MysteriousChar

Above all else, he found himself using his power for Marinette. It had nothing to do with his bias (mostly), but one reason was that she was unlucky. Another person might insist that she was a klutz, but he'd prefer to say that "her instrument wasn't designed to play the notes she came up with."

The other reason was that she was his girlfriend, the guardian of the miraculouses, so he saw her often. He wasn't trying to score any extra points with her by "abusing" his power, but she had enough burdens and stressors to where he preferred her time with him to be as nice as possible. He caught her waist when she tripped, played missed notes properly whenever he was distracted by her very presence, and focused even down to icing cookies.

The last one had been his current role for their time together. They were at her house in the kitchen, the cookies having just cooled down from the oven so they could ice them. Marinette was watching him and had carefully instructed him on how to do it, but listening and absorbing weren't the same as putting it into action.

Go outside of where he intended? Reset. Accidentally put a little too much in one spot? Reset. Lose a bit of icing when he was adjusting his grip? Reset.

He normally wouldn't have gone to such extremes, but Marinette wanted to try the cookies he'd iced. He recalled her telling him before that presentation could play an important role in taste depending on circumstances, and he would've hated for her to have a subpar cookie after all the work they put into making them.

Perhaps it was his own fault. He'd grown so used to rewinding that he became reliant on it, but he did genuinely want to make good cookies for her.

Then, on what was probably his tenth reset, he heard a giggle from Marinette at his side. It jarred him so much that he drew his icing right off the cookie, which meant resetting again to undo it.

The giggling increased, though this time with her covering her mouth to suppress it. That simply wasn't normal, as everyone had always behaved exactly as they did before upon resets, at least until he did something different. She was reacting the moment the reset occurred.

Luka tried to make sense of it, eyeing her out of the corner of his vision as she tried so hard to suppress her giggles. Whenever he reset, their positions did too, so they were in the same pose at the time he'd reset to; she'd called it "going back to a savestate," which was apparently a gaming thing.

However, her actions weren't like an NPC in-game who got wrapped up in a reset and were going through the same motions for a hundredth time; she was like his player two who sat by his side and had watched him load that savestate.

"...Marinette," he began, pulling back from his designated task to look at her. "Do you know when I reset?"

She was still trying to suppress her giggling, but her eyes widened at the question and made her try harder. She forced out a cough, cleared her throat, and blushed noticeably as she hesitantly made eye contact with him.

"...Yeah," she admitted from behind her hand. "Sorry. It's a guardian thing; I still can't tell the difference when you use Second Chance as Viperion, but I go through the resets like you do when you're not transformed."

That was a step up from what he'd expected. He thought she was only vaguely aware whenever he reset, but she was actually just as conscious as he was.

"I—" His jaw dropped in horror, imagining her in the middle of working whenever he reset and her having to redo little bits of it over and over. "I'm sorry."

"W-what?" She blinked rapidly, shaking her head at him. "No, Luka, you didn't know! I'm the one who's sorry for not telling you!"

He frowned, acknowledging her point but not understanding why she'd do that, or rather not do that. It sounded like an inconvenience no matter how he looked at it.

Blushing in embarrassment, she went closer to him, one hand on his arm while the other rested on the hand he was holding the bag of icing with. Meekly, she explained, "I'm usually the one always trying to make everything perfect for everybody else. You're the first guy - the first anyone - who's tried so hard to make things perfect for me. I was worried you'd stop if you knew that I knew, and you were just so... cute?" She ducked her head. "I know guys don't usually like being called that."

Luka honestly hadn't had an opinion on being called "cute" until that day, but if it was Marinette doing it, then it was absolutely delightful. On the other hand, he wasn't sure how to feel about the idea that she would've kept such a secret from him.

Her eyes scanned his face, picking apart the various emotions there, then she frowned. "I'm really sorry for not telling you. I would've loved your cookies no matter what, and I wasn't trying to deceive you or anything."

"It's not that. I'm not mad or anything." He put down the icing bag so he could hold her hand. "I'll never stop wanting to make things as perfect for you as possible. I'm just a little sad."

"Sad?" she echoed, seeming torn between being happy that he wasn't going to stop doting on her and regretful that she'd made her own boyfriend upset in some way.

"If I knew before that you went through my resets too, I would've done things differently, that's all." He glanced at the oven's clock to check the time. "Like... how long do we have until our date's over? You said that your parents wanted to take you out to eat since it's been a while?"

"Uh?" She didn't catch onto why he was asking, but stared at the clock anyway and replied, "Ten minutes? That's still enough to eat the cookies we made after we ice them."

With a chuckle, he bent over and cupped her cheek with his free hand, running his thumb over her lips. "We have a lot more time than that now."

