The akuma alert was getting upgraded yet again. It was nearing half of Paris, from what she could see of her screen at this angle. Looking at her in worry from her bag was Tikki, who was glancing between the screen and her, obviously not wanting to interrupt but afraid of what might happen if she didn’t.

Marinette was grateful. Tikki had let her have this. More importantly, had wanted her to have this.

She wouldn’t betray that, or Paris, by letting mere lust and a simple boy be the reason Hawkmoth finally won. Even if she were entirely aware calling it mere lust, and Damian a simple boy, was vastly understating things. Marinette slowly unballed her fist in his hair, and unwrapped her legs from around his torso. He felt her moving back and forced himself to gently lower her with such even control that Marinette might have thought he was in command of himself entirely if it weren't for the fact that he stumbled away from her, falling into the chair the second her feet were on the ground.

His hands were still trembling lightly, clenching and unclenching as he almost unconsciously kept reaching for her. Every time he did he caught himself, visibly asserting control over his wayward self.

Marinette, for her part, kept sliding, her legs needing a moment to operate again. She was incredibly grateful for the stabilizing force of the wall, even if it was still heated from her presence. It served as a reminder of what she was giving up walking out of here, and motivation to keep moving. Not just because the alert on her phone was blinking red, but because she had a sudden awareness that if she stopped she would never leave.

Not with Damian looking at her the way he was now.

She was very careful not to meet his eyes directly, aware she’d be skewered in place by the blades in them. Of course, it didn’t take very long for her to gather up all her things, and really as far as her things went it was pretty much limited to her bag and Tikki. Marinette considered taking her sketchbook, but knew it would be safe with Damian in the room.

Not meeting his eyes, carefully, she made her way across the room. Pausing at the door, with her hand on the handle, she asked, “You’ll be here when I get back?”

Damian’s voice was a little ragged as he replied. “I’ll wait.”

Marinette’s face curled into a smile. His tone wasn’t the emotionless one it’d been when she arrived and his words weren’t crisp any longer.

“Good.” And then, emboldened by the past… however long that kiss had lasted, she added, “I like the thought of you waiting for me.”

“Tt,” Damian replied, clicking his tongue in a way that reminded her what he could do with it and sending a dangerous shiver down Marinette’s spine. “I will hold it against you in our ongoing negotiations.”

That was a promise Marinette hoped he kept (in an innocent way, (was what she meant) of course, because she was making him wait and it was terribly rude even if it was out of her control). So, yes, a promise. Kept to the letter of the law, ideally...

Because… law was important or something or whatever. Sabrina’s dad was always saying stuff like that after all, and he probably had a point! One Marinette was hoping Damian could educate her on…

All she could hope was that the subject wasn’t too hard for her. Marinette did have difficulty keeping up in class sometimes, considering her moonlighting as a superhero and fashion designer. So remedial tutoring might be required, and Marinette had heard stories about how strict tutors could be. She could end up chained to a desk, slaving away, forced to repeat the lesson until she internalized it completely, punished by a quick smack from his ruler (something about the idea of him holding the blade-like implement felt right) every time she stopped paying attention…

She would just have to hope he was the right kind of tutor (whatever kind that was).

Marinette chanced a glance back at him. His chest was still rising and falling at a more rapid pace than his carefully calm expression indicated, and she had to force her eyes not to lower upon catching the hint of an uncomfortable looking bulge in his pants. He was still sitting in the chair, splayed out uncharacteristically and yet visibly gathering himself as he slid his limbs back toward his body.

His eyes, however, were tightly focused on her. The blades in them looked sharpened, honed for another round as soon as she wanted one. For his part, he was carving her body with them in long sweeps that finally rose to meet her own eyes. There was no hint of guilt from his blatant appraisal of her figure, and his expression didn’t waver at all. It was simply appreciation and attraction, from her toes to her eyes making it obvious there wasn’t a part of her he didn’t like seeing.

Well, there wasn’t a part of her she didn’t like him seeing either.

Not when his gaze had the effect of calming her anxiety and silencing the doubts she felt before every battle about her worthiness and ability to win. It cut away all those now petty concerns and left her with an implacable certainty. Marinette felt relentless, confident in the knowledge that she was the Guardian of the Miraculous. Ladybug. Paris’ Lucky Charm.

Hawkmoth didn’t stand a chance.

And while Damian didn’t know all that, he looked at her like she was all that. And more. That kind of blatant, decadent, cherishing of her was affirming. The thing that really made her smile, however, was that he didn’t uplift her. He wasn’t holding an idealized version of her in his head, the way Chat did with his miladys and blind faith. The faith Damian had certainly wasn’t blind, not with the way his eyes cleaved to her. She wasn’t idealized either, and he wouldn’t be constantly measuring her against some plaster angel she could never be.

