" she called out to him hesitantly, and a kiss on her fingertips was enough of an incentive to keep going,

"Oh god, this is going to be really embarrassing for me, so please don't interrupt me, okay?"

After she got an affirmative nod, Marinette steeled herself.

"I've never kissed before. Well," she winced, "technically I guess I did, but I didn't really, and anyway I don't count those, or if I do count them I count them as Ladybug's, not Marinette's…"

Marinette felt she was on the edge of going into another one of her rumbles, but then she felt a reassuring squeeze, and she looked up to see Luka wearing his encouraging smile, so she took a deep breath, ground herself and continued talking.

"I'm– I'm a big romantic at heart," she said, and Luka chuckled, for which he was rewarded with a playful shove. "Yes, yes, very funny. Anyway. I really like you," she said, this time without stammering, "and I know it might sound stupid and you might accuse me of watching too many movies, but, I… I want this kiss to be special. I want this kiss to be like in the movies," Marinette finished shyly, and she looked up to see Luka's reaction, only to be met with – and she should have known – love and adoration.

"Tell me everything you want, Marinette," Luka kissed the palm he was holding, "and I'll do it without hesitation."

Marinette shivered, locking her eyes with Luka in an intense gaze.

"Let me kiss your cheek first."

Luka obliged, no questions asked, and Marinette stood up on her toes while pulling him down towards her to plant a soft, but lasting kiss on his cheek, and when she pulled away she let her lips drag across his skin for a bit, before standing back down, Luka subconsciously chasing after her.

"What else?" he asked in a breathy voice, and Marinette planted her hands against his chest to stabilize herself.

"Do the same thing to me."

Luka leaned down, his lips a breath away from hers, and even though she actually wouldn't be disappointed if he kissed her now, Luka surprised her by gently brushing his nose against her own, before slowly dragging it to the side and nuzzling the place on her cheek where he left a whisper of a kiss. Marinette shivered, closing her eyes, and leaned her head away just so that Luka's nose brushed against her skin down to her jaw, where he left a firmer kiss, and then mumbled into that spot, 'anything else?'.

Marinette felt like combusting.

"My forehead," she replied.

This time, Luka dragged his lips against her skin and she could feel the smile on his face, which made her smile in return. After leaving a rather sound kiss on her forehead, Luka leaned his own against hers, eyes closed, lips spread into a wide smile, before asking, 'Nose?'.

"Yes, please," she sighed, and Luka first kissed the top of her nose slightly, before nipping at it just a bit, and Marinette lost it. Her knees buckled but Luka held her by the waist, chuckling and holding her tight against himself.

"Think it's time for that kiss now?" he whispered in her ear, and of course, dragged his lip along it, and the only thing Marinette could do was surrender herself to the greatest pleasure she had experienced in her life so far.

Chapter Text

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” Marinette said, panic evident not only in her voice but in her posture and expression as well. Her eyes were blown-wide, unfocused, she was hunching over and both of her hands were furiously pulling at her hair. Luka stood next to her, arms raised in a placating manner, but at a reasonable distance due to the earlier case of him trying to calm her down by hugging her and her waving her arms around, eventually hitting him almost squarely in the eye.

“Marinette, sweetheart, please calm down,” Luka tried again, even though he knew his words would have no effect on his girlfriend.

“He’s two weeks early, Luka!” Marinette yelled, waving her arms in front of her face to emphasize her statement, only creating a greater obstacle for her boyfriend to overcome in order to offer her his hug.

“Mari, love, these things happen,” Luka answered, hands up in the air as if saying he’s surrendering, all the while taking a chance and coming closer to his very, very distressed girlfriend. Marinette finally stopped herself from moving around long enough to collapse into Luka’s arms, adrenaline leaving her body. She was now trembling, frightened and confused and not yet ready for the baby to come.

“We haven’t even prepared everything! I’m not finished with painting the little details in his room! Oh, now he probably won’t even be able to enter it because of the fresh paint- but wait, what if he won’t be allowed to come home with us? What if there’s something wrong with him? What if he’s born too tiny and they keep him in the hospital for observations and they don’t allow us to take him back home-“

Marinette fell into her usual anxiety-induced rambling, and Luka waited until it slowed down so he could interrupt her and offer her more calming and supportive words, in the meantime holding Marinette tight and peppering small kisses on the top of her head. When Marinette finally took a break so she could take a breath, Luka turned her around in his arms, put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly.