"What...? Oh!"

The last thing he saw was the sparkle of realization in her gaze before the two of them closed their eyes and abandoned their cookies, all so they could get lost in kissing each other. What was barely a second to everyone else was a countless amounts of well used resets to them.

She had thought the dream was weird and never saw the boy again until when she was six. She somehow contracted pneumonia and was sent to the ER for a life-threatening emergency. 

She slept at the hospital that night, afraid and alone, her parents weren’t allowed in the room as the sickness was contagious. 

She saw the green-eyed boy again, this time looking older than he was when she last saw him. His scowl was the same, looking down at her with disapproval as if she had sought out the sickness on her own and gotten sick on purpose. 

“Don’t look at me like it’s my fault,” She snapped, unhappy with his disapproving expression. 

He looked surprised but the expression was gone as quickly as it appeared, the scowling expression slipping back like it never left in the first place as he spat, “It is your fault! If you never went near that sick person in the first place, you would not have contracted the disease.” 

Marinette stomped her foot, unwilling to let the boy talk to him like that. “It’s not my fault I’m sick! Everything hurts! I’m scared and alone, I don’t need to add you yelling at me to the mix.”

By the end of her rant, she was struggling to contain her tears, the frustration of everything she had been holding back while she had been awake came tumbling out.

The boy’s face softened slightly and he shifted, looking uncomfortable at the girl looking so close to tears. He gave a hesitant gentle pat to her head as he said, “Get better soon.” 

The following morning when she woke up, her pneumonia had been cured. 

Since that night, the mysterious boy appeared more often on days when she got hurt or injured, and with her clumsy nature, she saw the boy every few days.  

“I just realized I don’t know your name,” Marinette asked one day as they hung out in the dreamscape. 

They were both doing their own thing, with the boy focused on his sketchbook and Marinette working on some colouring book. 

He grunted, not happy with the interruption. “That is not important.” 

She closed her colouring book and got up to snatch the sketchbook from his hands. 

“Hey!” he glared at her, hoping to intimidate her but she was stubborn, not giving in. 

“It’s important to me. I want to know who my friend is,” she said, referring to his earlier statement. 

“We are not friends,” he grumbled, looking away. 

She stuck out her tongue. “Too bad. You’re stuck with me, you always appear when I sleep.” 

The boy stubbornly avoided her gaze, focusing on some shelves behind her instead. 

“Just tell me your name. Please?” She whined, putting on her best puppy doll eyes, his scowling expression faltering as he all but melted at the adorable expression she was making. 

He huffed, trying to act like he was unaffected by the look but Marinette knew better. She had come to figure out his weakness as her puppy doll eyes and she used it to her full advantage. 

“Damian. Damian Al Ghul,” he said, glaring at her. 

Her smile was bright, his glaring eyes softening immediately and she was happy she had finally got him to tell her his name! He was going to be her best friend, it would be the last thing she did even if he continued to be stubborn. 

At 13 years old, she was given the ladybug earrings and became Ladybug, the heroine of Paris. 

That came with a price. She was injured more often, her meetings with Damian in the dreamscape every few days turned to every day. 

He had somehow known her identity as Ladybug as soon as she saw her the night after the first Akuma and he had thrown a fit about it. 

At 16, the akumas had escalated. Before, when the Akumas avoided killing and only stuck to injuries now weren’t afraid of taking more ruthless measures.

Multiple times when Marinette thought she was about to die, something miraculous happens to change it like the universe was being warped to make sure she doesn’t die and in a way, avenges her while it was at it. 

About to get lava sprayed and incinerated from an Akuma? The lava gun runs out of lava fuel, allowing her and Chat Noir to catch him off guard to break the akumatized object.

A car getting thrown at her by an Akuma and about to crush her? It missed, somehow ricocheting off a building and hitting the Akuma square in the face. 

That one battle where Hawkmoth himself shows up and has her cornered, about to grab her earrings? He gets attacked by his own Akuma. 

An Akuma that absorbs the powers of miraculous holders and cataclysms her? Oh would you look at that, the Akuma gets sidetracked at the last second— courtesy of Chat Noir— and the wall behind her disintegrates to dust instead of her. 

She could go on. It was absurd and a bit (utterly) ridiculous if she was being honest but at least her life never really seems to be in any real danger. 

She had thought maybe it had something to do with her donning the ladybug miraculous and it was giving her insane luck, she even consulted her kwami about it. 

Tikki had debunked that theory, looking confused as she did. “I’m not sure what’s happening to you, Marinette, but the ladybug miraculous isn’t the reason. The ladybug miraculous can give you a little luck at times but there must be balance, which means you would also have bad luck days. All those circumstances weren’t the outcome of lady luck and not to mention, you never seem to have any bad luck days. Even when you do, the event always somehow gets altered at the last second.”

