#lukabug

——-

Ladybug panted as she ran after the kidnapper in front of her, weaving around the various civilians that were watching more than actually doing anything. Honestly, they were an active detriment, the criminal using them to their advantage by bumping shoulders with, shoving, and trying to pull them behind them with the arm that wasn't carrying the toddler.

She sighed through her nose, used to it by then. It was just how her ability worked, vigilante things being difficult for her thanks to her luck not favoring her yet going well for the civilians in the end.

That was exemplified perfectly as the kidnapper was heading straight for the road, intending to cross without looking both ways to get away from her. Luckily enough, a group of six was just leaving a building nearby, so close together that it'd be too difficult to plow through them. It forced the kidnapper to take an alternate path, ducking between two buildings to make their escape.

Smirking, Ladybug hurried into the alley before that one, knowing the village like the back of her hand at that point. There was only one path the kidnapper could've taken when they went that way, and she was ready for it.

Climbing up atop the lid of a trash container and using a nearby sign to gain some extra height, she ascended to the rooftop and ran across to hop to the other one. In the brief glimpse she got between them, she caught the kidnapper panicking and taking the only route they could, with the other having been blocked off about a week ago from her memory.

Mentally calculating the kidnapper's speed and her own, she went to the edge of the rooftop and timed herself. Leaping down at the perfect moment, she fell just behind them and grabbed at their collar, choking them for the second she pulled them backwards.

She'd tried to avoid violence in her teen years, but she honestly had no patience for people who tried to swipe children. Giving the kidnapper's head a solid whack, their legs only kept them upright long enough for her to secure the child in her arms. When the criminal collapsed to the ground, she set the little kid aside so she could pull the thread from her ladybug-styled bag, turning the kidnapper onto their stomach so she could tie their wrists behind their back.

"Lay-dee-bah!" the toddler exclaimed, bouncing excitedly behind her.

Rolling her eyes fondly, Ladybug finished the job and turned to give the kid her attention. They probably had no idea how much danger they were just in, but she let it go because they were cute. "That's me! Your parents have been so scared, you know that?" Rubbing their oblivious little head, she suggested, "Let's get you back to them, okay? They were doing their best to keep up with me, so they shouldn't be too far."

They outstretched their arms to her, eyes sparkling in that familiar starstruck way that she both loved and loathed. She reached out, taking them by their waist, and was about to lift them when she heard voices from outside the alleyways.

Law enforcement, because of course it was. She suppressed the urge to groan, as she could tell that their concern lied in catching the "vigilante taking the law into her own hands" rather than the kidnapper they didn't know had just been caught.

(Whatever. They'll forget about it when they realize that they can take credit for this,) she thought, releasing the toddler and telling them, "Quick, go on out there! Mommy and Daddy are waiting for you."

She could faintly hear the parents amongst the other voices, so she wasn't concerned when the kid ran out of the alley. Shaking her head at what would probably be another thankless job, she pushed herself up and went to leave.

However, she quickly encountered a problem. There was no easy way to get onto the roof again, and she was horrified to find that she could hear those desiring to catch her from every path she could take to leave. How predictable it was for her luck to run out there of all times, except this wasn't just bad, it was disastrous.

Pacing back and forth, her anxiety spiked as she tried to determine the best way to get out of the situation. Behind the buildings she'd climbed was a fence, but she wasn't sure if they may have laid a trap for her there.

She seriously debated on just running out, mental images in her head of hopping along the shoulders of the people trying to catch her, but then she was shadowed out by a presence hovering over her. Stunned that she hadn't heard any approaching, her head darted up on alert only for fabric to be practically thrown over her head.

"A-ah, hey—!"

An unexpectedly gentle and masculine voice whispered to her, "It's alright, don't worry. Stay still."

"Huh?"

The fabric, as she quickly noticed, was a jacket, then a cloak that was promptly slipped over her head. Though she was confused, her brain processed fast enough to realize what he was doing, and she went along with it by settling herself up against the wall.

As footsteps approached, she slipped her arms through the sleeves and tried to hide herself as much as possible with that and his cloak. The guy was tall, so there was significant coverage to conceal most identifying features.

He then leaned over her, a forearm pressed against the wall behind her just as law enforcement appeared. Their weapons were brandished, but he seemed unphased by them and didn't bother hiding it.

"Do you mind?" he asked. "If you're looking for Ladybug, she's already gone, and we're kind of busy here."

She bit her tongue in an attempt to conceal her amusement, using the opportunity to complete the look by leaning against him. It allowed her to hide herself even better, and he didn't show any sign that he was against it.