"Marinette, please, take deep breaths. Look at me," he said, and Marinette listened, reaching for the comfort his soothing voice offered, and she brought her eyes to his own. She noticed that he, too, was worried, but he was hiding it for her sake, and that made her heart hurt a bit, but she couldn't help it – she was terrified.

Sliding his hands from her shoulders up to her cheeks, he cupped her face and then laid his forehead against hers, grounding her to him. Slowly, Marinette let herself close her eyes, and she matched her breathing to Luka's. Breathe in, breathe out, repeat that for a few times; she followed the technique that both of them used on each other when the other was too stressed or scared to calm down. Marinette felt her pulse slow down, felt her breaths become calmer, and then she felt Luka kiss her forehead before he pulled away so he could give her an encouraging smile.

“Nothing is going to happen to your little brother, I promise," he said, and even though Marinette knew it wasn't on him to promise her something like that, she felt a little bit encouraged. Still, concerns were running through her head, and she felt she had to voice them out or she would go back to her previous state.

“But Maman is old – well I mean, old for someone pregnant. And that itself is a risk on both the mother and the baby. I know that all the tests we've run so far have shown nothing suspicious, but I'm still…”, she bit her lip. “He’s two weeks early, Luka,” she repeated her statement, and Luka sighed before wrapping Marinette up in a tight hug.

“All your concerns are valid, Marinette. There are bigger risks during pregnancy the older the woman is, but your mother has been really careful, you know that. She regularly went to her check-ups, and she never did anything that could endanger the baby. You know how your dad was, he didn’t let her do anything even slightly more strenuous than absolutely necessary – you remember that time when your mom finally snapped and hit him over the head with a bag of flour?” Luka said, still amused by the situation he had witnessed, and his heart felt a lot lighter when he felt a chuckle traveling through his chest.

“She was annoyed that he treated her like she was made of glass," Marinette agreed, and then changed her position so that her head was now leaning on one side against Luka's chest, rather than being buried in it. She sighed and then groaned, and when she started lightly hitting against Luka's chest, he allowed himself to laugh and believe that, if not her worries, then at least her panic was erased. "Ugh, I just want all of this to be done and over with, so we could take my little brother home and I could look at him all day and coddle him and spoil him rotten!” she exclaimed, and Luka raised an amused eyebrow at that.

“You want all of this to be done and over with? Imagine how your mom feels.”

Both of them swore they could hear a scream somewhere down the hall, but there was no way of telling which room the scream could be heard from. It’s not like screams were a rare occurrence in this hall anyway.

Marinette winced, squeezing her hand over her uterus a bit as if simply thinking about it made her feel pain, and then she sighed, and without really thinking about it murmured, "Well, I'm going to have to go through that someday, anyway," which caused both of them to freeze, because one, neither wanted that to happen with anybody other than the person next to them at the moment, but two, they were still teenagers and it was way too early to be thinking about that, but three, like hell was Marinette going to let Luka make babies with some other girl and there was no way Luka would allow anyone else to be the father of Marinette’s children.

Oh, but four, what if the other person didn’t feel like that? Because, well, they were teenagers, and they’ve only been dating for less than a year, and there was no guarantee this was forever however much Luka/Marinette wanted it to be, and oh god did Marinette just scare Luka away and was Luka supposed to say something to reassure Marinette that – what, that he was okay with that? But what if she didn’t have him in the picture as the father – oh god as a father – and now they were both kind of hyperventilating in each other’s arms, scared to let go because this was the kind of situation that had no easy way out. Luckily, they were relieved of that painful talk (postponed for later, much, much later) when a nurse approached them, a huge smile on her face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng? Your little brother is here.”

Luka didn’t meet the little fellow yet but he already loved him.

