Archive of Our Own ^beta

He's not like the Silencer he was once before. 

No, they had been younger then, almost children and pure to the world. They were just figuring themselves out and learning it was okay to make mistakes. Never aiming to harm one another.

It's not okay to make mistakes now. They're no longer figuring themselves out. It's tragic and humorous all at once; a dark satire of their life. 

He's always been the puppet to the talent agency, for his fans and the media. His only cries for help were when he did his solo acts, sometimes bringing her in under the false name of Melody and disguised as some unknown girl who could sing and blend perfectly with him. The songs he covered were haunting to her as she took apart each verse and the pained look he gave the crowd as they screamed adoration back at him. 

And he endured it all, never turning his back on anyone or causing a fuss. Until she came and pushed him too far.

It was one simple post, enough to suggest Marinette wasn't this innocent public figure everyone loved. That she wasn't just the petite fashion designer who was once dating top model Adrien Agreste. The best friend and hopefully the soon to be girlfriend to the singer Luka Couffaine. 

Everyone started to be tricked by the liar's words, her own supposed best friend wondering if Marinette herself was lying about the slander not being true. 

And Luka found out of course.

Now he stood, facing the miraculous team with a barricade in his mind to prevent his akumatized self from knowing who they were behind the mask. 

The rain soaked his dark hoodie that was zipped to his bare chest, electric blue bangs soaking from where they peaked beneath the hood, and black ripped jeans clung tighter to his legs. 

His purple skin didn't feel the painful cold, green eyes never relenting in their search to find justice for her. And the black duct tape didn't slip from his mouth, not even when he dodged every move they had to give him and he became drenched with rain water.

He was just as strong as they were- even as an exception who had to train to build an equivalent of their strength, he was a worthy opponent and a trying one at that. He threw his own punches and swings, he did kicks and jumps like he would in the suit. But there was a slight difference now.

Luka had never been so ruthless and violent before. 

Sure, he had sometimes lost his composure when Marinette got a bad hit or blow particularly, yet there was always a way to snap him out. And now, every punch thrown was designed to hurt and damage. Debris from battle was used as weapons. Civilians were used as tools to distract the heroes. His grip was too strong, his kicks were forceful and made bones feel close to snapping. And all the heroes and all the fans were left to wonder what could’ve gotten him so mad that he was akumatized. 

It was near impossible to find the akuma until she saw his phone poking out his hoodie's pocket. 

The frozen home screen, tinged in a dark violet, was of them, him and Marinette, backstage with her getting him ready for a concert. He was always okay then, smiling up at her from his seat. He was okay, he was himself then. The picture had her leaning over the back of the salon leather chair, kissing his cheek with a smile on the curve of her lips and one hand affectionately ruffling his black and blue locks. His eyes closed while he bared all his perfect teeth dramatically in a happy grin, shoulders raised with laughter and a dimple deeply embedded in his right cheek while his button nose scrunched. 

Of course, he must've found out about Lila's slander interview while on his phone.

Pieces started to click together and she fumbled out an apology, backing away from the group and taking off near a dark corner, a gloved hand bracing the wall before she felt the brick meet her skin as she dropped transformation. 

She didn't know if it would work; he was different this time around. He didn't speak, didn't use his hand to communicate, barely gave his attention to the heroes besides to hit them back. If taunted, would stride towards them with a finger pressed to his lips, ready to pull the tape off and take their voice or make them profess only the worst of their hidden truths.

And he was so incredibly pissed. 

But she found herself walking back, back into the fray and the throes of battle. She finally came up behind him a few feet away as he jumped into a kick, hitting Chat Noir in the jaw and flipping Rena onto her back when she tried to capture him from his backside. Marinette saw the moment the barricade in his head was close to breaking as he stood over the fox, an expression of recognition then anger directed towards her as he approached closer.

God, she had seen him throw Chat and Rena like they were nothing into brick walls moments ago. The trust she had in Luka felt too immense to believe he could do the same to her. 

Either he was deserving of her faith, or she was about to be the biggest idiot ever.

She swallowed the bile in her throat, "Hi handsome," she spoke loud enough for him to hear his nickname. He turned, forgetting about the cat and fox, the former, Chat Noir, rubbing at his jaw as he looked up. His eyes darting back and forth to Silencer and her civilian form. 

"Marinette? What the hell are you doing!?"

She ignored him with a side wave of her hand close to her thigh hoping only he noticed, walking closer to the taller boy and giving him a rueful smile. He didn't move, stared after her as the anger dissipated from his features slowly. His eyes softened despite the glow of the neon violet framing his face. 

But he was never one to listen to Hawkmoth's orders to begin with; never spoke in response to his scoldings and didn't bother satisfying the man with a single word to him. She didn't know if it was just his pure hatred for the guy, or if it was to fit his designed self. Regardless, Luka was determined to set right the wrongs against Marinette now like he was then, he was just using the powers given to him as an advantage. 

"Can I touch you?" She asked, hand raised but fingers tucked to her palm. She felt his voice come through her head, startling her a little.

"Please." He sounded hurt, but his face betrayed nothing like his tone did. She held him along his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. 

"You're freezing." She frowned at his frozen skin, "You must be so cold, love."

"You're wet from the rain too."

"Not as bad as you, though." She slowly ruffled his hair, him habitually leaning down for her to do so and meet her height of less than five feet. The heroes said nothing as they thought endlessly of what was happening and where the akuma could be. Rena spinning her flute in preparation to hit him from behind. 

"Don't you dare, she knows what she's doing." Chat hissed with a grip on her wrist. 

"Like hell I'm going to listen to you after the shit he's pulled." 

"He's fucking akumatized, Rena. Let her try." Glaring at her until she relented. 

Marinette was quick to pull his face in her direction when he overheard them, "Stop frowning so much, you're too young for it."

She rubbed between his eyebrows, "They hurt you, tried to ruin you. They don't listen."

"But you do, don't you? You wouldn't let them hurt me right?" He grew rigid under her hold, barely releasing tension when her free hand traveled up his arm, to the string of his hoodie. "Handsome, I appreciate the lengths you're going through to protect me, but Silencer isn't you. You are not someone's puppet like you think you are. There's more than one way to protect me."

"I just want to keep you safe," his voice sounded like a whisper when it came through to her. 

"Luka, being in your arms- and, and you humming to me? That’s the safest place to be." Her fingers trailed along the edge of the black duct tape while his eyes softened. "I miss your blue eyes," she muttered with a glance up beneath her lashes.

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head with a gentle smile, "You didn't do anything wrong, love." She folded the corner flap of the tape. "Does this come off?" She knew it did, having seen him take other people's voices by peeling it back and letting out a chilling sound of air to force the truth out of them if he deemed them worthy to speak.

His own hands had traveled up, holding her wrists while he flinched from the inner torment of having Hawkmoth in his head. He nodded, tightening his hold on her. 

Marinette pulled the tape back slightly, pausing as she formulated her next choice of action. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course." It was just like Luka to have a soft spot for her even when akumatized. She briefly wondered if it transferred over to her being Ladybug as well when he refused to fight her. 

The tape slid off, getting caught by the wind and into Carapace's hands. He tore the flimsy black strip only to be met with nothing but ripped pieces and startled looks. 

"The akuma is still on him?" 

"What the fuck is she doing then?"

She heard their loud whispers of the akuma not being in the tape as she held his face again, making promises he would be alright as she saw his eyes water. A dueling of personalities in his head, voices overwhelming him and offering horrible suggestions consistently. His own voice, Hawkmoth's, Marinette's, Lila and Alya's on repeat, and the mixture between him and the villain that was named Silencer. 

