#Bruce thinks there is someone pointing at the Waynes and catching innocent people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devilfic · 1 year

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Ma’am,

I live for your writing, and the way you understand every character it’s just so -9):$/8-

Now, I don’t know if you are taking any requests, if that’s not the case ignores this.

So I ran across this post and I was like, okay but battinson or eddie (Yes. I’m obsessed with emos) being like this with reader, it doesn’t necessary has to be that concept, like either of them praying for reader’s mere existence or admiring their physique when they are insecure

OR SM

❝good grief❞

plot: you and batman have something special going on. obviously, people notice. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: romance, a smidgen of angst, a lil’ sensual, needy!bruce, implied past sexual encounters, you assume the role of catwoman in this scenario but no gender-specific language is used for you, mild violence. words: 1.8k.

a/n: this is so fun actually and you know I had to write my boy YEARNING. thank you for the inspiration @ptergwen and your anon!

True as your captors had predicted, a commotion had stirred the outer perimeter by hour three.

Had there not been gunmen pointing their weapons at your head, you might have already sliced the rope holding you bound to the rafters and gotten away, but you were a smart cat if nothing else. No matter how quick, a bullet would be quicker... so you had to wait for the man with the Kevlar.

And he had come. A true dark knight.

Thunk! Thunk! “Oh, finally. You’re here.” You stretch your claws up to the ceiling with a yawn, wide awake. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! “You didn’t think I stood you up, did you?” Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! “Look, I’m just as mad as you are that these bozos got a one-up on me, but can you at least untie me first?”

One final, solid fist to the face is overkill for the size of his opponent, their body crumpling to the floor half-alive. Your hero stands over them as if waiting for them to dare twitch back to life. When they don’t, he takes a large step over their head and approaches.

You had yet to get a good look at him down here, what with the one light bulb swinging overhead and the boarded up windows. He was as much a shadow as he was a man. But now that you can actually see him, you count yourself lucky you hadn’t been the one facing him down only a moment ago.

He raises his Batarang and severs the rope around your wrists, sending your full weight into his chest where he catches you effortlessly. You try not to let the embarrassment show on your face when you clutch at him for dear life, arms numb after being suspended for so long, but he doesn’t judge you. He stares past your embarrassment, looking for something else, “What did they do to you?”

You’re shocked, his hand following soon after his words as it feels up your waist and thigh, feeling for broken ribs or slits in the leather where you might have been cut. You shiver, thinking about what his hand going down your leg would have meant had you not been yanked off the street and thrown into the back of a moving van.

Your mind struggles not to go there, “Oh... you know, the usual. Threats on my life, a little manhandling.” His jaw clenches. You wonder where his mind is struggling not to go. “Apparently, word on the street says you’ve got a thing for me, Bats.”

It wasn’t new word either.

Back when you and Batman had first started your game with no name, no one had bat an eye at how you always managed to slip away. He had come a long way from being Gotham’s fearsome street brawler to someone people almost called a hero. Mercy was his thing, now. Violence when necessary.

But then your encounters got a lot less coincidental. You could even say you and Batman were friends sometimes, when the situation called for it. And then one kiss too close to the lips to call innocent had changed everything. It still didn’t have a name, but sometimes it felt a little too close to- “Is that why they took you?” Batman grunts, fixing his arm around your waist despite your legs regaining feeling. You supposed he didn’t need to know that.

“That’s what I gathered. Though I’m worried that they figured out our little hiding place. Who knows what they’ve seen,” you giggle, humorlessly, because it feels less embarrassing than actually thinking about it, “might ruin my reputation.”

Batman squints at you. Then he bends, swooping your legs up into the air before you could protest, and begins marching you out of the abandoned warehouse.

“I’m serious, Bats. They barely scratched me.” You argue, but it’s weak enough that he doesn’t stop checking you over for something imperceptible. At the very least, he’s brought you somewhere with a view.

You and the Bat had found each other on rooftops mostly. They were the best places to hide because it was only you and him that ever scanned for each other there. Alleyways had been too easy to stumble into, and old buildings had too many places for others to hide away in, so rooftops it became. You two had picked a favorite after a while of jumping from one to another, an insurance company with a great view over the water, but that had since been compromised.

Now you were looking over a junkyard. Not nearly as romantic.

The Bat looks up at you, kneeling over your reclined body, caught in the act of staring. He appears a bit sheepish about it now. It always felt to you like when you two met with one thing on your minds, he was the Batman you knew, but sometimes... someone else shown through. The man under the mask, maybe. A timid, self-conscious thing that seemed to take back over when his passion burned too bright. “Are you really alright?” He asks, eyes shifting from yours to your body and back to your eyes again.

“If I tell you I’ve been through way worse, would that help?”

He frowns.

You switch tactics, “If I tell you... I’m grateful that it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, thanks to you, would that help?”

Somehow, he frowns deeper.

You toss a leg over his until he’s forced back onto his ass, catching your waist in his big hands that instantly spread out, feeling for as much of you as possible on instinct. Even as his eyes go wide at your forwardness, he locks you to him.

Your hands reach up to cup his face, thumbs brushing over his bottom lip, “Spit it out, Bats,” you whisper against his mouth, the cold air attempting to carry your breath away, “something’s bothering you.”

If it wasn’t for the cowl, you were sure there’d be a furrow in his forehead that even your fingers couldn’t work out.

You know to give him a moment to figure out what he wants to say. He was a man of few words, your bat, but he always chose them carefully.

His pink lips open and close a few times, struggling around the words. You urge them out with your hands falling to cup his neck. His hands grip you that much tighter, squeezing, “I hate that they touched you.”

“It wasn’t even that bad-”

“I know, I... I know. But I hate it. That anyone’s ever touched you like that when...” He goes from looking up at you to following down the lines of your body, voice falling away. You sneak two fingers underneath his chin and force him to look back into your eyes again, steely in expression even as your fingers tremble. He doesn’t fight it. He leans into you, sinks into you, and had he been a little more gone he might’ve knocked you both over.

You press your mouths close enough that the cold air has no room to steal your breath from him again, “When what?”

He’s a work in progress. You have to remind yourself of that when he forgoes the words that would’ve set alight something in the pit of your stomach and meets you, lips to lips. Hands at your hips turn into arms hugging you taut against him, so hard you barely have the room to keep cupping his face without him crushing the air out of you.

You’re too far away—you’re sure he’s thinking it, the little whine of frustration in the back of his throat when he cranes his neck up for more of your mouth as you tease him tells you as much—and so he rockets forward until you’re flat against the rooftop and he’s looming over you. You know there’s more to it than just the pent up need, the reason you both always find each other outside of gang deals and jewelry heists. It scares you a little. It excites you, too.

You don’t know who is under the mask. This stranger is squeezing and kneading your flesh, holding himself up only on his knees so he doesn’t break you, moaning your name into your mouth because he knows you. He’s seen your face beneath your mask. He’s seen your home. He’s seen you cry. He’s seen more than you’ve seen of him, and that terrifies you. That would’ve sent a younger you running.