Marinette had brought up her theories to Damian but he always looked uninterested and avoided the subject so she stopped bringing them up in the dreamscape. 

She had a hunch on why this was happening but she denied it and pushed the possibility out of her mind. Damian never said anything about it, so she wouldn’t either. She was good at denying things, it was how she never figured out Chat Noir’s identity. 

Now at the age of 17, Marinette was still contemplating if she was somehow immortal when Scarecrow broke in while her class was given a tour of Wayne Enterprises.

“So this is the famed Akuma Class, you people are the perfect test subjects for my new and evolved fear toxin! I wonder what fears you all have… Oh well, I’m about to find out.” Scarecrow announced, looking around in excitement like a kid in a toyshop for the first time. He pointed to Lila. “You! You look the most scared… Wonder what you’re afraid of, hmm?”

He looked to his henchmen. “Bring her here!” 

Marinette rubbed her temples. She might not be Lila’s biggest fan— an understatement— but her hero complex won’t let her stand by and do nothing. 

Even when it was completely Lila’s fault that Scarecrow had taken an interest in them— you can’t go around saying how you knew the Waynes and not expect any kidnapping attempts for ransom. 

No matter, Marinette can take Scarecrow’s attention off Lila and make him focus on her instead. Marinette knew death avoided her like the plague at this point and if she wasn’t immortal, then maybe she was just insanely lucky. 

“Let her go,” She said in a tired voice, not putting much energy into shouting but her voice rang clear in the quiet room as everyone looked fearful. 

Scarecrow looked delighted by the prospect of someone volunteering. “Oh, a volunteer I see?”

He waved his henchmen off and they dropped Lila, causing her to tumble to the ground with a gasp, the henchmen moving to grab Marinette instead. 

Marinette let herself get manhandled towards Scarecrow as he grabbed his syringe, the pointy tip of the needle gleaming in the light. 

The fashionista in her wanted to protest at the sack-like mask he was wearing and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything to anger him. It’s not like she’s seen worse, Hawkmoth has a worse fashion sense if she was being honest. 

Of course, her mouth didn’t stay shut for long and spat the words out without her permission, the need to critique his fashion overpowering her self-preservation. 

“Nice mask,” She quipped, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm off her tone even when her very life was on the line. “Are you participating in the next potato sack race or are you trying to start a new fashion trend with that?”

Scarecrow’s eyes flashed with anger at her remark and he moved forward, pushing his henchmen out of the way, about to stab the syringe into her bloodstream when she acted on her instincts as Ladybug and sent a roundhouse kick to his face, catching the mad scientist off-guard as he lost his grip on the syringe and fell backwards. 

The syringe seemed to have flown in the air in slow motion, the tip of the needle stabbing into the arm of the fallen villain and injecting the fear toxin into his bloodstream, making him get a taste of his own medicine. 

Marinette allowed her lips to twitch upwards at the sight, her guardian angel had struck once again. Her slight smile faded away at the thought, not wanting to come to terms with the facts. 

She turned to see that Batman, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing had arrived, looking dumbfounded at the scene. 

Red Robin stepped forward, looking cautiously at the screaming Scarecrow before addressing her. “Miss? How did this happen?”

Marinette hummed, looking nonchalant. “You can say he got a taste of his own medicine… literally.” 

The Batboys burst out laughing at her pun while Batman looked unimpressed. 

“What you’re saying is, Scarecrow was hit by his own syringe?” Batman asked, looking suspicious. 

She shrugged, looking towards her class to see they were being ushered out by Ms. Bustier. 

“I did a roundhouse kick to his face,” She admitted, making eye contact with Ms. Bustier who waited for her at the exit. “It caught him off guard and the syringe was knocked out of his hand before the pointy tip landed on his arm.” 

The suspicion in his eyes didn’t clear as he responded, “You must have been extremely lucky. This happened too conveniently, don’t you think?”

Batman was prodding for something but she couldn’t find it in herself to care about the interrogation or to quell his suspicions. “Mr. Batman, I was just in a traumatic situation and now have PTSD. If you don’t mind, I would like to join my class and spend the rest of the day at the hotel to get my mind off of the traumatic experience,” 

She could see Red Hood trying not to laugh at her reply as his shoulders shook and she turned away without waiting for how the Dark Knight would respond. 

She walked away to join the rest of her class as she heard Batman tell Red Robin to get the cure for Scarecrow.