"You want to help me feel okay?" 

His jaw clenched, "I'll punish those who refuse to listen to you."

This isn't what she wanted. She made it clear with a shake of her head. "That won't make me feel better, handsome. I'll just feel guilty for it, for having you doing my bidding for me."

"Please let me help you." Desperation leaked into his voice and he inched closer, purple and cold hands holding the back of hers to his cheeks. 

"You're sure?"

"Please." He tried to speak but nothing was audible, head hanging low as tears leaked through and his teeth grinding in frustration. 

She felt her eyes stinging, lashes seemingly heavier before she rushed her lips to his. He fell back a few steps, pulling her with him as he tried to regain his grounding. His hands left hers, one dropping down to her waist and the other raising to her neck, tremors laying beneath his strong hold. She let her hands travel down his chest to grip onto his pockets as he kissed her back in desperation. 

He didn't notice her grabbing his phone and letting it drop to the pavement with a crack, kicking it over in a gesture that was disguised as shifting closer to him to reach his height. 

Chat was quick with the cataclysm. The akuma disintegrated into black dust without the chance of purification. He met her eyes from where they peaked over Silencer's shoulder, giving her a nod and setting a hard glare to Rena as he shoved her away from them. 

"You got this?" He mouthed as he approached her from his back, picking up the broken phone and carefully slipping it to her back pocket. 

She blinked once before he took off, leaping through the buildings of Paris. 

Luka collapsed into her, nearly knocking them both to the ground as large hands grasped her arms, a disturbance of air settling around them as his appearance shifted back.

Gone was the album attire Hawkmoth sadistically transformed him into -maybe a punishment of sorts for being famous, she didn’t know. It was alarming to think Hawkmoth followed Luka as an artist, that he paid specific attention to his solo album written about his time as Silencer and studied his concept art of it and the designs made by Gabriel Agreste. 

His concert clothing were now running damp from the onslaught of the rain, his hair dripping and he heaved for air, head butting into the juncture of her neck. 

It’s safe there, warm. 

She brushed his bangs back from his forehead, “Let me take you home with me.” 

There were tremors still lingering in his movements, a rasp to his voice, testing his ability to do so. “No, no I have to, there’s a concert. I’ve gotta, no I can’t.”

“Concert’s cancelled.” She stated firmly, pulling him to stand as straight as he could. She tucked an arm around his firm waist, dragging his own around her shoulders to support him. “He fucked with you tonight, he fucked with your head, I’m not letting anyone near you right now.”

“I can’t cancel, fans will, they’ll hate me and-,” 

“Love, when you can stop shaking and stuttering, I’ll let you perform. But you’re talking to the girl who knows what a mess your head was the first time you were Silencer. You told me what it was like. And given how much crueler Hawkmoth has been since we’ve graduated, I’m guessing it’s safe to say this time around was much worse.”

“I, I’m sorry.” He whispered, “take me home, please.”

Neither questioned whether he meant his place or hers when she got them to the top floor and walked to her own door. She felt him trying to manage on his own despite his hold on her, but his weight still bore down against her even as she got them to her couch and let him flop. 

She dismissed his apologies by sending him to shower and waiting for Juleka to stop by with his sweats, 

She leans against the frame of the door as she watches Marinette toss his drenched clothes into her laundry basket, “I didn’t get to catch up with you guys after escorting civilians. How is he?”

“Fucked up,” she laughed darkly. “You remember how he was the first time.” 

“Yeah… I remember. It took him a while to stop having nightmares.”

Marinette sighed, “Luka isn’t someone meant to wield dark thoughts and dirty powers. I’m afraid it could destroy him if it keeps happening.”

Chloé stepped out of her room, concern etched across her features as her and Juleka joined Marinette in her bedroom. 

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means? Look at Luka! He’s one of the smartest people I know- he gets people in their entirety, he can read them and break them down until they feel exposed with only plucks of his string.” She leapt up as she emphasized, sucking in a breath as the day replayed in her head. “You should’ve seen him today, god. We barely held our own ground against him, and that was just from his own skills as himself and as Viperion.”

“Marinette-,”

She snapped around to the blonde, composure broken a fraction. 

“He’s the only one who can defy Hawkmoth and use the fucking bad guy to his advantage. The fucking villian can only sit and watch as his own soldier runs rampant and knocks the heroes on their asses. He’s not following his orders, he’s running on anger and the idea of vengeance.”

Juleka felt her heart skip in anxiety, “No, she’s right. You didn’t see him, Chlo, he was downright terrifying, and I was only protecting the civilians today.”

“He’s so fucking smart. He’s told me before that his mind never shuts up, that his imagination never takes a day off. I think it’s why he’s got chronic migraines or some shit- you know how quick he was to find solutions and alternatives to our attacks?”

“I saw him kick and break a vendor’s cart, that little umbrella wooden part? He made a fucking stake.” 

“He grabbed shards of glass and threw them like damn playing cards..” Marinette recalled. “He caught my yoyo and looped it around Chat’s waist and Rena’s neck- oh fuck. He knows Chat’s reflex is to run before going back in.”

“Holy shit.”

Chloé’s face blanched before she sniffed, pulling out her phone and sending a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Rescheduling my therapy appointment for earlier this week,” she replied. She looked up, a careless expression replacing her horror. “Oh, don’t let me stop you.”

The girls rolled their eyes. 

“I just, he feels so intensely and keeps so much to himself, makes himself feel alright and ignores his own issues. So, so imagine him unhinging himself and not having the good in his life. And and, and his reflexes and protective nature being tested against those against him?” 

“He’d hate himself.” Juleka whispered. A cough cleared the tall girl’s throat, her phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out, checking and letting out a frustrated sigh as she eyed the door for a second. “You know what caused this?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I have to get going too, you got this, bug?” Chloé said, readjusting her purse on her shoulder. 

“Mm, yeah. You guys should hurry before he gets out.” She gives a half smile as they leave, feeling it drop when her door closes. She takes comfort in knowing Sass and Tikki were tucked away somewhere in the kitchen, probably next to a new and torn open pack of cookies, maybe. 

She notices she can’t hear the shower, that it’s awfully quiet in her apartment now that it’s just them there. She jumps when the door opens, steam flowing out and Luka follows it- covered in only a towel and another roughly drying his hair. 

Well, he’s not happy. That’s for certain.

He has a hollow and dark look to his features, his topaz gaze turning a steely, hardened expression and locking in on hers. She sucks in a breath and he watches her chest follow the force. 

“You heard all that,” she flinches. 

“Your conversation was about on the same level of discreet as girls in Chinese dramas you’ve shown me whispering.”

His tone was clipped, and she was unable to gauge his mood as he tossed the towel and grabbed for the boxers and sweats on her bed, barely acknowledging when she turned in haste for him to change without prying eyes. 

Apparently their intense trust works both ways. 

“You were scared?” He asks from behind her, his voice startling her with how careful he sounds and vulnerable. She jumps at it, accidentally bumps back into his bare and hot chest. 

“Yes.”

“...Of me?”

“What?” She spun around quick, catching her balance on his firm waist. “No, of course not. Never you.”

“For me then,” he makes a noise of deduction, reading her clearly and trying to take any truth out of her eyes that he can get. “About being akumatized, or the chance I could go bad?”

She frowns harshly, “Being akumatized, Luka.” He gives a noncommittal shrug as he searches for a shirt he assumed was laying around. Anger flares in her chest and she yanks him back to her, the sudden action alone is enough to pull his weight. 