And a younger you wouldn’t have known what to do with a man who wanted you this badly, who didn’t make your skin crawl when he laid his hands on you. Batman was utterly obsessed with you. You’d known that since the night you first met him. All it had ever done is make you keep coming back for more.

“For the record,” you work the words out between his fervent kissing, barely making coherent sounds when he’s so insistent on shutting you up, “I only like when you touch me too.”

He gasps into your mouth, as if appalled that you’d say something so clearly meant to work him up even more, but he moves his mouth to unexplored territory in case you want to say something else. He has seen so much of you, and yet he stays nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck where your neckline doesn’t stop him. He could easily unhook the belt around your throat, tug down your zipper, and see more. You want him to, even.

But he doesn’t. He waits and asks for it.

Your hand rests at the back of his cowl, cradling it. Your fingers wrap around one of the ears and you feel his kisses slow. Soon, his eyes meet yours again as he hovers.

Your nails absently drag down the scruff of his jaw to where the cowl meets his throat. Your other hand works off your own mask. He’s still staring down at you.

Let me see you. You could ruin it all by just asking.

He shocks you for the second time tonight. His hand leaves your waist and eclipses the one on his cowl where your fingers had begun to slip past the neck, holding it there. It was almost as if he’d heard your thoughtless request. There were a few beats that passed between you on that rooftop, never breaking eye contact.

Your trance was only broken when he brought both hands to his cowl. You didn’t know if it was the sudden movement that hit you, or the feeling that you were asking for something much greater than you were even aware, but you stopped him before he could move even further and brought him back down to kiss you. It took a moment, but he’d melted back into you, hands falling away to your waist once again.

This game was starting to name itself.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @moonlightreader649

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne one shot #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites

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beyond-abyss · 1 year

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Comedy for Charity (8-31-21)

Jason Todd knows the Comedy for Charity event he’s hosting is a bad idea. Gotham is not a city for clowning around. And yet, as he pulls on his suit jacket, Jason smiles at his terrible, awful, wonderful idea.

For weeks as Jason planned and advertised the event, the whole family tried to talk him out of it. “We need to take back laughter,” Jason told them. “One freakshow shouldn’t ruin humor for the whole city.” Dick was confused that Jason of all people would want anything to do with humor. Tim told him it was stupid to host an event that the Joker would most definitely crash, endangering innocent citizens. “Well then, all of us should be in attendance so that nothing goes wrong,” Jason replied.

Bruce simply squinted at Jason and stated, “You’re up to something.”

So of course, the entire BatFamily was attending the comedy night, heads on a swivel, suits concealed beneath tuxedos and dresses. Jason strolls with confidence onstage to welcome the guests, crack a joke about security being tighter than Nightwing’s leotard, and introduce the first act. To no one’s surprise, and yet accompanied by several screams, the Joker emerges from the curtains. Joker slams a huge mallet into Jason’s head, sending him to the floor at Joker’s feet, right at the edge of the stage. Gasps erupt and the crowd tries to flee, but all the doors are locked and blocked by guffawing goons.

The BatFamily slip under tables and into dark corners to change, finding to their delight that the room was organized with plenty of alcoves for privacy. Joker begins to give a speech about how he is the only comedian worth listening to, just as infuriated by Jason’s ad campaign as he knew the freak would be. The Bats leap out and take on the goons, and Joker immediately grabs Jason Todd up from the stage floor. He holds a gun to Jason as he kneels, grinning, and catches the Bats’ collective attention. Before anyone can make a move, Jason grips one of the swords in the tragedy/comedy plaque at the edge of the stage and, in one fluid motion, spins, decapitating the Joker in front of everyone.

The grinning head hits the stage with a thump and continues to roll, trailing blood across the wood. Everything is silent after the last goon’s grunt ends abruptly with a fist to the face. Then, one by one, the formerly panicked public begin to come out of their shock. One woman near Batman begins to clap. Then an elderly man in the corner joins her. Soon most of the people are clapping as Jason stands, heart racing, bloody sword in-hand on the stage. “That son-of-a-bitch is finally dead!” someone shouts. The police come in as the BatFamily help get the doors open. Gotham is free.

There is no trial. Jason Todd, elusive ward of Bruce Wayne, is heralded as the city hero. Everyone in attendance at the comedy night saw the young man kill the Joker in self-defense. For weeks Jason is interviewed on talk shows. “Were you afraid? How did you have the courage? Did you think something like this would happen?”

“I set out to try and help Gotham reclaim the joy that Joker had robbed us of by tainting comedy. I invited the Bats, the protectors of this city, to make sure Joker wouldn’t be tempted to ruin the event. I guess I just stepped up when they couldn’t,” Jason replies seriously. “I was only able to do what I had to do because I knew the Bats had my back. I knew I had to protect my family.”

“Bruce Wayne? Your adoptive father? And how does he feel about you being this city’s newest hero?”

“Let’s ask him,” Jason smiles, and points out Bruce Wayne in the audience.

Bruce comes on and sits beside Jason, amidst audience cheers. He seems relaxed and friendly, but Jason knows Bruce’s body language tells a different story of tension. “Bruce Wayne. Your foundation has done a lot for this city over the years,” the interviewer begins. “How does it feel to see one of your good deeds, adopting Jason here, pay off? He’s a hero! How do you feel about that?”

Bruce clears his throat and puts a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder. “My son has done something that a lot of people wished for. And while I am proud that he defended himself and saved lives, I can’t help but be sad that it came at the cost of him taking a life.” Jason and Bruce’s eyes meet, and for a long moment neither of them says a thing. “As for your second question,” Bruce says, not taking his eyes off Jason, “my son has always been a hero to me.”

#red hood #batfamily

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Best Of Us

Batfamily x M!Reader

Word Count: 3,035 Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: And here we are with a Batbrother fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t an inferiority complex. Not really. He wasn’t prone to anger or any of the other symptoms listed under it—and he checked. Multiple times. But there was something about being the only non-vigilante in his family of vigilantes that made him feel inadequate compared to the rest. Bruce had the Justice League, Dick and Jason had their own fantastic groups that saved the day, and Tim and Damian were still in school, but even they had their groups too. Hell, even Alfred still had contacts from his days in MI-5. And yet, he had none of the skills his brothers or father had, no extensive martial arts training, master detective skills, or weapon mastery. He was completely normal—or maybe abnormal in this case. And on some level, he resented that he couldn’t be like his family—maybe he did have an inferiority complex.

***

The greatest thing in (Y/N)’s mind about still being allowed to live at home was that no matter what, there was always food around to eat—Alfred saw to it that every growing man in the house had enough to eat—that being said, their grocery bills were outrageouslyexpensive.

He balanced his tablet in one hand, the other hand adjusting the tie around his neck as he stepped into the kitchen, quick to raise the tablet in time to avoid whacking his youngest brother in the head.