With an exhale that was half a sob, half a laugh, Marinette pulled herself away from Luka but still held onto his hands, shaking. She turned to him, tears in her eyes, a huge smile on her face, mirroring the smile on Luka’s, and with a gasping voice, that Luka barely heard, she sighed out, “He’s here!”, wonder and delight and confusion seeping out of her like a stream.

Luka smiled at her, he himself reasonably excited, and with a kiss on her hand, her forehead and her mouth, asked, “Want to go meet the little guy?”

Marinette pulled his hand while running as an answer and Luka laughed all the way to the hospital room.

Chapter Text

“Careful, we don’t want you to burn your fingers.”

“Luka, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“No one claimed otherwise, Mari.”

Clucking her tongue at him, Marinette went back to trying to start a fire in the hearth, failing for the seventh time, growing increasingly agitated. She was the baker’s daughter. She should be able to start a fire. Yet, there they were, both leaning against the fireplace, Luka slightly off to the side (after offering to help after the third failed attempt, which only managed to set Marinette on fire), and there was still no sign of flames.

She should have just admitted she’d never tried to light a fire in her life (Papa was just too protective!).

But how could Marinette admit that she, the – baker’s – daughter – couldn’t light a fire when Luka, a literal child of the sea (he lived in a fricking houseboat for the majority of his life!), said he could do it in five different ways!

(Luka was just joking with her. He only wanted to see the adorable annoyed pout on her face. He could actually only light a fire in three ways.)

Huffing, Marinette wiped the sweat off her face – created by her intense concentration and wasted efforts, not the goddamn fire – and tried again. She couldn’t understand what the problem was; she was easily able to light the matches up, but then when she’d throw them into the kindling, no flames would arise! After failed attempt number ten, and Luka’s annoyingly quiet observation, Marinette had enough of it.

“Fine,” she spat out, annoyed at admitting defeat, “I give up. I can’t do it.”

Luka quietly chuckled then pulled her into his arms, rumbling her hair at first gently, but then messing it up on purpose, making Marinette raise her head so she could pout. When he saw that pout, Luka went in straight for the kill, leaving a loud kiss on her lips, before violently rubbing his nose against hers, which led Marinette to scrunch it up. That, in turn, delighted Luka enough to start chuckling, which “annoyed” Marinette enough for her to start tickling him, which ended in a full-out tickle war on the soft carpet in front of the fireplace that was almost left forgotten.

So maybe Marinette’s plans of spending a romantic night with her fiancé, staring at the crackling fire, sipping hot chocolate and enjoying each other’s presence were ruined, but who cared about plans when your fiancé who adored you more than anything in this world (‘and any other worlds that might exist’) kept peppering you with small, adoring kisses. Who cared when his hands caressed you in a way that let you know you were precious and cherished. Or when his nose nuzzled the juncture between your shoulder and your neck – your weak spot – and you shivered in delight and anticipation, and not from the lack of warmth.

Who needed fire when Marinette had Luka to keep her warm.

After hours and hours spent trying to prove that one loved the other more – as if was Marinette going to let Luka be the only one making their partner feel like they were the greatest thing in the universe – the two lay content on the soft carpet, covered by a woolen blanket. Luka peppered soft kisses onto Marinette’s shoulder, and Marinette semi-consciously caressed the arm draped across her waist. The other half of her mind, though, was focused on the hearth in front of her. It lay there quietly, not a spark in sight, and Marinette’s annoyance from before had fully woken up. She stared the fireplace down, and it seemed like it was staring right back at her, mocking her and making fun of her.

“Luka,” Marinette said, sharply, and if Luka noticed, he didn’t pay any mind to it.

“Hmm?” he replied sleepily, too busy dragging his nose across his fiancée’s soft skin.

“What was the problem? Why didn’t the fire start? I could swear I did everything right.”

Sighing, Luka pulled away from Marinette, and she turned around in his arms, a little confused by the look on his face. Luka, on the other hand, was preparing for the slaughter about to be committed, where he was the victim and his lovely bride-to-be the perpetrator. He looked her directly in the eyes, daring himself not to flinch.

“The wood was wet.”

“…What?”