“Jesus fuck, Mari-,”

“No. Not now.” She hisses, watching his features shift into his kicked puppy look that pulls on her heart so much. The look he gets when he genuinely fears he’s fucked up or made her upset. 

“I, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

“Luka, I wasn’t scared of you, I was scared for you. You haven’t even recovered from the last time you were Silencer and that was several years ago. You were dropping through my trap door in the middle of the night just so you wouldn’t have to be alone when you dreamt of that day. You locked yourself in your room when they made an action figure and merchandise off Silencer- you fucking stared at it for almost an hour outside a toy shop’s window!” She looked up to him, someone as tall and big as him appearing so small and weak as he looked straight ahead. She sighed, a rough and shaky breath hitting against his bare skin as she pulled back and gathered her own clothes for a shower. The sudden cold weight of her soaked ones now seeming as a comfort to that uncertain airy feeling she had leaving him for a few minutes. 

“I’m so-,”

“I’m gonna wash up, give Penny a call when she texts- let her know you’re taking a break for awhile. Just,” his eyes were heavy on her as she rubbed between her brows. “Please, just try and rest. Stay here for the night, let yourself calm down.” 

He looked up, a dejected look in his eyes and a touch more vulnerable, “When you, can we…?”

She forces a small smile, she can see by the way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he flinches that he knows it’s not genuine, “We’ll talk about it, whatever you want. After.”

He only nods, pulling his eyes away from her and looking down at his hands intently. 

She takes longer than she usually does when she showers. 

She stays there, sitting on the floor of her tub with the shower stream hitting her fully. The day finally taking a toll on her in its entirety as she cries without sound into the wet skin of her knees. She bears down until she feels the caps of them putting a sick pressure to her closed eyes, giving a little sense of control. 

What’s left of it. 

She doesn’t know how to specifically deal with the blow Lila’s -because who else could it be that spread that rumor or managed to procure the photos- rumor that she had been running around, boy after boy, in sexual escapades. 

It felt like only the ones who desperately wanted her and Luka together seemed to stand at her side and defend her online. 

The pictures didn’t help; her and Adrien kissing in private corners when they were going out, long before their breakup but unknown enough to know when to place the time for outsiders.

Then there were pictures of her and Luka, long after Adrienette had died and drifted apart. 

Hotel security camera footage of their long afternoon in the hotel’s rooftop pool- protected by glass framework as the storm rained overhead, that was now leaked. A very private and vulnerable moment between them where Luka had held on to the floaty ring Marinette was in. His arms resting along the curves and chin pressed to the material as he stared up at her with his puppy eyes attentively. He had kissed her just as the lightning flashed accompanied with a thunderous crack. It was slow and sweet, growing longer over several minutes like they were trying to learn one another again after their one night a month after she graduated.

Another one showcased them kissing backstage with the pyrotechnics to Ivan’s showcased drum solo framing them. They had been out of view, but evidence suggested someone was watching them. Now everyone was spreading the picture around of Luka crushing Marinette to his body as he kissed her with a frenzied and breathtaking smile from his successful set, his Kitty Section mask pressed to her chest and his from where she held it. 

They weren’t even dating yet, they hadn’t discussed it or were given the chance to. 

She still felt awful: she slept with him after that performance and they both had fallen asleep, and she had planned to ask him that morning-

There had been an akuma attack. 

Either her friends had thought they were already dating, or they thought the two idiots had fallen asleep doing late night business work again. But no one questioned why they showed up at the same time, looking a little more tired than usual. 

The amount of “that had to hurt” phrases they got after the battle -because of the bruises and marks they left on one another without thinking- it was astounding. 

She had never been more thankful for getting punched in battle. 

Now though, standing in an enclosed space with the faint smell of his cologne and the bottle of conditioner he brought over for late work nights permeating the air around her, she found it a little more difficult to care about her social standing. 

Her reputation didn’t seem important that moment. Her standing picture of being Paris’ Angel was now possibly down the drain and she couldn’t dwell on it for long because she was finding a detachment to the sentiment. She was being painted as a slut and really, did it matter now?

She knew the truth, he knew it. Fuck, even Adrien could back her up if he got off his “neutral stance” ass. 

Was it really so bad if the large majority of her friends didn’t believe her now? 

She had half the mind to call Luka into the bathroom with her and see just how much he would agree with her views. See how much of a difference he could show by kissing her compared to how Adrien used to. 

She turned the shower a bit cooler. 

She couldn’t let anger guide her feelings. Couldn’t let dejection guise itself as lust and want. Luka wasn’t the person who denied her pleas to be heard, he deserved more than to be her way to relieve stress. 

Fuck, Luka. 

What was she thinking? Today had been a shit show for him too. Where was his head at? Would she need to bench him until he was recovered? Did she now have to try and make sure no Silencer2.0 shit was released for sale? It was hard enough in Kitty Section deciding to release special separate albums of their akumatized selves and songs on it. 

Fucking Silencer was the most popular theme choice for the album art option and sold out. 

She lingered a little longer, trying to grasp onto reality and reason as she strained her eyes to see her reflection in the fogged up mirror. 

She smiled a little at the nail etched music notes in the top corner, a secret only Luka could decipher between the two of them surely. 

He wasn’t in her room when she came out. Her heart going into a panicked frenzy for a minute before she saw his figure hunched over on the couch, watching some drama he was trying to pay attention to. 

He jumped when she settled a hand near his neck, fully holding his shoulder as much as her small grip could. He reclined back in his seat before looking at her. 

“Hey, um,” he blinked with a swallow, brows pinching together as he thought carefully. He cracked his neck opposite of her hold, sniffing. “I couldn’t find a shirt, not sure if one was brought over with the clothes. And given that there were pictures of us leaked..” he stopped short, muttering a curse under his breath as he shook his head a little. “I got one of my zip-ups from your closet, I hope you don’t mind.”

He fidgeted in his seat when she didn’t say anything, refusing to look back and meet whatever stare he thought was aimed at him. 

Disapproval, pity maybe?

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I headed out. Busy day tomorrow and all… I’ve been watching the next episode of that drama you told me about. You were right, subtitle reading and trying to watch does make for a good distraction. And the art they’re doing of this guy with the fake webtoon books is just-,”

He stills, words dying in his throat when she leans over a little, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her face to the side of his. 

He’s shaking. 

“Breathe for a sec, handsome.” He does as she says, his body seeming to rattle with air. “What do you need right now?”

He tilts his head, button nose slotting besides her small one and inhaling unsteadily, eyes screwed shut in pain. “You.”

She blinks a little in surprise, “Me?”

“I need you.” He pulls back, still in her hold but putting space between them. A large hand comes to palm at her cheek, cradling the side of her small face and noting the red rimmed eyes above his thumb. “Let me hold you for awhile? Please?”

The way he tilts his head, the slight swollen bottom lip from where he had been worrying it, now jutting out. 

She briefly wonders for how long she’s been in love with this man. 

“Okay. I, yeah okay.” He leans back and sideways, opening his arms and letting her climb over the backing of the couch and onto his lap. She lets him move and handle her so she’s under the blanket with him, tucked into his chest and pressed close enough to feel the short breaths he’s taking. 

Sometimes, it was so simple to forget that as cool and collected as Luka was with his punkish bad boy image and easy laughs, he was touched-starved and insecure. 

Problem was, Luka didn’t like being touched just as well. Sure, he could handle friendly touches as long as they were light and fleeting, or that of just pure platonic gestures that held no ulterior motive. But Marinette had witnessed the many times Luka had roughly shrugged Alya’s hold off or the forceful yanking of his arm out of Lila’s grip the times she had snuck her way into a photo with him. 