“Morning,” he greeted, taking his seat at the table, just after Jason’s. A chorus of tired, ‘mornings’ came back at him and he quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, loving the enthusiasm this morning, guys.”

Jason snorted and propped his chin on his palm, watching (Y/N) for a moment. “I seriously don’t understand how you’re always so chipper in the morning.”

He huffed a laugh and took a sip of the coffee that Alfred set down. “Someone has to be the ray of sunshine in this group of gray clouds.” (Y/N) cast a glance at Dick who was shoveling eggs into his mouth. “And it seems like our eldest is busy feeding his bottomless pit.” Dick was fast to shoot him a glare, that he returned with a smile.

Just then, Tim trudged into the kitchen in an oversized hoodie and plopped down in his seat, immediately shoving the plate in front of him to drop his head onto the table.

“Jesus Christ, you guys,” (Y/N) sighed, flicking at his tablet for a moment. “You’ve seriously gotta take a day off to recuperate.”

“What do you think we do during the day?” Dick retorted, taking a swig of milk.

“Okay I think you’re confusing the entire day with the first half,” he reasoned. “When I say take a day off, I mean the whole twenty-four hours.” He glanced at everyone, and the only person who seemed to not be tired was Alfred, and that’s partly because (Y/N) believed he was immortal. “You guys are gonna run yourselves into the ground,” he said. “I just don’t think—”

“We know what we are doing, (Y/N),” Damian interrupted with a glare. “We know our limits better than you do.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head. This conversation had happened many times before and it wasn’t anything new.

“I’m not saying I know them better than you Damian, I’m simply saying that you guys should take a day to relax so that something doesn’t happen on the job that you can’t control.”

(Y/N) glanced at his father. “Dad, c’mon, you know I’ve got a point.”

Bruce hummed and flipped the page of the newspaper. “So does Damian.” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and nodded. “You don’t have to worry so much, (Y/N). We know what we can handle.”

He stared at Bruce for a moment then scowled. “I don’t even know why I bother,” he muttered, and Damian was fast to chase his comment.

“I don’t know why you bother either. You’ve never once experienced what we do every night.”

(Y/N) met his youngest sibling’s glare. “Just because I don’t stick my neck out for each person in this city night after night doesn’t mean that I don’t know what it’s like to be exhausted.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you know what it’s like to be exhausted from blood loss because you’ve been stabbed or shot? Or to be exhausted from saving the lives of innocent people? You do?”

“I—” (Y/N)’s mouth opened, then he snapped it shut and looked away with a darkened expression, tasting something sour in his mouth. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought,” Damian finalized, and in the wake of the uncomfortable tension, a cellphone went off.

Everyone started looking for theirs, but (Y/N) muttered, “It’s mine.”

He picked it up and put on a cheerful voice. “Good morning Angela…yes, I just got the floor plan…” he tapped at the screen on his tablet. “Do me a favor and move the people from table eight to table three. Mr. Robinson is better friends with Mrs. Grace and will certainly give us a warmer atmosphere in that area.”

(Y/N) paused and listened, then he stood from the table and pushed his chair in. “Let me get to the office and we can situate the rest of the guests for tonight…alright, see you soon. Bye.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call, then took the black backpack that Alfred was holding to him. “Thanks Alfred.”

“Of course, Master (Y/N). Have a pleasant day at work.”

He huffed a laugh, but it was anything but amused. “I have to give a speech tonight in front of the entire company and three different magazines.” He glanced at Bruce. “Think you’ll be able to attend tonight? It’d mean a lot to me.” Bruce grunted, his way of telling (Y/N) that he’d try, but to not hope for a miracle.

It was fine, he was used to parentless ceremonies and events. He cleared his throat and shrugged on the backpack, making his way to the garage door.

“See you guys later.”

***

He’d given a few speeches in his short twenty-four years, and while he’d never say he was an expert on public speaking, he did know his way around a podium. That being said, every time he had to do a speech, he felt like vomiting—nerves he chocked it up to.

(Y/N) cast a glance around the packed ballroom, quietly groaning at the massive amount of people. His own table was empty, save for Angela and thank god for him, Lucius. He couldn’t help but frown at the name tags sitting in front of the empty seats.

“Wondering where the rest of the gang is?”

He met Lucius’ eyes and gave a halfhearted smile. “I’d like to think they took my advice and took the night off but…something tells me that the night called to them.” His lips pulled downwards. “I’m not going to act like this is a surprise, Lucius. I couldn’t even get them to show up for my university graduation.”

(Y/N) smiled and stood up, grabbing the notecards beside him. “What makes you think I could get them to show up to this?” He left the table and moved to the side of the stage, waiting for his name to be called. His fingers briefly shifted to his chest, feeling his heart fluttering beneath chest, nerves causing his breathing to come in short bursts. (Y/N) shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting a pleasant smile cross his face as the presenter called his name, and walked up the steps.

The bright flash of photography momentarily blinded him, but he smiled through it. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight at the Centennial Inside Alliance Award Ceremony.” He flashed everyone a million-watt smile. “My name is (Y/N) Wayne, and as many of you know, I am a senior editor for Inside Alliance. It is my pleasure tonight to recognize Inside Alliance’s top writer for the year.”

(Y/N) glanced around the room, making sure to catch the eyes of the hundreds of guests.

“Inside Alliance was created on August fourteenth, nineteen-twenty by a group of immigrant mothers and fathers who wanted to bring knowledge of their homes and cultures to the rest of world. Some of those countries being Germany, Romania, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Israel, and many, many others.”

“The production of their valuable time and extensive care created one of the greatest magazines that is still in business today, that brings attention to the worldwide issues that many groups face, while still connecting to their roots of educating the public on cultures and groups.”

He smiled. “It is with my upmost honor that I congratulate and introduce Miss Flora Janaliyeva, one of our newest and greatest writers that has joined Inside Alliance, and the winner of tonight’s Inside Alliance Award.”

(Y/N) turned to the side and grinned at Flora as she ascended the stairs. Her long black hair was braided down the length of her back and she wore a bright and floral-patterned gown. She reached (Y/N) and he reached with his right, shaking her hand, and handed her the glass award with the other.

“Miss Janaliyeva, it is with honor and congratulations that I give you this award for your excellent talent and recognition of ability from Inside Alliance.”

She smiled brightly and accepted the award. “Thank you, Mister Wayne, the honor is mine.” He nodded politely once more and descended the stairs as she began her speech, quietly taking his place back at the table.

“Well done, Mister Wayne,” Lucius smiled and (Y/N) let out a deep breath.

“I’m just surprised I was able to do that without stuttering or panicking.” He glanced over, smile lowering slightly. “Lucius, are you alright?”

The older man dabbed at his forehead and nodded, though when he breathed, it sounded labored. “I’m fine,” he assured, then reached up to rub at his chest.

(Y/N) shifted. “I don’t think you’re alright Lucius.” He leaned over. “Are you having chest pain?”