Instead, Damian uncovered her, letting her show what was already inside. The tenacity she’d cultivated in endless battles against akumas. The kindness she’d fostered for those who needed a friend to pull them back from the negative emotions. The creativity she’d built into her life and designing process. The joy she’d stitched into herself and every piece she made. The insecurities she’d listened to because she wasn’t confident enough to shout over them. The rambling, because she could never quite find the right words. The good, the bad, the uniquely Marinette.

Flaws and all, Marinette felt like there simply wasn’t a part of her she could show him he wouldn’t like.

It wasn’t a sexual thing, although there was certainly a promise of heat in his eyes. It was more personal than that, more intimate than something like a merely physical connection. And while her dissection of this emotion, this experience, might be complex, the thing in his eyes was extremely simple when you got right down to it. Just being seen, and accepted.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

How long had it been since she felt that way? Felt really seen by another person and not a Kwami?

Probably since Master Fu, before he lost his memories. But Marinette had done a lot of growing since then, so while she would always treasure him for acting as a father figure, for introducing her to Tikki, for giving her the gift that was the Guardianship, she simply couldn’t deny, particularly to herself, that she wasn’t the same girl now as she’d been back then. Age, MDC, and so many more things had made her different than she’d been back then. And it had been a long time since she felt seen, particularly this version of her.

And whoever she became, whether that was with him or without, Marinette had absolute certainty that the kiss and everything leading up to it, the series of moments, from surveilling Kory to kissing Damian would be a part of her forever. Branded against her soul like the feeling of Damian’s teeth in her neck was going to be branded into her skin, invisible perhaps, but present for the rest of her life.

It felt like putting on the earrings, for the first time. Not quite aware of what she was fully committing to, but somehow knowing in the furthest back place in her mind that this was an event, it mattered, that the Marinette who entered this tiny little design room tucked away in the corner would not be the same girl who left. And that was Damian’s fault.

Marinette would need to hold him accountable when she got back. Probably by making him count… things…

(starting with how many buttons she had left)

Of course, to get the chance to do that she’d need to deal with this akuma first! Since her Ladybug suit had no buttons, obviously.

Before she ducked out the door, she asked, “Is this,” she bit her lip, almost afraid of asking, but desperately needing to know, “is this even real?”

Damian didn’t answer her right away. Instead he picked up one of her sewing needles from the desk and pricked the tip of his finger. Holding it up so she could see, he let a drop of blood well up and run down it before he said anything.

“I’m not dreaming, are you?”

“I don’t want to be, but part of me is very afraid that I am.”

Damian nodded in definitive agreement and then he tossed her the needle. As Marinette raised it to her finger, he interrupted her.

“Wait.”

She paused, holding the point against her skin.

Damian regarded her for a long moment, impressing Marinette in his sight. “Just… if you aren’t real, wait. Please. I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

Marinette didn’t wait. She was quite real, after all. And the pinprick point of pain in her finger confirmed it.

“Ouch!”

Her exclamation broke the spell that had settled on them both for the past few seconds. Marinette glanced down to where a bead of her own blood was welling up. And then another. She might have been a little overzealous in proving her realness! Hurriedly, she put her finger in her mouth to stem the bleeding, sucking away the blood.

It wasn’t until she had her lips pursed and taught around her half in finger that she looked up and saw Damian’s expression.

He was drawn tight like the string of a bow, held in thrall to the image of her lips. Marinette swirled her tongue around her finger, keeping her cheeks tight so the impression of it would be visible as her throat moved.

(she was just ensuring all the blood was gone, obviously! Oh and making sure Damian really, really couldn’t forget the sight of her of course)

Damian swallowed lightly as she did, the apple of his throat bobbing as his teeth welded themselves to one another in a long grind. His expression was tortured, completely locked on her in a mix of anguish and pleasure. Marinette found that she really, really didn’t mind that look in his eyes. And that she was slightly curious how much more intense it would get if she were sucking on something other than her finger…

Pulling her finger out of her mouth with a pop that made Damian shudder, she grinned at him with a slightly (very) manic expression in her eyes and proclaimed, “See? Real!”

Damian let out a long, relieved smile. It was unexpected on his face, because without the smugness and superiority he’d had when she first walked in (Marinette had shattered any remaining trace of them both in the space of one tongue swirl) it was completely different. He still had a sense of those cutting lines but now instead of all that it was warm. There was no trace of haughtiness, just a sharp presence that made it apparent how immediate his response to her was. With his square jawline and pointed chin it projected an immense amount of confidence, even if his obvious relief masked some of it.