Luka just didn’t like being touched by many and for long. Said it made him feel uneasy at times or he could feel when it was just wrong. 

But then he’s always found ways to touch her; be it saving her from her own clumsy ass and preventing her own accidents, or it being a soft moment of affection. She seems to be the only one he’s fond of touch and seeks the comfort of.

Is it wrong that she loves it?

“Does this help?” Her words are muffled against his skin. His weird obsession with having a zip-up on and leaving it undone without a shirt ever the present factor. But it’s nice and comforting, being this close to him again. She can feel the slight differences based off of his muscles twitch, if his skin heats up more, if he flinches or his heart rate changes. The smooth slide of his skin when he gently squeezes her closer and shifts with her quells some nerves. 

He runs a hand through her damp her, an arm tightening around her waist as he nods slowly. “I feel like… why do I feel like I’m forgetting something important?” 

“I kissed you,” she mumbles, soft fingers playing with the shell of his pierced ear. They heat up, burning red at her words and ministrations. He bunches her up tighter in his arms. 

“As you or Ladybug?”

“Me.”

“Why did you get that close to me in the first place?” He sounds helpless, embarrassed enough to whine a little, though he tries to cut off the drawls that follow. 

“I noticed you were avoiding me during battle, like you still knew it was me with the mask subconsciously, despite the perception filter to protect us. So, I took a chance and dropped transformation.”

“And?”

“And, you gave me your full attention. Stopped fighting and found a way to talk things out with me, listened to everything. You didn’t touch me until I was holding you.”

“Was it a distraction to find the akuma?”

“That, and because I wanted to help you.”

He snorted dismissively. “You can just say yes, Marinette.” 

“I could,” she reasons, “but I was more preoccupied by the fact that you were hurting and I was partly to blame. I just wanted you to feel some good if I was able to.”

It grows quiet for a long moment. The drama paused and long forgotten on the screen. Two kwamis passed out in the kitchen. He keeps playing with her hair, whether for her or himself, she’s not sure. But, it’s comforting as well, and lulling her to sleep just a bit. 

“I don’t blame you for any of what happened today,” his voice is low and soft. He tilts her face up, bringing himself closer to her. “You shouldn’t have to hear that, but I’ll tell you as much as you need it to be said.” 

He looks surprised when she gives him a chaste kiss for that, almost urging her to keep spoiling him in affection and love. Until he believes he deserves it and stops reacting like he’s unworthy of her. But he returns it all the same, albeit, hesitantly. 

“I forgot to ask,” the words pass against her lips and she has to remember they’re still talking about earlier. 

“Yeah?”

“What was the akuma?” She blinks, having expected a large range of questions but not this one. Stupid, really. She is. Of course he would want to know. 

“Your phone,” she looks away in the direction of the broken device on the kitchen counter. SIM card pulled out and placed safely in her nightstand. She nearly smacks her hands against both of his cheeks when he turns to look where she is, squeezing them and kissing him again. He indulges her for a minute or so, a noise of contentment leaving his throat before he freezes. 

“It’s broken, isn’t it?” She laughs into his mouth at his sigh, unable to stop him when he braces an arm on the back of the couch and cranes his neck to see the damage all the way across the room. 

He lightly pinches her cheek when her laughter resides to slight giggling, a small smile appearing on his lips at her brief moment of pure joy and happiness. 

She deserves it, he thinks. 

“I saved the card, don’t worry. We’ll go out and get you one tomorrow.” She promises, always thinking ahead. 

“How about we come back to that after tomorrow?” He watches her eyes look at him in confusion. “I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now. I need some time. Away.” 

He can’t meet her gaze when he says it, but his words are loud enough to scream what he really means. 

He needs a break. 

He’s been worked almost nonstop with concerts, fan meets, interviews, work, et cetera. Marinette is only surprised he didn’t break sooner - or, that it’s mostly him hitting his limit by being the latest akuma victim. 

“Of course, baby.” When he looks back at her, another hint of surprise written across his face, his expression goes impossibly softer and more loving. “All you have to do is ask or say the word.”

He smiles a little, the corner of his mouth twitching in emotion. “You always understand me, don’t you?” 

“I try,” she shrugs. “It’s only fair to try understanding you like you do for me.”

“No, you,” he looks at her; her big blue eyes that seem to entrap him and leave him feeling exposed, her cheeks that burn bright when she picks up on him flirting or being a little more than friendly. 

“You get me.” He finishes. “Better than anyone, really.”

“And you get me,” she gives back, watching as he nods. “God, could you imagine how awkward it would be if Jules got you best? I mean, I am the one you’re sleeping with.”

“Oh- oh my god. Marinette, no.” He tries pulling away from her, refusing to laugh lest he wants her to know she’s amused him a tiny bit by her cheekiness. She follows him as he collapses against the couch, stretching to lay out and shifting them both comfortably when she lays herself on top of him. “You’re horrible.”

“In bed?” She replied with a tongue in cheek look. 

He flushes red, covering his face with one hand and looking away from her. “No that’s, no. I didn’t say that. I didn’t, you’re good, amazing even, I just… I don’t like you right now.” 

She leans over him, a hand splaying across his chest and fingertips slipping under the hoodie, to kiss him soundly while he hides behind his hand. 

“No you don’t,” she teases, pulling away and watching him raise his head a few inches before he drops back with a halfhearted glare. 

“No, I don’t. And you’re mean.” Her expression was a little awestruck as he stared up at her with a pout and a faint blush, having seen him wrecked the whole day beforehand. She settled more comfortably against him, both hands coming to let her fingertips stroke the sides of his face. He hummed a little, a small and appreciative growl she’d come to love now slipping out to accompany the humming. He watches her watch him, noting how she looked different with him than she did dating Adrien. 

A good different. The kind that lets him know there is something real there on her end and it’s strong. 

She slips a hand into one of his open and resting palms that’s laying above his head. His fingers close around her laced ones, giving an affectionate squeeze as they give a second to the silence. 

Sometimes he thinks Marinette is the only one to truly grasp his need for the silence every so often. 

That she’s the only one to understand he needs to take the closest he can get to “shutting off” by letting himself feel everything and learning to cope with it. That he needs to feel the pain and anger in order to move on. 

His resentment and rage are still there, lingering next to his loss of pride and shame, but having Marinette with him makes it less heavy and overbearing like it can be. Makes it a little easier to breathe when the silence is accompanied by the volume of things she’s trying to convey with her eyes. 

He prays he doesn’t fuck it all up when he speaks. 

“Can we, I think we need to talk about this whole me being a villain thing.” He seems to snap her out of her deep trail of thought, most likely regarding him and he wants to kick himself for bringing her out of that-

She gives his hand a little tug to settle his nerves, staying above him and connected so he can see that she’s being honest with him for whatever he asks of her. 

“I just wanna protect you, Luka.” She mumbles, giving a more solid hold to his face as she reassures him. 

“You said that I’d make for an actual bad guy though,” he points out. 

“I, okay, give me a second.” He leans into her touch, watching as she places thoughts together. He wonders what would happen if he could see inside her pretty little head, wonders if he could see the gears going nonstop like he feels he has inside his own head. 

He kisses the inside of her wrist softly, “Take your time, baby.” 

The way she stares and blinks at him hints that she just needed him to sort out her thoughts. He feels himself swell with pride a little, recollecting what he had lost earlier. 