“…The wood was wet,” Luka repeated, quietly this time, and the courage he had gathered during those few seconds of silence was leaving him in bouts. Marinette slowly narrowed her eyes, then raised herself upright, before uttering, in the sharpest, most ominous voice she possessed-

“Luka Couffaine Dupain Cheng.”

To die at the hands of the woman you love might not be so bad, Luka reasoned.

Chapter Text

“Not that I don’t enjoy what you’re doing, but isn’t my skin worse than a paper when it comes to drawing?” Luka chuckled, laying on his stomach on Liberty’s deck, enjoying the pleasant weather, shirtless – something Marinette wasted no time taking advantage of.

“Not at all, your skin is very smooth, my markers glide easily over it,” Marinette replied, proving her point by dragging a long red line down her boyfriend’s back. She smirked, satisfied when Luka shivered, and then returned to drawing – or rather, doodling – on his skin.

Considering Marinette was over at The Liberty quite often since they started dating, Luka kept a stash of all sorts of markers, pencils and pens, some other tools needed for drawing, and a sketchbook for when Marinette forgot her own. That meant more to Marinette than she could properly express with words, so she often left him gifts in the form of her drawings. Those drawings often included him playing his guitar, him meditating, Kitty Section’s rehearsals, his profile, him laughing, his eyes, the muscles on his back that would stretch whenever he worked on something a little more strenuous…

Well. It was him that bought her that sketchbook. She couldn’t be blamed for the fact it was full of drawings of him.

Also, he was her boyfriend and she loved him very much. And she found him very, very attractive.

Especially his back.

Dear god, his back.

Part of the reason why Marinette spent so much time on The Liberty now that the weather was warmer was exactly the chance to see Luka shirtless without it being too weird or having any sort of consequences. Well. Mostly without having consequences.

She was a hormonal sixteen-year-old girl, thank you very much. There were Thoughts involved.

(Not that she ever admitted that to anyone.)

The majority of her fascination with his back was purely aesthetic, though. Simply put, it was beautiful. His skin was smooth and tanned, and considering he grew up on a houseboat, one of those things was expected, the other, not so much. Marinette didn't understand how his skin managed to stay smooth even when it has been exposed to the sun and the wind for years. Must be genetics. Juleka had great skin too.

The muscles that Marinette used to be able to only make out through the clothes he was wearing were now (very often) in full view, and she had a lot of opportunities to admire them. They weren't as obvious as the muscles of some other guys – say, Kim, for example – but they were beautiful in their subtlety.

(The entirety of Luka seemed to be defined in that word.)

His back was lean, but his muscles were still defined, and Marinette was not ashamed to say that she often used Luka's back for anatomy practices. In the beginning, she only dared look from afar, but after Luka caught her staring several times (she was very much not a subtle person), he simply chuckled, and, with cheeks that were red, but not as red a Marinette’s, asked her if she wanted a closer look.

After a lot of stammering and a million promises that she was not a pervert, that she was simply observing from an artist’s point of view (liar liar pants on fire), and after Luka’s kind encouragement (and knowing smiles), Marinette graduated from admiring from a distance to drooling at from up close.

His naked skin was just centimeters away from her, and she could smell its scent, and the temptation to touch it grew stronger and stronger and stronger-

She gave in.

Luka let out a gasp.

Marinette jumped away as if burned while apologizing.

(She also replayed the gasp a million times in her head and saved it in her long-term memory.)

Then they were back to stammering and apologies and understanding (if a bit embarrassed just as much as smug and pleased) smiles, and she miraculously got Luka’s permission to touch his bare back.

Well. Maybe not miraculous. He was a hormonal teen just like her.

(They were dating! This was perfectly fine!)

The first time Marinette slid her hand down the curve of his spine they both let out sounds they would deny ever making.

Since then, quite some time had passed, and they both had gotten used to the contact; to Marinette tracing every dip, curve, and muscle and then trying to pen that perfection down, to Luka humming softly and going along Marinette’s requests…

By the time Marinette had asked to draw on his skin, they were both very much dependent on that contact.

"What are you drawing over there, anyway?" Luka asked after a long period of content silence, and Marinette raised herself from the position she was in (practically sitting on Luka's lower back, knees on either of his sides) and shrugged, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

“Nothing defined, really. Just some doodles.”

