Chapter Text
Marinette couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t let herself believe it, not until she showed it to at least twenty people. And then she’d double-triple check.
The ache in her back that she’d been complaining about at least five times a week suddenly felt irrelevant, even earned. Because yes, she was standing solely out sheer willpower, pettiness, and seven energy drinks, but she had done it.
A part of her felt silly that this, in particular, felt so important to her when she was the holder of the Miraculous, and therefore had the fate of Paris on her hands, but to hell with that feeling. She was about to have her own “The Devil Wears Prada” moment, she got to be selfish for once, she deserved not thinking about the great responsibility entrusted to her at sixteen.
Marinette got the job. She got the freaking job at Gabriel’s, her favorite fashion designer’s line. It wasn’t a high position or something where she’d be able to let her creativity flow, but she got in. And she could climb up that ladder, she would get experience in the field, charm a few superiors, show her designs, attend fashion events, make contacts, and finally, would be her own brand. It would take years, but if she could handle fighting Hawk Moth for seven years, she could handle rich people in the fashion industry.
“You did it, Marinette!” Exclaimed Mullo, the Miraculous of the rat.
“Of course she did it, they would be fools otherwise,” Sass said with his characteristic calmness.
“Sass’s right, Marinette.” Tikki smiled at her holder. “You’ve been working so hard, and your designs were wonderful, it was clear you would win!”
Marinette sighed. She was surprised to hear none of the Kwamis saying something along the lines of “I told you so” (however, she was sure that she would get enough of that from Alya when she heard the news) because it had taken her such a long time to agree to enter the contest that got her the job. On the Gabriel Agreste website, one Tuesday in September at exactly three o’clock pm, a post calling all aspiring designers to participate if so they wished in a design competition. The winner would get a one-year contract at Gabriel’s brand, and if their performance was successful, they would be hired as a permanent employee.
Marinette did not think she’ll win. Yes, she had been designing her whole life, had been in love with making garments since she touched that sewing machine that her grandma gave her as a child, but as of real experience… other than making her own clothes, mending her friend’s shirts and theatre costumes, she had none.
She had tried submitting her designs multiple times, but a little voice on her head always told her that it wasn’t enough. That there was no way those mediocre designs would get anywhere. However, she sent them. And lo and behold, she passed the first stage. From then on, an email would be sent to her presenting a challenge, a situation, and a prompt she would have to follow to make her design. Then, after she was finished in the time given, she had to record a video explaining her interpretation of the prompt, while going through every bit of the design.
Every time, her self-doubt was close to consuming her, and every time she shut it down by doing her god damned best. She won each round.
When the last challenge was sent, she knew nothing else other than design. Elegant gowns, pulled from a fairytale weren’t her forte, but she, once again, put her all into the challenge. She ate the gown, she breathed the gown, she was the gown.
She didn’t dream of the gown because she didn’t sleep. Chat had threatened to find her and hit her in the head with his baton, that way she would maybe faint from the hit but at least she would sleep.
Marinette was half tempted to agree.
Anyways, she all of her blood, sweat, and tears into the dress, and it showed. The whole dress was covered in hand-sewn crystals of a very light orange, the cut similar to a mermaid dress; it hugged every curve from the top and the back was exposed, then the bottom draped to the floor, making it seem like it was created from a pool of stars.
Okay, maybe she was kind of good at making gowns, pretty damn good if Alya’s misty eyes and her immediate claim of the dress for her wedding said something.
The results were just sent to her, five minutes ago. She had been gawking at that message for five straight minutes, not being able to process it. Then Marinette did what she does best: start planning ahead. Would she forget those plans? Yes. Would she make other plans that were so stupid and unrealistic they sounded like the set-up for a joke? Also yes. Mind your business.
She could get a permanent job at the brand that made her love for designing spark. This was a dream come true. An actual job. At something that she was passionate about. Marinette was going to sign the contract even if it was the last thing that she did. Working for Gabriel would be the best thing she could put into her curriculum.
To be honest, even if the winner did not get the full-time job, winning that contest would still be a great thing since that meant that the Gabriel Agreste would have approved your designs. But Marinette wouldn’t be content with that. No. She wanted to stay there. She wanted to stay there and be competent and impress Gabriel and make a name for herself. She wanted to prove all of those rich bastards that she had the displeasure of meeting when helping her parents cater at those events wrong; she would look them in the eye and make them eat those horrible words whispered at her behind her back, those words that they were convinced she could not understand because she is Chinese.
She would succeed.
But first, sleep.
“Thank you, everyone, for believing in me,” Marinette said sincerely, interrupting the Kwami’s celebration. “I would not be here if it weren’t for all of you refusing to let me eat or sleep until I entered the contest, even if now I can’t listen to any Britney Spear’s song without having a meltdown, I am so thankful for you, friends.”
The Kwami’s looked at her with happiness, and that’s all it took for the tears to start spilling.
This made every bit of tiredness and scars worth it: being a source of pride for the people who loved her. For the people that she loved.
And when all the Kwamis panicked and hugged her whole body, screaming reassurances and wanting to stop the tears, Marinette decided that this would be the start of her life. No matter how intimidating everything might be. She defeats villains every day, how hard could it be?
She will do this.
World, you better be ready.