“I believe that you are as good as they could possibly come. You’re a rare breed of people and I love that about you, so impossibly much. You’re sweet, kind, so smart and witty. You have this knack for just getting people and taking them apart to find them predictable as a whole, and you manage to translate that into music. Transpose, even. Everything you are is like this beautiful gift.” She frowns a little, the bright shine she had dimming a bit. “I just think you’re also so incredibly fragile, regardless of how you adjust and tweak yourself. No, you’re not made of glass, of course not. But, you’re not indestructible either. You’re human. More human than the rest of us.”

He wants to soothe the creases between her brow, but he finds himself unable to move an inch. 

“And I think that, even with you being the strongest and best person I know, those qualities that make you up can be seen as an advantage; a weapon in itself alone. That if something really bad happened, you’d let yourself fall and twist those traits of yours around and repurpose them. Because you’re that capable of doing so. Because you’re more self aware and in control of yourself than you let on to others. Really, there’s very little holding you back from being the most challenging bad guy there could be.”

“There’s you,” he breathes. “You hold me back, you make me feel like I’m okay. Like I’m happy.” He angles his chin a little upwards, very subtly but enough for her to kiss him reassuringly. He sighs against her lips, letting her swallow the sound of relief and taste it on her tongue before she pulls back. He pants for a second, “You make me feel happy.” 

Her eyes widen at his correction, a bold statement from someone like them. Her fingers twitch against his jaw, her look pensive as she frowns again. 

“What if..” she trails, lost in the thought. 

He bends a knee, tilting it inwards to bump against the swell of her ass to get her attention. She snaps her gaze back, a little stunned. 

“Tell me, beautiful.”

One of her fingers stutters in its tap. “What if you had me, but you gave in?”

“What?” He frowns, moving to sit up before she settles her weight more firmly against his hips. “I’d never leave you, I’d never be so reckless.”

“No, I’m not saying that. I trust you,” his relief looks palpable and he lets himself sink a little further into the cushions as she sits up on him, his hands dropping to her waist. “I’m saying, what if you had me and you just decided, ‘Fuck this, fuck everyone,’ and you switched?”

He didn’t like the idea of going bad, he knows very few would. But, he even had to admit that of all of them, it would make a little sense for him to be the one to turn into a villain. 

He only talked to a small fraction of the group anyways and still managed to close himself off significantly as best as he could manage.

He nodded a little, sitting up as well and rolling his neck to relieve tension when she wrapped her arms around him. He thought hard for a second, trying to consider all the scenarios but having a hard time moving past a few. 

“I’m bad in this case?” He raises a brow, looking up at her for clarification. She nods. “Right, yeah.”

“Hypothetical, handsome.” 

He blinks, deciding to just go with it. “Can I keep you?”

The way he stares up at her intensely, treating the conversation with the utmost level of seriousness he has, she melts a little, wanting to give him an answer she already had prepared. 

She doesn’t, not yet. 

He twitches with anxiety under her hold, “Are you mine?” 

“Do you want me to-,”

“Yes,” his anxiety visibly deflates a little when she meets him halfway for a long kiss, he deflates. The complete locked stiffness leaving him. “I’ve been meaning to talk about it with you since our pool kiss, but there was never a right time and I- I’m sorry. I should’ve talked about this with you, clarified things and given you answers. I shouldn’t have taken you to bed just because I considered us dating and being boyfriend or girlfriend.”

Words fell lost when she smiled so brightly at him, the happiest he had seen her in a long while. She was stunning, even more so when he remembered he was the reason why she was so happy. 

Marinette often entertained the idea of matching her friends with animals- Luka was once a dog until she realized how much a lone wolf better suited him. Like Adrien was to a cat, Luka was to a wolf. And sometimes, it helped in reading him. 

Like his awed, dumbfounded expression right now. 

She knows if there was a tail, it’d be wagging. If he had their ears, they’d be pointed towards her in interest. 

And that starstruck puppey eyed look he gave her so often.

She laughs, airy and joyful. “It’s okay, I’ve secretly been thinking of you as my boyfriend this whole time.”

He beams at that, a little shyly, but seems more than pleased by her confession. “Really?”

“Ask me.”

He holds her closer, nudging his nose to hers. “Be my girlfriend?” 

“Only if you can handle being tied down by accepting to be my boyfriend, rockstar.” 

“I’ll claim retirement if I need to, baby. Just say the word,” she laughs at that, steering the conversation away when it hits a little too close to home for them. There’s a good chance Luka would consider retirement early at his age with how much shit he goes through. He’s probably tempted right now for all she knows. 

The look in his eyes as he thinks tells her he is thinking of it. 

“Aren’t you a sweet talker?” 

“Only for my girlfriend,” he responds softly with a cheeky smile. He points to himself, looking for strict clarification. “Boyfriend?” 

“Girlfriend,” she responds, finger pressed to her own chest to mimic him. “So, what’s your answer on you being evil?”

He leans back, a hand smoothing up her spine and under her shirt as he thinks. “I’m evil, and you’re still around. We’re acknowledging that you make me happy and keep me sane-,”

“But you’ve basically quit people.”

“But I’ve quit people,” he repeats. He cocks his head, “And I get to keep you?”

“Yes, Luka.”

“Well,” he drums his fingers across the bumps of her spine. “I’m sure as hell not locking you up. But this is going based off the idea that you came with me willingly and voluntarily.” 

“Always.”

He’s still staring off, but his lips quirk into a smile at that. “I wouldn’t make you do anything, but I wouldn’t tell you what I’m doing either in an effort to spare your conscience. Unless you asked me, of course. Then I’d tell you anything you wanted to know.” 

“That all?” 

“I’d spoil you like hell, like I always wanna do but now I have no limits. Make sure you’re always safe and happy, healthy. Spend most of my time protecting you because you're my weakness, in and out of this scenario, and the bastards might try using you as leverage against me.” He growls low, a glare set on a poor plant in the corner. 

“What bastards?” Marinette giggles, breaking Luka out of his imagination. 

“The ones who are dumb enough to go against me using you.” He scoffs, “Like I wouldn’t tear them to pieces for touching even a hair on you.”

“It’s cute how murderously protective you are of me, babe.”

“I try,” he shrugs with a smile. 

“Wanna hear my take?”

He settles further into the couch, letting her nestle into him and playing with her curling dried hair. “Hit me.”

“You become evil, ditch the people, keep me,” she paused and he listens, nodding his head, “and we rule together.”

He makes a startled noise, “You’d become evil with me?”

“I’ve become evil for you,” she promises, “but yes.”

“Why? You don’t have to do that, I could handle everything.” She loves how seriously he’s taking this, it’s adorable.

“I mean, realistically speaking, for you to quit and become bad, it must’ve been a reason that wasn’t worth arguing, like incredibly valid. You just wouldn’t turn your back on the people unless you were justified in doing so. And whoever hurts you, the best person I know, then maybe they should see I don’t take too kindly to those that turned my boyfriend.”

He bites down the plea for her to call him that again.

“What about being Ladybug?” Fuck, that’s a good point. “I’m mostly out on the field to look out and protect you, but you’re the key to the group.”

Luka doesn’t say anything while she contemplates it, instead just breathing in her scent of cherry blossoms and perfume. 

“Honestly? Fuck it.” She quickly raises her head a little, checking to make sure the kwamis are still asleep. But she shrugs halfway through looking when she pays regards to conversations she’s had with Tikki before. “This group, our crew and friends or whatever they call themselves, it’s not what it used to be. Hell, I think I’ve kidded myself into believing we had such a great dynamic. But, let’s be real here, it was never that.”