“It would be a shame if you drew something beautiful – it’d be washed away.”

“I would take pictures of it, silly.”

“It still wouldn’t be the same,” Luka huffed. “All of your works, even the ones you don’t think are anything special, are masterpieces and they deserve to be preserved for eternity,” he said, somewhat dramatically, then chuckled when Marinette lightly slapped his shoulder while giggling.

“Sap.”

Luka shifted so he could look at Marinette.

“Only for you,” he lovingly whispered, and Marinette smiled softly at him, before leaning down to leave an adoring kiss on his forehead.

“You big, beautiful softie,” she teased.

“You love me,” Luka replied with a grin.

“I love you,” Marinette agreed.

Luka shifted even more on the makeshift couch he was laying on so now his front was facing Marinette. He opened his arms, inviting her in, and she happily complied, snuggling into his right side, squashing herself between the couch and him. They lay like that for a while, Luka caressing her arm with his thumb, Marinette napping. Eventually, Luka shifted and woke Marinette, who raised her head and leaned her chin on Luka’s chest, then smiled at him and nuzzled against the skin there. He returned the smile, gently carding his hands through her hair.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice rough.

“Hey,” Marinette whispered back.

“What if I told you that the next time you doodled on my skin, I’d want that drawing to stay on my skin forever?”

Marinette jerked back, eyes wide in surprise, while Luka kept his own eyes on her, however uncertain he was feeling.

“You… You want me to design a tattoo for you?” Marinette asked, voice slightly shaking, and Luka took her right hand into his left, squeezing it gently.

“Only if you’re okay with that,” he answered (always so understanding), and then added, “It doesn’t have to be any time soon,” to further soothe Marinette’s nerves.

Marinette felt her heart fill with love for the boy lying beneath her, his soul completely bared to her, and thought of the future when beneath her would be a man, and she would be a woman, and one of many things forever connecting them would be a permanent drawing she left on his skin.

Smiling through happy tears, Marinette whispered ‘I’d love to’, and then Luka pulled her back down towards him to thank her with numerous soft kisses left on her trembling lips.

Chapter Text

Marinette realized she was in love with Luka the day he told her he was leaving Paris.

The feeling of her heart being shattered into a million pieces, like the glass shards of a fallen vase, was one she had experienced only once before. Even then, it didn't hurt this badly; the shards didn't cut her insides as thoroughly as this time. Maybe it was because she was older now, more mature, wiser; she had a better understanding of her feelings and a greater appreciation for those around her.

At least she thought she did.

At least she convinced herself she did.

It was easy with other people, after all. But Luka, oh Luka - he was always complicated. The right person who came at the wrong time and ended up being an irreplaceable friend, her pillar of support, and the keeper of her secrets. He was the one whose shoulder she spent the most time crying on, but he was also the one who made her laugh numerous times, who did his best to keep her happy, or at least steady and calm. He was one of the people who motivated her. One of those that kept her going even when everything around her seemed to be falling apart.

But he was also the only one she didn’t have a clearly defined relationship with.

For all the times they've talked, about things silly or important, they never breached the subject of what exactly they were. Not even when the situation with Adrien was cleared up, and he and Marinette ended up becoming great friends, but nothing more. The timing was wrong, and Luka didn't want to take advantage of Marinette’s vulnerability; Marinette didn't want to string him along when she wasn't sure of her feelings.

They never said they were just friends. They simply offered what they believed was right at the time.

Months and years had passed since then, however. They still didn't talk about it.

That was why Marinette had to clench her teeth and fake a smile every time Luka would talk about a girl he was seeing at the moment. That’s why Luka had long ago learned to school his expression into one of pleasant neutrality when Marinette introduced someone new.

They danced around each other, and danced, and danced.

Until one of them decided he was tired and couldn’t dance anymore.

Marinette couldn’t blame Luka. He was, after all, the one who was always more vocal about his feelings for her. But the more Marinette ignored them, brushed them aside or pretended to misunderstand them for friendly pleasantries, the less Luka tried to talk about them. It hurt Marinette to see the way his face would fall sometimes, but she couldn’t allow herself to simply be with him. She was never sure of her feelings for him. She loved him, yes, but she never figured out if she was in love with him, or if he was simply someone that made her feel confident, happy and good about herself, and that’s why she felt like she had to love him.