And, because Marinette felt a little bit elated from the last few… whatevers, she asked him in a slightly (very) impossibly chipper tone, “You aren’t saying anything? Is it because you didn’t see the blood? I did get rid of it really fast so if you need me to poke myself again I can, but my finger might run out of blood at that point and I think licking it away might make me seem like some kind of vampire, which I’m not! Obviously!”

(no matter what she'd do to his neck)

“I don’t know how to say what I want to say.”

Marinette took a half step back to him (so she could do her civic duty and educate him thoroughly) before catching herself, she had an akuma to exterminate with extreme frustration first. “You should think about it! How you can communicate what you want with your mouth!”

Damian let out a very short laugh that was more an exhalation of tension than a proper exclamation of humor. “I intend to.”

“Good! Make sure you do!”

“However.” A trace of that haughty confidence was back as his tone firmed up into steel. It made Marinette snap to attention a little. “I will be relying on your presence as my practice partner.”

“I did agree to sparring, does this fit under that?”

“If you want to think of it that way then I will be happy to educate you on the value of a more traditional approach.”

Marinette felt a smile creeping up her mouth even as her eyes took on a wicked gleam. Teasing him, she replied, “If you think you have anything to learn from my unexpected angles.”

Damian turned up his nose a little, which didn’t really make him look superior since he was sitting and she was standing, all it did was make him look like a cat trying to maintain its dignity. Particularly given the flush on his cheeks and the slight puffiness to his well-kissed lips.

Marinette had to giggle a little as he said, “Unexpected is not ineffective.” And then her giggle went away as he added, “As for what I have to learn, experience is the best teacher. And I will not be satisfied until I have experienced every bit of you.”\

Oh no.

Marinette realized she was in trouble.

Okay, more like was reminded she was in trouble. Because a boy who said something like that to her wasn’t someone she could just forget about.

Because it wasn’t only Damian who’d been afraid he was dreaming. Marinette was a little terrified, at both the idea this was a dream and the pace of it if it wasn’t. Although, if she were asleep then this wasn’t a dream. Marinette knew if she woke up it would be from a nightmare because a boy like this, saying these things, just appearing in front of her and then suddenly not existing… that would be a nightmare, no other way to describe it. And not one she would recover from anytime soon. No, it would be the Hawkmoth-akumatizing-her kind, that lingered after she woke up and haunted her throughout the day.

And speaking of Hawkmoth, Marinette was really pushing it. So instead of trying to come up with an adequate response to Damian’s statement that he wanted all of her (and unsure if any adequate response would involve words, even if it would involve her mouth) Marinette instead nodded, blushed a red so deep if she were in her Ladybug suit her face would match it, and beat a hasty retreat from the room.

Whipping past a bemused Dick and surprised Kory she raced through the building until she found the roof access stair tucked away in the off-camera top of the stairwell she’d found her first week here when plotting out adequate escape routes. Zooming out of her bag, Tikki started to offer her some words of encouragement that died as she threw open the door to the roof and saw what was happening to Paris.

The akuma was too far away to make out exactly, but the sight of Hawkmoth gloatingly twiddling his cane from a rooftop next to it was hard to miss. Chat was doing his best, which was quite a lot when he was really motivated like he was now, but it was obvious from the dirt in his hair, the numerous small cuts on his costume, and the way his chest rose and fell rapidly that he was flagging.

The akuma surged forward, a titan of mass that rolled toward Chat squeezing in between the buildings. Chat barely dodged as it bulldozed over, and Hawkmoth paused his monster to make some statement that, despite Marinette being way too far away to hear, she could probably have recited verbatim. The thing was growing as it pulled away, the people that had been nearby all sucked into the mass. Their faces poked out the sides, expressions frozen where they were when the akuma assimilated them. At the top the torso of a kid poked out, his face streaked with tears as he held a wet letter in his hands.

On one of the massive television-billboards nearby Marinette could make out Nadja Chamack with a scrolling news ticker proclaiming the thing, “Unaloner” and wondering where Ladybug was.

Well, Marinette could fix that last part, and shortly after she’d be fixing the rest of it too.

Ducking against a wall and tucking herself under the shade of the small overhang of roofing shielding the access hatch’s door from the elements she curled her hand around her ear and proclaimed with the same absolute confidence and joy that she’d always had, that Damian had uncovered, had seen, that she possessed just as much as Marinette Dupain-Cheng the plain, ordinary baker girl as she did as Paris’ Miraculous Ladybug…

“Tikki! Spots on!”