Though she couldn't see what was going on from her position, she heard the flustered mutterings from her side. It was mostly about how kids these days were so shameless and had no sense of danger making out in front of a criminal, and they either weren't aware or didn't care that they could be heard.

With seemingly no Ladybug to go after, they settled for taking the kidnapper away. They were mumbling about the strike she must've dealt on their way out of the alley, but what mattered was that they were leaving.

She waited, listening until the synchronized footsteps faded away and the village returned to its usual clamor, then pulled back to smile at the man. "Thanks. I owe you one."

She hadn't been able to get a good look at his face before due to the hood, not shocked to see a pair of ocean blue eyes just as calm as his voice had been, all under intriguing black and blue hair. He didn't have the kind of look typical of someone famous or at least popular, but she would still consider him rather handsome.

"You're welcome, but you don't owe me anything." His smile was wide without being forced. "I'm just helping the woman I've heard so much about."

"Oh. That—That's sweet of you." She tugged at the fabric of his hood, almost feeling shy, then stiffened as she remembered that she was still wearing his clothes. "Ah—let me give these back!"

He laughed as she tried to find a happy middle between getting the clothes off and not causing any damage to them. "It's okay. I'm not in a hurry."

Still, she didn't want to make him wait, and it was for that same reason that she didn't question him further. While it was a pleasant surprise that a civilian helped her out, she was more puzzled by the fact that he knew who she was. Basically everyone in the village knew her, and she knew who they were in return, yet she didn't recognize this guy and could tell by the way he spoke that he wasn't from around there.

Had the word of her vigilantism reached so far?

——-

It'd been a rough week, so Marinette had allowed herself a trip to the nearest tavern. She didn't go to such places often, but it was a special exception whenever she needed a drink.

Though, she obviously never risked getting drunk else she might reveal her identity to someone. More often than not, it was just a single glass and light food, and that particular day meant wine and some bread.

The place was bustling, active without being overwhelming, and the limited food selection also meant that it wasn't loaded with so many scents that they became indistinguishable. It was nice, being in a place she wasn't usually and enjoying whatever idle gossip she overheard.

People came and went so much that she barely registered the door opening. What she caught more was the sudden silence in the tavern, heads turning to look at whoever had entered.

She initially glanced over her shoulder to look too, not overly interested in the answer, but froze when she saw who was actually standing there.

It was him. The upper half of his face was shadowed out by the hood of his teal cloak, but she'd worn that very cloak herself and recognized the pink of his lips. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief, wondering what it meant that he was there at all.

Was it a coincidence that he happened to show up when she was there? He "happened" to be around too when she needed someone, but she didn't want to overthink it.

Just as she tried not to think about it at all, his head turned in her direction and he smiled. She blinked, looking down at her hands as if she'd accidentally shown up wearing her full Ladybug costume, but she was her typical civilian self.

The man was getting more mysterious by the second, and he only diverted his gaze from her when the tavern's owner approached him to talk. The rest of the tavern started mumbling to each other, some apparently teaching the clueless ones about the guy that she was clueless about as well.

Viperion was the name he went by, and he and his lyre traveled from place to place to tell all sorts of stories he'd heard that he never seemed to run out of. Less than a handful of the whisperers had actually seen him there prior to that very moment, while others had simply hoped to get to listen to his animated, engaging tales at least once.

Like a snake charmer in a tavern full of human-shaped snakes, he had an air about him that drew everyone's attention. She could confirm as much, as none could take their eyes off of him as the owner led him to the center of the room before stepping aside to retrieve a stool that Marinette previously thought was either broken in some form or merely there for decoration.

Now she knew it was Viperion's.

He got comfortable there, no focus given to the world around him as he experimentally played a few notes on his lyre. Marinette didn't realize at first that she was leaning towards him to listen better, not until she saw everyone else doing it too.

The tavern was so quiet that it was as if it had entered another dimension entirely, so enraptured with whatever he might say that the outside didn't feel like it existed. No one ate or drank, though some held their food and drinks to their mouths in anticipation.

Finally, Viperion uttered, "Abilities." He lifted his head to survey his audience. "We all know the kind of people who are born with special powers, right? Some of them keep it a secret their whole life, others tell the world without caring about the consequences, and then..."

Though his eyes remained shadowed out by the hood, she could've sworn he made eye contact with her.

He continued, "There are heroes who try to use their gifts to help everyone else. They're rare, but I know enough about them, and the one thing you might not've thought about are what their lives are like without the mask, or where they ended up."

Slowly, he plucked at one, then two, then three strings on his lyre, letting it act as the background music whilst he told his tales.

——-

Marinette came to understand that day why Viperion was such a big deal. He was an incredible storyteller, perfectly pacing out every detail and instilling just the right amount of emotion into them. It was as though he'd been there himself, experienced it through the person's own body, and the accompanying music struck a chord in everyone's heart.