“I—yes,” he grit out then met (Y/N)’s gaze. “My chest is getting—tight and I…and I—”

He started to slump over and (Y/N) shot to his feet, eyes widening with fear. “Lucius!” The yell startled the crowd and Flora, who all looked over at the two.

(Y/N) pulled the older man back and pressed his ear to his chest, listening. He pulled away and yelled, “Someone call an ambulance! I think he’s having a heart attack!”

He helped Lucius to the floor and immediately pressed his palms to the man’s chest, starting compressions. His breath came in panicked spurts and he kept looking at Lucius’ face.

“Just hand on Lucius. You’re going to be okay.” (Y/N) kept at it until the EMT’s arrived and they knelt beside them.

“Let us take over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, too afraid that if he did, Lucius would die, but one of the EMT’s placed a hand on his shoulder while the other slide their hands underneath (Y/N)’s.

“Son, we’ll take it from here.”

(Y/N)’s arms went slack, and he let the medic pull him away, watching as they took over and started moving him onto the stretcher.

“Please, save him. He’s—he’s friends with my family I—”

The medic nodded firmly. “We’ll do all we can.”

And all (Y/N) remembered was someone ushering him into a taxi heading for the hospital.

***

The first people that arrived were Lucius’ family who were grateful for (Y/N)’s actions, but the young man could barely grimace as they disappeared into the hospital room, leaving him sitting outside, his head in his hands. Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought back to what the ER doctor told him.

***

“Mister Fox is in a stable condition, but you have to understand, Mister Wayne, his heart is very weak.”

“But—but he’ll be okay right?”

“Based on Mister Fox’s past conditions, he’s verging into heart failure. His heart is too weak to keep up with what the body needs.”

“And…and what does his body need at this point?”

“At this point? A new heart.”

***

He sucked in a breath and fought to keep the sob from escaping his throat, just as heard, “(Y/N)!”

His head shot up and he saw his father and older brothers coming down the hallway. (Y/N) clambered to his feet.

“Dad I—” he started, but cut off as he choked on a sob, and Bruce pulled him into a hug, holding (Y/N) as he sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I tried my best but—”

“Shh,” Bruce hushed, a firm, but gentle hand coming to rest at the back of his son’s neck. “You did all that you could.”

He pulled back and wiped his face. “But Lucius needs a new heart, and I don’t know what to do. I should’ve seen this coming. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few weeks and I—”

“(Y/N),” his father said firmly, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He met Bruce’s eyes. “This wasn’t your fault.”

His libs wobbled and he whispered, “But if I were like you guys, I would’ve seen something earlier. I didn’t and now…” sighing, he added, “and now Lucius needs a new heart, or he’ll die.”

Bruce’s sigh was heavier than (Y/N)’s and it made his chest heavy. “We’ll get Lucius a new heart, (Y/N).”

He lowered his head and lamented, “I’m sorry, dad.”

His father squeezed his shoulder then lead him towards Dick and Jason. “Take (Y/N) back home for the night. I’ll stay here with Lucius’ family.”

They nodded and led their brother down the hall, arms firm across his shoulders in a comforting way. They didn’t say anything, knowing that there wasn’t much to offer, but their support was enough for (Y/N), even if he felt horrible.

***

For being the World’s Greatest Detective, his son was evidently the World Best Hider, because it took Bruce a long time to finally find (Y/N). He stepped quietly over to the form sitting on the ledge and took a seat beside him, silently gazing out at the backyard. A bottle appeared in his vision and he focused on it as the smell of whiskey reached his nose.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked but took the bottle anyway.

“Jason gave it to me earlier.” He watched Bruce take a sip. “Figured it fit the occasion.”

Bruce chuckled. “That sounds like Jason’s way of dealing with a problem.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth, simply enjoying the calm around the manor and night.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Bruce suddenly said.

(Y/N) sighed and set the bottle down, kicking his legs out off the roof. “Lucius said he hadn’t been feeling well recently. And I just passed it up to getting older.” He looked at his father. “If I’d actually paid attention, then I would’ve seen the symptoms.”

“Do you actually know what the symptoms of heart failure and heart attack are?”

“I…no, not really.”

“Then you couldn’t’ve known.” He looked at (Y/N). “Lucius works in my office every day. If anyone should’ve known and seen it, it should’ve been me.” Bruce shook his head. “But you did everything you could at the awards ceremony, and that saved Lucius’ life tonight. You did good.”

“I could’ve done better.” (Y/N) muttered. “I should’ve. I’m your son and I’m practically useless to the family but—”

“Woah, woah,” Bruce interrupted, brows furrowing as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

(Y/N) turned to him. “I am the least useful person in this family. I mean you and the guys are these crazy intelligent, vigilante master detectives and I’m just me.” He wiped away a tear that fell from his eye. “I can’t speak seven different languages or solve murder cases with a single strand of DNA left at the scene of a crime. Hell, I can’t even throw a punch.” He sighed heavily. “The last time I tried, I broke my hand.”

Meeting his father’s gaze, he said, “I just want to be like you guys.” He lowered his head. “I just want to be normal and not an outlier in the family.”

Bruce simply stared at him for a long moment, and while he’d never been privy to let his emotions show on his face, he let them this time—shock and shame. Shame that he didn’t see his greatest achievement suffering.

“(Y/N).”

He didn’t look up at first, but then he did. “Yes sir?”

“How long have you felt like this?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Forever?”

His father sighed. “Son, I…I never wanted you to be like us.”

He gaped at Bruce. “What?”

“(Y/N), every person in this family is driven to do what we do because of our childhoods. You’re the only one who doesn’thave any skeletons in his closet.” He stared at him. “We wish every day that we could be like you and not a day goes by that we don’t think that.”

“I…what?” he floundered, absolutely bewildered at the idea that his father and brothers wanted to be the most boring person ever. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is.”

“No.” (Y/N) huffed. “I’m me. I’m plain and boring, work a nine to five job me. I mean I write for a magazine for god sakes! And you guys save the world!”

Bruce chuckled. “And what we wouldn’t give to be just a bit more normal like you, son.” He shrugged. “You think you’re inferior because you’re not a vigilante, but you’re the one thing that keeps us all sane. You give us the perspective of someone who isn’t what we are. Of someone who’s completely normal.”

He reached over and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “And being normal? Being you?” Bruce squeezed firmly. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and though he felt tears in his eyes, he didn’t blink, didn’t let them fall. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud.”

Bruce smiled heartfully. “You do, (Y/N). Everyday. Because you’ve always been the best of us.”

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fishtre · 3 years

Note

Oh lord your work has honestly has got to be one of the things that truly cemented me into being a Jason fan when I started to enter the fandom. I just wanted to ask; Has Dick or Bruce ever seen Jason (or even Jessie; im a fuckibg lesbian for her) while they were at a low point? Or have they ever seen something in Jay's behavior that seriously made them stop and think for a moment?

Oof-!!! o-okay. I wasn't ready for this. So many responsibilities??? Thanks and welcome! XD

*****

> Have they ever seen something in Jay's behavior that seriously made them stop and think for a moment?