Marinette should have known better.

She should have been able to read herself better.

Because Marinette never forced her feelings to come or grow. She felt how she felt simply because she did. There was no rhyme or reason. There was never any need for her to try and understand her feelings.

Why she dissected her feelings towards Luka to the point she couldn't discern what they were anymore, she didn't know.

But she knew one thing – Luka had had enough. Luka wanted out. Luka couldn't bear to see her anymore.

Luka knew she was Ladybug.

Luka knew she couldn’t leave Paris.

So this, him telling her, over the phone, that he was leaving, meant he was done for real. And the thought of losing him forever was what made Marinette realize that she was, in fact, in love with him.

And she was mad.

Mad because, how dare he just leave like that? How could he just leave her behind after everything they've been through, everything they shared, all the movie nights and sleepovers and cuddles and hand-holding and passive-aggressive fights because Luka couldn't ever be truly mad at her - he couldn't yell at her - he never told her upfront how her actions hurt him and how. Dare he. Be such a coward.

But Marinette was angry with herself as well – because she was just as much of a coward as he was, maybe even more. Because all those times she woke up snuggled next to him she could have kissed him and told him she wanted to wake up like that every day, but she didn’t.  Every time he let go of her hand because it was getting to the point where it wasn’t friendly anymore, she could have just grabbed it back and smiled up at him – but she didn’t.

She could have told him she knew she was hurting him and she knew about his feelings, but she was just so confused about her own. He would have listened, would have been there, he would have been patient and she would have realized she was in love with him while waking up in his arms one day.

Like this, she realized while feeling his fingers slip through hers, not knowing if they’ll ever intertwine again.

She realized while the broken parts of her heart cut through her lungs, leaving her gasping for air that only he could breathe into her.

She realized when he told her it was too late.

They promised they would keep in touch. They promised the distance would never break their friendship apart. But when they were saying goodbye at the airport, the air between them had been cold and tense, and there were so many words left unsaid hanging between them, like a noose waiting to be used, waiting to kill what they had, once and for all.

The way he hugged her was unfamiliar – no tight grip, no comforting hands, no chin on her head. Just a light, polite hug that would be acceptable between people that had only known each other for a few weeks and had barely begun their friendship.

It wasn’t them.

Marinette and Luka weren't like that.

Her throat clogged up and tears blurred her vision.

Marinette pressed herself into Luka’s shirt, hands wrapping around him like a snake wrapping around her prey, and Luka broke.

Luka never knew how to be mad at her.

He pulled her closer to him and wrapped his hands even tighter around her, crushing her, making the hug painful, but Marinette refused to pull herself away. If he was leaving, she was leaving him with this – a reminder of how her body felt pressed against his, how her hair smelled and how even though she was tiny, she was powerful, and if she so wanted she could pull him to herself and never let him go.

She heard Luka choke back a sob above her.

Marinette knew she was being cruel.

She didn't care, though, if cruelty was the only way to bring him back to her. She didn't feel bad when she saw his eyes full of questions and full of tears look down at her. She didn't care when his hands slipped from her shoulders to her hips, holding them so tightly they were sure to leave a bruise.

(She wanted them to leave a bruise.)

Marinette didn’t care when, feeling Juleka’s eyes full of disdain and anger bore into her, she used her heels (the ones Luka was the weakest against) to their full power and then pulled Luka down to her, leaving a sound kiss on his forehead, nails scratching his scalp where her hands dug possessively into his hair, and she heard a shuddering breath leave Luka.

She pulled that breath right into her lungs.

Marinette left him on that airport with hard eyes boring right into his confused ones, promising a whirlwind of emotions if he decided to come back to her.

Luka left her with a bittersweet smile that said, 'you’re torturing me’.

Marinette fell asleep that night in a shirt she stole from Luka, hugging the pillow he usually slept on tightly to her chest, to the repeat of the message he had sent her earlier that day.

“I have arrived safely.”