Her heart especially, in a way she wouldn't have been able to explain had her past self simply been told about it. It wasn't just that she had a power and served as the village's "resident vigilante," which already allowed the stories to resonate with her, but also that each ending he laid out was a happy one.

Serving a community willing to protect them, finding true love, and their lives ending with a smile on their face. She'd felt undervalued throughout her life, certainly, but it didn't occur to her until then how much she'd unconsciously feared her future, and the situation with law enforcement hadn't helped.

Was she going to end up happy? Did everything she did actually matter, or was she leading herself to an inevitable, sorrowful end? Would it have been better to keep her power all to herself?

Yet, Viperion had known exactly what stories to tell, when she'd barely been aware of her own issues. How'd he--

"You look like you have something to ask me," a voice spoke from above her.

She nearly squeaked from shock, jolted back to reality as she looked up and saw the man in question standing at her table. The tavern had returned to its relative normal by then, with the only thing being that customers had begun talking amongst themselves about the stories told to them rather than their previous discussions. The non-magical spell he'd had everyone under had lingered without breaking entirety, and he seemed open to her questioning him however she wanted.

Did he already know what she was going to ask? That'd be great in its own way, as she was lost for exactly what to focus on.

"...How?" was what came out in the end, and she didn't know how to clarify beyond that.

How did he know her identity? How did he know what stories she needed to hear? How did he know tales that he shouldn't have been able to know?

He grinned at her, now close enough that she could see his soft blue eyes this time. Waving a hand at the seat next to her, he asked, "May I?"

"Oh? Y-yeah, sure!" She gestured at the same spot, welcoming him eagerly.

He sat down, putting his lyre on the table to where it was an equal distance to both of them. Running his fingertips along the strings without making any noise, he explained, "I have a power too."

Marinette noticed how open he was about it, and she found herself intuitively trusting him in that no one would hear their conversation. "Really? Does it have to do with how you captured your audience like that?"

He shook his head, though his grin widened at her casual praise. "I can hear the strings of fate playing, from the past to the future. I can know anything that's destined to be or already was, as long as I'm where it happened."

She'd never heard of such an ability, but it explained why he traveled. Each place he went must've been like unlocking a treasure trove of information that no one but him could see, and he turned those into stories.

"So... you know everything, or as much as you want to listen to?"

"Something like that. Some people changed their fate, and I can hear the new song they wrote over what was supposed to play." With a shrug, he added, "It was harder when I was a kid, since I'd hear all of it without knowing how not to listen."

She nodded in understanding. Reigning in her luck was hard for her too at first, and there was one time back when she was younger where she'd accidentally given luck to her school bully, claiming sickness for the following week so she could learn to control it.

"...Wait," she uttered in realization, leaning towards him with a dramatically serious expression, "does that mean I was fated to get caught that day?"

She wasn't so naive to think that he was following fate by going to help her; she didn't have that kind of luck in her life. The only explanation was that he'd interfered intentionally, which was why he'd been there before and why he was here now.

Viperion, looking all too proud of himself, told her simply, "I think the best kind of fate is the kind that people make for themselves. I didn't want to do nothing when I heard what'd happen to you, and I've been interested in meeting you since I listened to your song."

The way he'd phrased it made her heart skip a beat. There was something incredibly romantic about someone weaving themselves into her life, sewing together holes she didn't know were there and caring for her without even meeting her. When he'd said he'd heard about her, he meant on a much deeper level than she could've imagined.

Though he knew she was Ladybug, she felt like his eyes were looking at Marinette.

"...When you say interested," she began hesitantly, wondering if she might've been misunderstanding, "I just want to make sure what you mean..."

For the first time since he'd gotten to her table, he averted his gaze from her. Eyeing her glass of wine with a hum, he pointed at it and asked, "Do you mind?"

Though tilting her head at what seemed like an irrelevant question, she answered regardless, "Go ahead."

He grabbed the stem of the glass, raising it to his face, then paused to make direct, unwavering eye contact with her. Deliberately turning the glass so that the side that had faced her prior was facing him, he took a sip from the exact spot that she'd been drinking from.

Her face heated. That had been the answer she was hoping for, but she hadn't expected him to answer in that way.

"I..." She glanced around their little table, then reached out to fidget with her little basket of bread and butter. "I'd ask if you'd wanna stay a little longer, but all I have is bread and wine."

He chuckled. "That's fine. I didn't need either to be here, did I?" Leaning towards her, he whispered in full trust of her, "It's Luka, by the way."

"Marinette," she responded in kind, unable to stop herself from beaming at him.