This goes for Jay and Femjay

For Dick: No. Dick and Jason aren’t close. They know each other through Bruce who is this deforming prism between them: lingers even in his absence. This + a lack of a relationship = Dick's empathy sleeping where Jason is involved since day one. Meanwhile, Jason just doesn't trust Dick nor expect his sympathy as the replacement goldfish Bruce picked up (or the outlaw Jason later become). They avoid/ignore rather than seek/antagonize each other (unless the situation demands violence). Hence, it’s not granted Dick could recognize the moment for what it was and not chalk it up as “classic Jason”.

As for Bruce: short answer is YES. Their whole history is paved with moments where Bruce has (usually late) epiphanies about Jason and himself. And this’ pretty much how Jason got benched after a rapist went flying through a balcony to meet the concrete twenty floors lower.

More to say, so long AF rant below the cut. Mostly about canon interpretation I use for characterisation + some side notes about Femjay at the very end. The essential is above tho.

Starts with “Batman the Cult”:

Aka Batman goes missing while investigating an underground sect that kidnaps homeless people. When Jason finally finds him, Bruce is a drugged, tortured, half-raving mad man on a pile of corpses who've been living in the sewers for weeks. Jason tries to bring Batman to his senses and at the surface but he's so damaged in and out that Robin has to guide him back home like a lost child. Eventually they get surrounded by the cult members. After a "it was an honor to meet and fight with you sir" Robin got outflanked. Begs Bruce to help as a crowd of drugged hobos tries to literally tear him apart. Jason is like 14-15yo and it takes these three "adult fears" in a row (child going “yolo” + child protecting the powerless adult + watching child get almost killed) for Bruce to finally fight back and save the day.

Which brings us to the following event: The rapist and the balcony :p. Bruce can't prove if Jason committed the crime or not so the act in itself isn't the point. Jason admitting he didn't try to catch the falling rapist, no feeling remorse to potentially causing someone's death is what alarms Bruce here.

Between the Cult and this, for me it's definitely when Bruce first gets blessed with many epiphanies; 1) Jason’s attitude toward death, his or the crooks' lives, his soldier-like devotion to Bruce during the Cult is alarming. 2) Turns out Jason have different opinions regarding Justice, the right to redemption or vigilantism. Opinions that are pretty irreconcilable with Bruce’s. 3) He's not shaking the grip Gotham has on the boy at all (his reason or excuse to take Jason in at first.) 4) Jason's indulging Bruce and playing by his rules because love and respect (he hopes), not because Jason understands or believes in Bruce's methods or share his creeds. 5) He may had been emotionally compromised when he took in Jason (as Dick accuses him to be) and had been making thing worse for the boy, failing Jason as a mentor/guardian and an adult.

As the “greatest detective”, it weighs on Bruce that he ultimately failed Jason in knowing the boy and providing what he needs; his guilt and irresponsibility catching up to him all at once. From Bruce’s perspective, this has cost a man's life and Jason’s “innocence”, simply because he (or anyone) didn’t manage to see Jason for who he is; a more troubled child than he or Dick ever was, and that despite having all the clues in the world to figure it out. In result Jason and Robin are benched. Jason dies before Bruce can find what he should do. That's it. UTRH could be seen as Jason at a low point I guess. But special mention to when Bruce "walks away" to not choose between Red Hood and Joker before aiming a batarang at RH's gun, Jason sits down in silence and simply gives up; resigned to wait for the bomb to blow up, not caring if Bruce or Joker get away or die with him. A stark contrast to how determined and mouthy he's been until then. Jason "accepts" what he sees as Bruce's choice: that Joker is more or equally as important to him than Jason. Bruce has to pull him away from the worst of the blast so it's fair to say that he must notice. It doesn't manage to make Bruce stops and thinks, but the conclusion to that story on Bruce's side this time is that while Jason is back and alive, the event in UTRH achieved to kill the boy he knew and lost.

As for femjay, here a bit more trivia just for her AU:

Dick first thought after discovering that new Robin was a tomboy, whom Bruce also addresses or presents as one 90% of the time does alarms him a bit in the midst of his confusion. But when he half-questions Jason about it, she mocks him about this incident and shuts him off with a "none of your beeswax". Fuming, Dick brushes it off as being some kind of pervert game between Bruce and Jason, be it Bruce trying to replace and hurt him, introverted misogyny, lesbian culture or whatever. None of his beeswax. He doesn't look deeper into it. He leaves Gotham and only comes back for her "funeral". As a general rule, looking into Jason- related stuff and not minding his business when she is involved, always ends up biting Dick in the arse.

Bruce never really brushes the subject of what Jason may have done or not in order to survive on the streets for two years or why her parents gave her a boy name. He takes what Jason gives him on this (which is little) and doesn't pry into it further since Jason's medical checkups are fairly good and promising. Jason is a girl who prefers to blend in as a boy and Bruce plays along, secretly relieved because Bruce has no idea how to deal with a pre-teen/teenage girl. So yeah; he's scared and this is a blessing for him and she looks happy like that. Bruce avoids using pronouns to avoid confusion himself (which is partly why Dick got so confused by Jason's gender when they first met).

Nobody but Alfred realizes she starts corseting herself with bandages and a sports bra by the end of second year at the manor. Or that she buys pads and razors on the dozen with who knows what money since she asks for nothing. Old-fashioned Wayne's British butler is barely more at ease with Jason's womanhood than Bruce, but Al does take the initiative to give her an allowance so she can buy underwears when she first arrives. He simply raises that allowance to cover her new needs with a cryptic and awkward explanation. But because Jason doesn't know how to choose a bra she sticks to what she knows, aka; keeps wearing a sports bra and flattening her chest as best as she can while residing at the Manor. By the time she comes back as Red Hood, Jason is too curvy to hide so she doesn't. Also; Talia... While she still was only trying to use Jason against or to win Bruce back, she's appalled to learn what Jason used to do to her breasts, and took pity of her. She forcefully take Jason out shopping for her first actual bra at 17-18 yo and teach her some more basics.

#reply #jason and the curse of the anime tiddies AU #aye 2/10 answers answered #( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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thr-333 · 3 years

Text

Drastic Measures- Part 4

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Flowers~

Would some people use this prompt for romance? yes

Am I people? no

Ao3

First< Previous > Next

-------------------

“Isn’t it amazing Tiki?” Marinette exclaims throwing the curtains open.

“No,” Adrien groans rolling over preferring it to glaring at the light.

“Just look at that garden,” Marinette sighs resting on the window sill.

“Wow, plants,” Plagg snuggles up in the blankets more.

“I’m going down before breakfast,” Marinette darts away from the window throwing on clothes, “Adrien do you want to come?”

“Raring to go,” Adrien yawns still under the covers, “Meet you down there,”

Marinette giggles leaving the room, and Adriens snores behind her.