“... I know.”

“My best friend who treated me as I was just third place under her boyfriend and my biggest bully. Her boyfriend, someone who actually is close to being my best friend, just acting as her lackey and letting himself fall deeper into a toxic relationship -something that’s hurting our work ethic, mind you,” she pointed out. 

He kisses her hair, “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that before.” 

“My ex who recklessly endangers our missions, our teammates and me, who sacrifices himself way too much to actually be useful.” She breathes, “... Chloé is attending therapy and is actually getting along with me so I have no real quarrels there.” Luka laughed at that, loudly. 

“My point is, just pointing out the issues of teamwork alone pisses me off. But then there’s also the questioning of my skill and capability of being the leader and the guardian of the miraculous. There’s arguing and storming out, there’s decision making and overruling over me. The secret meetings and shit, the ‘unnecessary’ and ‘unimportant’ ones held while I’m busy. There’s no respect for me in the group beyond the sub team and you, more than half the time. Fuck, I’m lucky Adrien actually flew in this week to be here today and stop Alya, she was ready to beat you after the akuma was destroyed.”

“Wait, wait that’s not fair.” Luka tensed, a chill running down his spine. “That’s abuse of power and in general, that’s having me at a disadvantage while her strength is amplified with the suit.”

“No, I know. I’m still pissed too and I’m wondering when to have a talk with her. I’m beyond pissed about the whole drama going on right now.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he presses his lips to her temple, letting her hold his hand tightly. “At least our photos were cute though, right?”

She rolls her eyes, “I may have saved some.” He gives her a point look. “Okay, all of them.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, rocking her side to side for a second. “You’d really turn evil for me? Let go of your hero title?”

“I don’t like you being hurt,” she grinds out. “I’m getting older now, I keep dealing with so much bullshit. It’s ‘Ladybug, do this!’ ‘Ladybug, do that!’” She huffs, Luka humming into her skin when she starts to shake in anger. “I’m so sick and tired of it. I’m just a fucking person! I’m not indestructible, I’ve broken bones before that couldn’t magically heal. They all see me get my ass handed to me over time and time again, and yet while they’re all hiding while it happens, they’re the ones screaming in fear. They’re the ones who decide the moment an enemy approaches closer is the perfect time to flee from their hiding spot they were safe in. And then when all is said and done, and some things are fixed, everyone walks away and goes back to what they were doing. And I’m fucking there, clinging onto you for support because I’m bleeding badly or I’m limping.” 

She turns to him, eyes a little watery and voice heavy. “I once had to go back to lecture with a gash in my side and it soaked through my clothes. There was blood on my chair and I had to lie and pretend I got my fucking period out of the blue because I didn’t know how to confess I was bleeding from being thrown on top of broken light pole.” 

Luka grunts, his tone deeper and angry. “When did this happen? Where was I? Marinette, love, I didn’t fucking know about this.” 

She bit her lip, gnawing on it and jumping when Luka pulls it out and away. He soothes it with his thumb, trying to calm himself a little. It’s no use, really. The anger is flaring up again. 

“You were touring, last few months I think. I called you that night though, past midnight. I just wanted to hear your voice then.”

He flinches, “You were dating him then.”

“Yeah, Adrien is great at a kiddie buddy boyfriend that you have to have at some point, but he never took anything seriously. I’ve told him about some wounds and injuries and he would either dismiss it as a normal day at work, or it somehow became a playful competition I didn’t feel like being part of. He wasn’t available often either because of his work schedule, when he did see my text he said he would bring me hot chocolate for my period.”

“He did what?” Luka seethed, moving to grab Marinette’s phone on the table she had placed before she snatched it away and tossed it to the farthest end of the couch. He glared at her, less heat than was aimed at the phone but still there to signify that he was by no means pleased by the story, “Beautiful, I have no issue climbing on top of you to get that phone and calling him over to kick his ass.”

“There’s no point, Luka. He won’t remember, he barely even remembers half the guys we go up against. Plus,” she pouted at him, genuine this time and less cutely done. “You said you wanted to lay low for awhile. Stay with me, pretend the world outside that door is gone and it’s just us.” 

His heart raced at the thought, thinking of just two of them. “We wouldn’t have to protect everyone else if we were the bad guys, would we?”

“We wouldn’t have to pay the civilians any mind, let the team and themselves figure out shit by themselves.” 

“We could be alone and live in peace. Ignore everyone else’s problems because they’re not ours. We don’t have to care anymore.” 

“Ditch the team, only send news to our families that were fine to keep them safe and out of trouble from us.”

“Take Ladybug and Viperion away, their tactical experts and battle strategists. Let them realize how fucked they are without us.” He had an angry aura to him, one that was soothed by her presence on his lap and kept it at bay, an attractive showing that he could very well be capable of being her legitimate partner in crime; how he’d be willing to do anything bad so long as it was for her and she was with him. 

“Let them crumble without us to pick up their slack or get them in line.”

He becomes teasingly closer, straightening her hips and running over the bones of them under her shirt, “Take Marinette away from her supposed friends, run away with her and keep her protected from all the bullshit and messes they get her in. Make her happy, keep her happy.” Luka made a pleased noise at his idea, cheeks burning at the simple thought of Marinette being genuinely happy for the first time in years. 

“Be selfish for the first time ever with you, keep you to myself. Remind you every day how much I love you and need you,” his breath hitched, hands seizing a grip on her waist. 

“I could make you so happy, Marinette. I could love and worship you every moment of every day, prove that you deserve better than what you have right now out of life. Prove that I’m working my way to deserving you.”

“You do, you do deserve me,” she protests. 

He shakes his head with a small smile, “I don’t believe it, but I’ll try.” 

“Then I could spend every day proving we’re soulmates or halves, that we were meant to be together.”

Luka took in a shuddering breath, feeling her own chest rattle with sharp air at her own words too. His laugh is humorless, part disbelief and part restraint.  “You’re really tempting me right now, Marinette.”

She holds his face, catching his stare dead on and feeling like he could melt her on the spot if he really wanted. 

“You’ve been my best friend for so long, for several years since we were younger, is it-,” she stumbles for words, feeling her fantasies catch up with her and take over. 

Luka’s eyes widen a little before he leans forwards, squeezing her waist and kissing her jaw. “Ask me, tell me”.

“Is it too much to think,” she lets out a loud sigh when he kisses below her ear, prompting him to force himself back and push her a little back on his legs for them both to focus. He nods, slightly out of breath, for her to continue. “‘s it wrong to already know you’re the one?” 

His leg jolts at that, jostling her a little and they both catch her weight before she can tip to the side, “Wh-what? What did you just say?”

She braces her hands on his chest, pushing one shoulder of the opened hoodie off as he stares at her with stars in his eyes and a dark flare in them too. 

“We could be so happy together, couldn’t we?”

“We would be,” Luka promises, voice an octave or two deeper and sincere, no less shaky though. “I only want you to be happy, love.”

“You make me happy, enough to be a villain with you.”

“We would be the happiest villains ever, huh?”

Her stare suddenly burns through him as she takes him in completely and wholly, regarding his face and expressions with such tenderness he’s close to crying and baring himself even more to be exposed for her eyes beyond his skin and bones. He wants her to find whatever it is a soul is inside his body and just take it, let her carve his heart out and etch her name across the organ and not give it back. 

The way she kisses him once, sweet and gentle, he decides she can just brand his heart with her name and he’ll be more than happy with that too. 

“You’re definitely the one, you’ve always been the one.” 