──────────

As she went to sleep that night, she pushed the day’s events from her mind, and the fading laugh of Scarecrow dissolved into the quiet stillness of the dreamscape. 

Damian was already in the dreamscape like usual and was glaring at her with his arms crossed and looking annoyed. 

Marinette sent him her brightest smile, hoping to soften his annoyed look at her recklessness. 

It worked, his eyes softening, although he didn’t uncross his arms as he pinned her with the look he had on every time she did something that injured or almost killed her.

“I know you did that on purpose. What theory did you think you were trying to prove?” Damian asked, unhappy with her lack of self-preservation. 

Her eyes were wide, looking the epitome of innocence. “Did what?” 

He scowled, the soft look in his green eyes gone as it glittered with annoyance. “Tt. Don’t you take that tone with me. You know exactly what you did, don’t make me say it. It is getting increasingly harder for me to save you every time.”

To his horror, tears were glistening in her eyes and he tried to backtrack but the damage was done. 

“You died, didn’t you? Before we met? You were so young,” Marinette whispered, the tears falling as he didn’t respond. His silence was enough to confirm she had been right all this time. 

She looked away, unable to look at him as she came to terms with the facts she had been deadset on denying since young. 

Damian reached out a hand and looking hesitant, he moved forward to hug her from behind, his arms going around her waist and causing her to freeze at how he was initiating physical contact.

“Angel, I was never sure how to break the news to you… but it seems like you’ve always accepted the fact, albeit subconsciously. I did not mean to keep that fact away from you.” he said quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes and savouring the moment. 

He was right, even if she was actively denying the fact that he was dead, her subconscious had long already accepted. 

Since Damian had died before they met, their soul bond activated upon his death, the universe gifting them with the dreamscape and making it so that they would never be apart, even in death.   

There was a catch— she could only meet Damian in the dreamscape if she was injured or came close to death and he warped the universe to ensure she would avoid death. 

It was why she had always been clumsy, her heart knew he would be waiting for her in the dreamscape and wouldn’t be able to see her unless she was hurt in some way even if her mind hadn’t accepted it. 

Marinette voiced her thoughts out loud and he tugged her to face him, his green eyes meeting her blue ones with an intensity that made her breath hitch. 

“I don’t wish to see you hurt, Angel. I do everything I can to make sure you don’t die by saving your life at every turn. You need to stop with your recklessness,” he said, trying to look stern, although he didn’t look very convinced he was going to get through to her. 

She was stubborn and he knew it. 

He reached out to wipe her tears away with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Thank you, Damian, for everything,” she whispered, the weight of her unspoken emotions palpable in the air between them.

With a trembling smile, she tried to lighten up the mood even as her heart felt heavy. “You know I won’t. How else will I see you every night to make sure you aren’t feeling lonely without my company? Besides, I know you will always watch over me.” 

Marinette knew her response held some truth to it, she didn’t like the thought of Damian feeling lonely in the dreamscape. She wouldn’t stop being clumsy, if only so she could see him every night in the dreamscape. 

He softened at her words, though he still didn’t look happy. “I gave you immortality, I can take it back anytime.”

She went quiet at that, looking thoughtful. “Why don’t you?”

His brows furrowed, a rare show of his confusion. “What?”

She elaborated. “Why don’t you? Take away my immortality that is.” 

His brows deepened, not understanding why she was asking him such a thing. “You deserve to be happy.” 

Marinette shook her head, stepping closer to him. “What if my happiness is with you? Why do you save me every time when you could’ve let me die to be with you?”

Damian’s eyes held sadness but no signs of regret at his repeated decision to save her. “You deserve to live the life I could not. You have dreams to fulfill and many things to discover in life. It is not your time yet.”

At her shocked silence, he continued. “You don’t know how hard it is to let you go every time. I am afraid that one of these days I will no longer be able to find it in me to let you go and bind your life to mine in the afterlife forever.” 

The tears she had managed to keep away started to come back at his heartfelt confession. 

“Please, I beg of you, don’t try to die anymore. Live your life, the life that I did not have the chance to live. If not for yourself, then do it for me,” he looked desperate, his stoic mask cracking, allowing her to see every emotion he was feeling. 

Her lips quivered, the tears flowing from her eyes and dropping to the white smokey ground, the droplets absorbing into the void like it was never there. “Will I ever see you again?”

Damian allowed himself to smile if only for her sake, the muscles feeling strange at the unfamiliar expression. He could see her eyes dropping to his soft smile and how her eyes were tracing his features, committing it to memory. 

“When the time is right. I will always be here when you need me, mon ange. This is not goodbye,” he said, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. 

Marinette closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in his presence before it was time for her to wake up. 

She would live her life and fulfill her dreams.