“Someone’s enjoying not being on a schedule,” Tiki flew beside her, both confident that cameras would catch the Kwami anyway, “And I never once saw you this ready to go to school,”

“It’s much easier not having to juggle everything at school plus Ladybug and that bed?” Marinette sighs at the very thought, “The hero of Paris has not slept that well in a long while let me tell you,”

“I’m glad Marinette you deserve a break,” Tikki hugs her cheek.

“We both do Tiki,” They could use a long holiday after this was all over if it ever was.

“Miss duping-Cheng,”

“Alfred!” Marinette jumps, hoping tiki got out of sight in time, “Sorry! Didn’t see you there I was just I’m talking to um...”

“I’m well aware miss Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette's blood runs cold, “However you might have a tad more luck talking with the flower out there instead of the dead ones in that vase there,”

“Flowers in the… oh! Yes ah, very good point thank you, Alfred,”

“And if you wouldn’t mind visiting the rose bush at the back of the west wing they could use your magic touch,”

“Of course- I’m mean magic! What magic I don’t know what you're talking about!” She should probably just leave, “West wing you say? where’s that?”

“To the west miss,”

“Ah! Yes well, that would make sense,” Marinette cringes already halfway down the hall, “Thank you, Alfred!”

Marinette races down the hallway before more questions could come. She reaches the garden in record time only slowing down when the flowers came into view.

“Oh Tiki they're gorgeous,” Marinette let her fingers brush gently over the rose petals, “I’m not sure what Alfred is talking about,”

Marinette sits on the neatly trimmed grass taking out her sketchbook. Tiki darts from flower to flower leaving a trail of brightly blooming flowers in her wake.

Marinette is finishing off the details of a flower petal based skirt when a solid force barrels her over.

“What the- oh hi!” Marinette giggles as a wet snout pushes in her face, “Who are you, you handsome boy?”

Marinette scratches at the Great Danes ears giving herself enough space to sit back up. She laughs again showering the canine with affection. She catches a figure standing off to the side of the rose bush. Must be one of Bruce Wayne’s sons. she knows enough from second-hand gossip and the odd news article to take a guess that this one's Damian the youngest considering he should be about her age. He’s looking at them softly, must be his dog. Strange that from most of what she had heard he was cold, well except for Lila's retellings but those could hardly be believed. But still, he was cute-- Marinette swiftly shakes her head to get rid of that train of thought.

“Hi!” Marinette waves, one hand still occupied patting, something in Damian's expression snaps turning cold and harsh, “You're Damian right?”

“As if you didn’t know,” He spits walking over, Marinette raises a brow.

“I took a guess,” She shrugs, turning her attention back to the dog when he starts licking her face, “But I don’t know who this is, what’s his name?”

“Tt Titus,”

“Hello, Titus aren’t you just beautiful?” Marinette scratches his head as he lets out a bark.

“Titus here,” At Damian's command Titus leaves Marinette to sit by his side, “You interrupted out morning walk,”

Actually, you interrupted me. Marinette keeps the thought to herself trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. An act maybe? for public appearances. Marinette knew Adrien took on a persona for his fans.

“Sorry, lovely place to have a walk tho,” Marinette stands gazing wistfully at the flowers, “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

“Leave,”

“Excuse me?” Marinette reels back scowling at him now. He meets her scowl with one that would have been threatening if she hadn't donned a spotted mask years ago. Seeing her not back down he moves forward, Marinette holds her position.

“You’re only going to ruin everything so leave,” His gaze in her is steely, filled with resentment. Marinette meets it silently not wanting to insult her host's son, someone out of the two of them had to be polite. Damian huffs again brushing past her with Titus at his heels.

Marinette huffs as well heading in the opposite direction Tiki hiding away in her bag. She’s ready to head back to the room to vent to Adrien or Plagg whoever’s more awake. She startles as Dick appears next to her.

“Hi, Marinette,” Marinette doesn't have enough time to wipe the look off her face, “What’s wrong?”

“Just met Damian,”

“That explains it,” Tim says, crossing the hall and disappearing into another room in time to avoid Dick's glare.

“He told me to leave! And that I would only ruin everything,” Marinette lets it out, confident that her frustration wouldn’t even register to Hawkmoth in a city like Gotham, “And I’m pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the rose garden,”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that,” Dick says cheerfully guiding her towards her room, “Damian's just not great at expressing emotions I’m sure he didn’t mean to offend,”

I’m pretty sure he did

But she didn’t have time to argue, Dick was already pushing her gently down the hall to her room.

“Don’t worry about it ok?”

“Ok,”

Marinette then proceeded to go to her room and worry about it.

—-

Dick waves Marinette off with a smile it drops when she disappears down the hall. He ducks into the room Tim just went. Tim coming out of the secret passage just as he did.

“Wouldn’t go down there Damian's throwing a temper tantrum,” Tim warns holding a laptop and a cup of coffee that might be fused to him at this point.

“I’m sure he’s not,” Dick pats his shoulder, moving past before the passage closes.

“Whatever I’m going to order more training dummies,”

They part ways Dick hurrying down to the bat cave. Sure enough, Damian was there cutting down training dummies one after the other.

“Hey,” Dick calls leaning against a shelf on the edge of the training mat, “What’s up?”

Damian huffs turning to slice up another target.

“Why are you mad at Marinette?” Dick presses, “She seems sweet,”

“Don't trust an assassin,”

Ah so that’s what it is

" She seems innocent,” Then again so did her mother and that woman had proven to be terrifying.

“She was trained to,” Damian stops taking the water Dick offers him, “Don’t trust her for a second, she’ll turn in you,”

—-

“You take that back!!” Marinette beats Adrien over the head with a pillow, “I’ll take your miraculous and hand it over to Hawkmoth myself if you ever say that again!”

“Are you telling me you didn’t find it punny?” Adrien cracks up, getting a face full of pillow.

“Adrien!”

“Alright alright,” he surrenders, and Marinette backs off, “So what did he do next?”

“He told me to leave! Right to my face!” Marinette recites, falling back on the bed, “That’s just so rude- no not rude, mean ,”

“Mmhmm,”

“ What ,”

“No offense Mari we’re but you do this a lot,” Adrien rolls over resting on his stomach.

“Do what?” Marinette crosses her arms, cautious of where this was going.

“Dislike people the first time meeting them,”

“Name on-“

“Kagami,” Well yes not like I'm about to share my reason.

“Mhmm, how did breaking up with her over text before fleeing the country go by the way?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Adrien face plants into the mattress screaming for a few seconds before popping back up, right as rain, “Lila,”

“I was right about that one,”

“An exception, not the rule,” Adrien waves her off, “Me,”

“You put gum on my seat,” Marinette smirks.

“I did not!” Adrien sits up shouting.

“Sure,” Marinette shugs trying to bait him into changing the topic.

“Anyway, maybe just don’t judge him on this first impression,” Adrien relaxes not falling for the bait, “Maybe it’ll be like when you met me,”

“You're right!” Marinette points, startling him, “Now I just have to wait for it to rain!”

“Wait what? I don't think you got what I meant!” Adrien calls after her as Marinette runs out of the room.