“I always knew you were the one, there was never a doubt, Mari.”

He wants there to be more ways he can let her know, he wants to believe there’s more than just physical connection they’ve barely gotten to, that can express how much he feels for her, what screams beyond “ I love you” and lets her feel the gravitational pull she has on him. 

“If we were villains and we lived how we wanted- alone and in peace, we could do anything?”

He feels like he’s close to breaking. He can tell by the way she’s swaying that she’s ready to combust. He’s suddenly both afraid and anxious, doesn’t know what could happen if they reach the end of this conversation with the most they’ve done is kissed. He’s confused and hyper aware of how fast his pulse is racing and his need to look at her and bury her beneath him to protect her or hold her close or-

“Anything, baby. Any fucking thing you want, tell me and I’ll do it, I’ll get it.” Her thumb catches his bottom lip, tugging it down to bear his perfect teeth with sharp canines. 

He feels broken; not necessarily turned on by the twist of the night for them, but increasingly vulnerable and intimate with her as they volley words and promises back and forth, each more loyal than the last and more revealing. He’s almost afraid she’ll get all his inner most fantasies out that regard of dreamt futures of them together and settled, or she’ll realize the truth behind so many of his mistakes where he let her go or pushed her to the blond. He’s afraid she’ll see in his eyes just how perfect she is and how much he needs her and be alarmed by it. Frightened to believe she’ll be able to find all the moments where he stared at her and Adrien and was flooded with jealously and possessiveness, thought, “I could do better than him.”

But this talk, of them being together and going bad, rogue even if one were to take apart their whispers, it’s too much and he’s feeling intoxicated by every word that passes both their lips and out into the open to be heard. He wants more and he knows it’s going to make him lose it all the same, but it’s addicting. She’s telling him she’d leave everything she’d know to be with him, regardless of whether they fall on the side of light or dark. She’s aware he could be the worst of the worst and that he’s more than capable of it. She knows she’s the core that’s keeping him grounded and has stopped his spirals her friends have put him in or the public. 

And she’s willing to become hated with him if it means being together and being happy. 

He entertains the thought that in another life, they had gotten together sooner. In another life, they’re already married because they just know they’re the one for each other. 

In another life, they could say goodbye to responsibilities and morals and be selfish as the bad guys together. 

They’ve both slipped, both said “I love you” in a sense and he wants to say it again, say it more clearly and concisely, but the conversation seems more intense than that ironically. Only they are picking up on the hidden context behind their childish plans to be evil, over the rushed ideas and dreams of not being good anymore. 

They’re tired and exhausted; they’re the only two keeping Paris afloat from their selfish team who just see an akuma as a stress relief. Paris is filled with the selfish civilians they’re protecting that only thank them because they want something from them. 

And then there’s their very much publicly profiled jobs they have. 

Luka as the son of Jagged Stone and main singer and lead guitarist of Kitty Section with his side solo career and forced modeling. The fact that he help runs the talent agency. 

Marinette as Agreste’s leading young designer. Personal stylist to Kitty Section and designer of albums and concept art to so many clients of the talent agency. 

He wants to be bad, just once. He wants to be the villain and stop pretending he’s fine with the world. 

He wants to be with her.

“Luka,” her voice has a pretty husk to it, boyish sounding even that it reminds him of the times she would silently bitch and grumble about Lila next to him when only he could hear. It gnaws at him in the best ways because only he ever got to hear it. It was a voice only his ears got to listen to when they were younger. He zones back in on her, on the hazed out look she has and how unsteady she seems. 

He feels drunk as he hums back. Granted, he can’t drink due to intolerance and his allergy, but he’s imagining it feels like this. And that it’ll leave him fucked up like this. And now he understands why people keep getting wasted. There’s no care for repercussions if it means you get to feel this good and excited for a short while. 

He steadies her, finding his brain clearing and the buzzing to cease a little. His voice sounds like a tired slur as he drawls out, “Baby…”

“Say we’re evil right?”

“Yeah.”

“We can do anything we want, when we want?”

“Mhm, whatever you want.”

“So that means we could find out sooner then?”

“Find out what?”

“My dark midnight like hair and your natural black hair,” she trails and he feels like he’s missing something for a second, wondering if this conversation is having a heavier effect on her and if he should stop it when, “We could find out what color hair our baby would get, right?”

He gives himself the chance to be stupefied for a moment; let his heart beat harshly and his words get caught somewhere in his throat behind his surprised growl that sounds all too bewildered and pleased at the same time, before he’s crushing his lips to hers and hauling her up and off the couch. 

He stumbles when she bites at his lip, sucks on his tongue and giggles into his mouth when he loses balance, his side crashing into the wall a little harshly just as one large hand drops to cup her ass and steady her. 

“You okay?” That giggle is going to be the death of him. 

“Fucking perfect, love.” How much he loves when she shivers at his rough voice.

But, he wants that. He wants that future. He wants that hypothetical, fantasy baby. He wants her. 

He wants to keep her. 

She’s carding her fingers through his dried hair as he makes work of their clothes after catching her eyes in a silent question. He’s busying himself with her neck and his string hand that trails lower- trying to hear what he considers a siren’s calling from their time before that haunts his dreams some nights- as she works the sleeve on him, teasing him when he lets out an unrestrained moan against her collarbone and bites her in retaliation when she jokes about maybe it not being the best time to find out about the baby’s hair right away. 

He disagrees, but oh well. He can wait.

He bites down the question about the baby’s eyes and which shade of blue they would have.

They’re making promises to be on the same side, no matter what. That unspokenly, outside their families, they are the only ones they can trust in the world. 

She can feel it in the way he’s wrapped so completely around her, arms pulling her close and guiding her legs to hang on around his waist. The reverent words whispered across her skin and the way he lightly scratches blunt black nails down her sides to bring her back into the moment and remind her it’s not a dream, that he is there and with her. 

He feels like he’s drowning when she holds his face to meet his eyes; such a deep and pretty blue that glistens in the little flicks of light, the way her blown pupils swallow it up. It reminds him of the times the sea radiates such a deep cobalt that catches the sunlight, and how the deepest of those waters appear black upon the surface and breathtaking as it is dangerous. That alone is overwhelming him and he lets himself be pulled in by her and the infatuated look she shares with him, lets a growled groan slip out when her eyes flutter shut for a brief second and almost whines to see them again. 

Would it really be so bad, to drown in his own personal sea? 

The depths of uncertainty and bearing pressure the further he goes down… he’s almost sure he’ll find a shipwreck of her faith in humanity, the carnage that hasn’t withered from the flooring’s tides. 

When she cries out and arches against him, almost singing his name with a whimper, kissing him and bringing him over the edge with her, he has reason to believe that he may be the resisting decay of the ship wreckage; he’s the last piece of humanity she’s clinging to as an idea of faith outside the air bubble that is her family. 

He’s heaving for air when he collapses down and against her, face buried into her marked neck with a muffled groan and full body shudders. 

He wants to say it, the three words that underlay the whole of them. But it’s not the time for it, and he knows she knows, and tonight seems deeper than those three words can provide. He tiredly searches his thoughts to give a semblance of what he really wants to say, what they both wanna hear. 

“I’d kill for you,” he admits in the quiet, breath ragged and rough. 

He feels her breathe deep and hard in surprise, the skin of her bare chest growing hotter that Luka believes maybe he should pull away, wonders if he is burning up just as bad. 

But her hand is running through his hair and down his back, nails gliding just a little and her touch feels possessive for the first time in a while. He’s melting into her, convinced he’s only meant to stay with her in his arms and the world shut away. 