----

No taglist :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #Marinette #miraculous marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette

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unfilteredaj · 3 years

Text

A night out (Rorschach x Reader)

(A/N- This is probably SO OUT OF CHARACTER and it's kind of dumb but I love Rorschach and wanted to write a self-indulgent ficlet)

(Warnings: EXTREMELY corny and self indulgent fluff, Cursing, mention of being followed/a stalker... nothing really that bad tbh.)

---

Rorschach wandered the streets of New York, the crisp chill of the night clearing his head more and more each second. Even though his friends had all been more than welcoming of his couch-surfing, he needed some time away from them. Time without the pressure of a case to solve.

His little bubble of quiet was burst by something odd, to say the least. A girl he'd briefly noticed a minute or two earlier strolled up to him, giving a wave and an excited "Hey!"

She threw her arms around his neck as if he were an old friend. She was wearing a small backpack over a hoodie with a band logo on it and looked no older than her early 20s.

Rorschach froze, confused. He obviously didn't know this girl.

"I am so sorry to just barge up like this but I'm pretty sure I'm being followed. Please just walk me to a bar or something." She whispered, sounding frantic. He looked around, seeing a suspicious looking guy a few hundred feet behind them. Rorschach nodded, playing his part and hugging the girl back. She looped her arm with his as they walked.

…

"What were you even doing out so late? Especially alone?” He asked after a few minutes.

"I dunno. I wanted to see the city at night, I guess. It was kinda dumb to go alone." She laughed, her tension melting. Her giggling strangely reminded Rorschach of the jingling sound her many bracelets and rings made. She un-looped her arm from his, thrusting her hand out for a handshake.

"I'm (Y/N). Thanks for helping me back there."

He returned her handshake, her fiery enthusiasm annoying and a little endearing at the same time.

"Just call me Rorschach." He said gruffly.

She flashed a toothy grin at him. "Pleasure to meet you. So.. where are we going?"

Rorschach shrugged. He didn't really have a destination. "You said to walk you to a bar..."

She groaned dramatically. "That would be so boring, though! A moody, mysterious stranger is far more interesting than a bar. I can't leave now. No way! You're stuck with me. Lets walk and talk a bit more.”

"Fine."

Rorschach let her lead, his own boredom convincing him to stick with this strange woman.

....

"Hey what's with that sign? It pretty neat, and the world IS burning... but why carry it around?" The girl asked after a few minutes of casual conversation that mostly consisted of her talking a lot and Rorschach giving small replies.

He shrugged. "Why deny the truth in the face of Armageddon?" He said rhetorically.

She chuckled, tilting her head at him. She broke into another grin. "Can I hold it?"

Rorschach looked deep in thought for a second, but before he'd thought about it for too long, she grabbed the sign anyway.

He huffed in annoyance and she just stuck her tongue out at him. But he didn't take it back. He instead watched as she twirled it around a few times and admired it.

"You are so weird. I like it!" She said matter-of-factly, handing it back.

Rorschach just rolled his eyes. He propped the sign in the opening of an alley, letting the girl take his hand and drag him along.

"How do you know someone's not gonna steal that thing? Or what if you don't remember where you left it?' She said

"I'll remember, trust me. Everyone knows it's mine."

He noted that she hadn't let go of his hand. He didn't think it meant much, and he didn't really mind, so he didn't pull away. She hummed absent-mindedly as she looked through random store windows.

A few minutes later, they came across an empty park, and the girl let go of his hand, making a beeline for the swings.

She sat, gesturing for him to follow. Under the soft glow of the park lights he could see her more clearly. Her face was flushed, her cheeks a bright pinkish-red from the cold.

“So what’s your story? Do you live here? In the city, I mean?”

Her question seemed innocent enough, but Rorschach knew the whole story seemed more sad than it actually was.

“Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

The girl laughed again…. She was impossibly bubbly. But paired with her unassumingly pretty face, it suited her.

“And you?” Rorschach gave her an opportunity to talk more…listening was easier for him anyway.

“Oh! I’m just visiting for the winter. But…I kind of want to stay longer. There’s so much beneath the surface here… so much to see and do. So many interesting people.” She nudged him.

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use. More like dangerous. Someone like you…this city will tear you apart if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

"....Do you really think the world is ending?" She asked after a long pause.

Rorschach shrugged. "Dunno. Probably. There's so much filth... Bad people doing fucked up stuff..."

"But there are still some good people.... You seem like a good enough guy. I mean, we've been hanging out alone for almost an hour now and you haven't tried anything suspicious. I knew my sixth sense was right."

Her eyes had the same glimmer as a kid telling a friend a secret.

"Sixth sense?" Rorschach asked, his interest piqued.

"Oh, You're suddenly curious for once?" She teased. "I have this sense about people. Like you, for instance. I can tell you're a loner. You think being alone is less complicated. You seem smart, and I think you're a good guy even though you're a bit rough around the edges."

He smiled a little at her observation. It felt strange, but good. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd relaxed like this.

Snow started to fall, a thick veil of white quickly covering the park.

(Y/N) tilted her head back to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

"Let's go get hot cocoa!" She exclaimed, pulling Rorschach from his swing.

"Ok..."

She gripped his hand like an excited kid, pulling him into the nearest 24 hour diner.

....

She giggled as she reached across the table, gently brushing snow from his hair.

"Why?" he muttered, cringing a little.

"Sorry." Her voice retreated with her hand. The red in her cheeks had lifted to a slight pink, but now her cheeks blazed again.

"I'm not really... good with people..." He said. His face showed no shame or remorse. This was just a fact.

"I get it. But.. why help me earlier? Why let me drag you around town all night?" She asked

He stared a her blankly for a long while. Just when she thought he wasn't going to say anything, he answered.

"You needed someone....Maybe I did too." He shrugged, mostly talking to himself.

The Waitress brought them their drinks, And they gladly accepted the warmth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get hot cocoa! Black coffee is for Cops and School teachers running on empty.” The girl laughed.

“You like me. Why?” Rorschach said suddenly.

“Hmm… I dunno. Helping me lose that guy was the first thing…” She Began. “but you seem so confident in yourself. Like you aren’t bothered by anything. But you have these walls up to keep the world out. You seem like someone who needs help coming out of your shell. And besides, don't think you mind the company, or you’d have dropped me off at a bar an hour and a half ago.”

“I don’t have many friends. I’m not friendly or outgoing. I’m kind of a recluse most of the time. But that doesn't bother you. You’re like a tornado of post-teen energy. I can’t really look away at this point.” Rorschach admitted. And it was true. For some reason, she intrigued him.

“You’re adorable. So angsty. Like a ginger Bruce Wayne… just without all of the annoying ‘rich boy’ machismo.” The girl smirked into her mug of cocoa.

It was a strangely fitting assessment, little did she know.

“Adorable?” He looked at his companion as if she’s just spoken another language.

“Oh for sure! It’s funny though. You've got this... weirdly charming look to you.” Her analysis sounded lighthearted and informal, but something in her eyes told Rorschach that it was genuine.