She’s his best friend, and his hers. So many years spent with uncertainty and secrets, so much pain and bitter acceptance. 

There was a shatter when articles were posted against her. Luka’s tampered rage running rampant and more powerful to-

“I have to admit something,” he confesses, voice impossibly quiet. “I didn’t try that hard to kick Hawkmoth out of my head.”

Her hand freezes, “What?” 

“I stopped trying to resist, I let him turn me. I gave up and wanted the power to actually do something and help you.” He didn’t move when minutes passed and she kept quiet. He wanted to speak up and ask her what she was thinking but, she deserved the time to think. He had held it back all night when he could’ve confessed beforehand, he fucked up. 

His hand squeezes just under her rib cage, his body shifting a little on her. ‘ Say something,’ his touch begs. 

“Luka,” he should be scared that she’ll not only kick him out of her bed, but she’ll shut him out completely like they want to do with everything else. Realistically, it probably is too much to consider an alternate future where they could let go and stop limiting themselves. 

He’d only dream of being with her; proposing and marrying her out on the waters. Having a child together and seeing how they’d take to creativity. 

Hell, he’s fortunate he’s gotten this lucky and far with her if he’s being totally honest. 

It’s why he’s more than prepared to haul himself up, off and out of her when she gives him the kick that he’s sure to follow his-

 “Yeah?”

“I’d kill for you, too.”

~*~

She’s still up when Luka starts twitching a little in his sleep. 

The first signs of a nightmare starting as he clutches his zipped hoodie she slid on in a tight fist, hot puffs of air fanning across her collarbone and the small whimpers he lets out. 

She gives it a second, trying to gauge when someone shows up and takes the anticipation away of waiting to be caught off guard in his dream. When he stops breathing she jostles him a little, settling her phone to the side in the covers and gently calling his name.

He wakes up with a start. 

Arms bracing his weight off his tiny girlfriend and eyes frantically looking around the room. He sighs in relief when he sees two framed photos on her far nightstand. One of the both of them, the other of just him with his guitar on the Liberty at night under the moon. 

His head hangs low as he catches his breath, “Fuck.”

“Bad?” She gauges. He can only nod as he goes boneless in her guiding hold to lay back on top of her. “Anything you need to talk about?”

“No, nothing special.” He yawns, eyes growing heavy to fall back asleep. He nuzzles his face into her neck, hand petting and kneading her waist. “Sorry, love.”

She’s grabbing for her phone when she presses a kiss to his head, smiling at his happy hum, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” 

“What’re you doing?” He blinks a blearily eye at her phone, a slow hand reaching to turn the screen towards him. He frowns, a tired pout visible, “Why are you still reading these articles?”

She waves him off a little, ignoring his grumbling, “I’ve been trying to figure out my next move.”

“Next move?” He’s yawning again and she considers ignoring him until he falls asleep once more, wanting him to get as much rest as possible. “What next move?”

“The ‘kissing scandal’ seems to be the most stressed issue in these articles. I think I can prove myself as a designer and my own hard work, but it’s the pictures without timestamps that seem to be everyone’s issue.”

“What do you wanna do then, baby?” His tired slur is cute, very disarming to a rockstar with a strong and cocky presence on stage. 

“I don’t know, you think maybe we could,” he seemed to be listening a little more intently, but he groans when her phone rings, blindly grabbing it and shoving it away from them both like it personally offended him. 

“No, don’t answer that.”

“It’s Penny,” she argues. 

“Baby, please.”

She rolls her eyes, pressing to hear Penny just as Luka shoves his face into her neck and whines a little more dramatically than usual. 

“Hi, Penny.”

“Marinette! Have you been able to get in contact with Luka? He’s not answering his phone and he didn’t show up for the concert, which was kinda expected-,”

Marinette cuts her off, “He’s with me right now.”

“Oh,” she can almost hear the tension ease from her shoulders. “He is?”

“Yeah. And sorry, about his phone I mean. It broke.” 

“No, that’s fine. It’s just, his dad you know? You learn to get worried if they don’t pick up the first few times. Luka isn’t anything like Jagged, of course, I mean the man flew to Australia one night, drunk as hell.” Marinette laughs at that, feeling Luka let out an amused snort. “We had been in America that night, Marinette.”

“Yeah, no we just came back to my place and I got him to go take a shower and rest up. Convinced him to eat the takeout I bought an hour or two ago. He’s just resting now. Do you need to talk to him?” 

Luka makes a noise of disapproval, easing when Marinette starts playing with his hair and stroking the nape of his neck. 

“It’s fine, he needs to rest.”

Marinette doesn’t wait to ask Luka, gnawing on her lip before she breathes. “Can we clear his schedule for these few weeks?”

He doesn’t say anything, but she can tell he’s awake enough to know to stay quiet and try not to jinx his luck. 

The man believes in sirens for fuck’s sake. Of course he’s praying not to screw himself over by even speaking. 

Before Penny can ask, she keeps going. “I think we need to let this blow over, show him after he’s recovered and working on his projected plans, leave no room for another Silencer concept album again.” 

She knows that Penny knows there’s more to it than that; that being Silencer is one of the most biggest psychological mind fucks someone can get. 

That’s not even counting his experience as Viperion after all these years. The worst miraculous holder to be. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll tell Jagged and you can tell the band when you’re ready. Is he okay?”

“Tired,” she ignores the teasing pinch to her side. “We’ve talked about it, but he’s mentioned he doesn’t wanna discuss it beyond the two of us. Not something easy to causally vent about… He said he thinks he needs a break from the stage and just the rockstar life for a short while, until he’s ready I guess.”

“Honestly,” she sighs, “we’ve been working the kid nonstop. Maybe this will keep him from burning out like so many artists have gone through in the past.”

“Maybe,” Luka kisses the edge of her jaw softly, reassuring her that he’d be fine. 

“How are you doing? With the recent blast on you, I mean.”

She sunk a little further into the bed, Luka’s face pressing behind her ear and hair. 

“I’m more pissed than anything, but having Luka here helps. It actually gave me an idea.”

“What is it, kid?”

“Luka and I don’t conceal our relationship.”

She gasped, a little surprised and a little excited. “You’re together? I mean, of course you’re together, we already figured that and we’ve been waiting for you guys to say someth- you’re official? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

She felt Luka’s smile against her skin, how he pulled her so close and tight to him. 

“Yes,” Marinette beamed, voice going a touch shy on the phone. “The paparazzi isn’t going to just leave us alone. If he and I get caught on camera together then that’s that. It’s the truth. No publicity stunt or scam, it’s just us.”

“I’ll let Jagged know now so he doesn’t cause a big reaction for the press.” She ignored Luka whispering to her.

“Thanks,” Marinette replied, she waited a beat. “I should go, Luka’s whining for attention.”

“Okay,” she laughed, clearing her throat to seem professional once more, “I’ll let you go, check in with me when you can tomorrow. I’ll send a new phone over by then too, night.”

“Night, Penny.” She had less than a second to set her phone down before Luka was pulling her face to his and swallowing her annoyed teasings. 

“You’re sure about this?” He rushed. He’s thumbing her bottom lip, sitting up and straddling her underneath him. 

His heart is borderlining on painful when that slow and beautiful smile spreads across her features, blue eyes shining brightly. She sits up under him, pulling herself back a little from the cage of his thighs, reaching to cup his cheek. 

“I’m sure,” she promises. “You and me.”

“Even if I’m good or bad?” She kisses him slow, her free hand curling in one of his. 

“Even then.”