He guessed if he were someone else he’d like her too. She was nice, in an energetic, ditzy sort of way. And he did find her pretty. Before he could reply, (Y/N) had her face pressed against the glass of the window beside her, admiring the snow.

He took the opportunity to change the subject.

"You like the Snow?" He noted.

"I love it. I'm from the south... We never get to see it." She said longingly.

"Maybe if you stay in the city you could see it more often." Rorschach muttered.

Her eyes were practically stars when she turned to smile at him.

"You think I should stay? But I thought you said it was dangerous."

"That was when you didn't know anyone here. You know someone now."

He sipped his coffee, his eyes flicking away from hers for a few long seconds.

“It’s getting kind of late. Whaddaya say, handsome… walk me home?” She said hopefully.

“…Ok.”

They payed for their drinks, and ventured back out onto the icy sidewalk.

(Y/N) grabbed Rorschach’s hand again as they walked. And, once again, he didn’t protest.

She yawned, leaning against him a bit.

“I’ve had the best time. I’m glad I saw you earlier.” She grinned.

“Letting you drag me around town isn’t the worst night I’ve had…” he replied.

A few minutes later, they arrived at an apartment building.

“Well…this is me. Thanks for the nice night.”

She fished a sharpie out of her backpack, grabbing his hand and scribbling her number on it.

“If you ever find yourself bored and want some company, let me know.” She said.

“I will.” He said, his hand suddenly feeling cold when she let go.

After a few seconds of tense silence, she finally balled her fists into the fabric of his coat, bringing him down for a kiss.

It was quick, and sweet… the same as the night they’d just had.

“Take it easy, Rorschach. And call me.”

With that, she gave a small wave as she disappeared inside.

“What the fuck…”

Rorschach repeated the question to himself dozens of times on the way back to Nite Owl’s apartment.

#sorry if it’s super bad #but I FINALLY finished a oneshot #for ONCE.#so I’m proud #rorschach #watchmen

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

VENGEANCE T.D.

Summary: After Jason’s death, Tim was the one person that you could lean on, now more than ever.

Tim x reader and Sister!reader x Jason

Warning: Jason’s death, obviously. swears

A/N: I’m not entirely content with this, might fuck with a part two, who knows.

GIF not mine

Part Two

Word count: 2.6k

Jason Todd didn't hate Tim Drake.

He never hated Tim, he hated Bruce for allowing Tim to be put into the same situation that he was in. Jason never wanted to see another Robin be brutally murdered like he was. He never wanted another opportunity for some innocent kid who was just trying to make good in the world be beaten to death.

Jason did however, hate Bruce for not getting revenge on his behalf. He hated that Bruce never killed the Joker for killing him. That was why he was filled with so much hate towards the Wayne family. He thought he meant enough to Bruce to cross the line for once. Then again, he also thought that you would too.

You were Jason's younger sister, only by just under two years but he acted as if he was your parent half the time. When the two of you got taken in by Bruce, he became even more protective over you - if that was even possible. You were all Jason had for a very long time.

The shit that the two of you had gone through together, the things that you needed to do to survive, well, nothing could break that bond. Nothing besides the Joker.

The Joker took Jason away from you. When Jason found out that your mother was alive, he went on his own. He knew too well that you would want nothing to do with her - the two of you never got along, not that it was very easy to get along with her in the first place.

So, when Jason was on that cold, concrete floor, beaten half to death and blood dripping everywhere, his last thought was that he was glad you never came with him. He was glad that you never had to go through the pain that he did and the death that followed.

You had never felt so much pain in your life. The heartbreak that Jason's death caused you broke you in ways that you didn't think possible. Jason was the only one that was there for you when you needed someone, he was always the person who knew the right things to say, and wouldn't hesitate to get his hands dirty and make someone pay if they dared hurt you.

Jason was the best big brother you could have ever imagined. Losing him, was like losing a piece of yourself. You couldn't take the pain of missing your other half - so, just like Bruce had done, you put every spare moment of time out on the streets. Your mantle of Batgirl was upheld, but your antics more violent.

Bruce saw it, GCPD saw it, even Dick saw it and he barely stepped foot into the manor after his departure and fight with Bruce. However, no one said anything about it. Bruce was just the same, if not worse. His punches became harder, never ending until his victim was barely breathing. So close to crossing the line, but never far enough to not be able to come back.

And then Tim Drake came around.

He somehow figured out Bruce was Batman and that you were Batgirl. He knew that the two of you needed a Robin, someone that would keep you from passing that line for good. So Bruce took him in, he trained Tim and made him the next Robin.

You didn't mind Tim. He was a nice guy - even though you were very rude to him at first. The loss of Jason turned you in to a completely different person. Cold, untrusting, snappy, nothing like you used to be. He knew what had happened and tried his best to make life better for you.

Slowly, you started to warm up to Tim. You saw him less as a replacement to your brother and more of a friend. He didn't want you to think that he replaced Jason, he simply wanted to help to make sure that you and Batman kept your morals that you spent years maintaining.

He was the reason that you never crossed that line. Tim stopped you from killing the Joker. The moment that he popped his out of the twisted shadows he hid within, you were there, beating the ever living hell out of him. All you could see was him beating Jason, an innocent kid. You did this for Jason, to avenge him.

Joker was left in a bloody, beaten, lifeless pulp when you were done with him. Broken ribs, displaced knees, so much blood on his face that he wasn't recognizable. You wanted to kill him, you tried to, but Tim was the one to swoop in the last minute, stopping you from something you would regret for the rest of your life.

You broke down in his arms, crying that your brother was gone and that he was right, killing the Joker wouldn't bring him back. Tim held you as you bawled, promising that he would be there for you, no matter the pain. You just wanted to feel something other than the heartbreak that filled your chest - so Tim changed that.

Instead of grief, he filled you with happiness, love, desire. Upon trying to help you, Tim fell in love with you along the way. He spent hours with you, training to be better, crying on the year death of your brother, anything to distract you from the pain. He was there with you every step of the way.

He was scared to tell you how he felt. Scared that you only saw him as a crutch rather than a lover.

On the night of a Wayne gala, he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. You wore the most gorgeous gown that he had ever seen, or maybe it was just because you were the one in it. So, when the two of you danced, hand in hand and effortless gliding across the ballroom, he ended the dance with a kiss.

You weren't expecting it, but the moment that he had his lips on yours, you completely melted into him. Feelings that you never realized were even there erupted through your whole body, a happiness that you hadn't felt since that day. Tim swept you off your feet, literally.

You were happy with Tim. He brought a smile to your face on the hardest of days. Patrolling became something that you looked forward to again rather than feeling like a chore. You were no longer as violent as you once were, Bruce was slowly feeling the same way. Tim brought a light to both of your lives.

Things finally seemed like they were getting back to a place of normalcy. You could sleep at night without waking up from a nightmare, visit Jason's grave (something that was always too painful to do before Tim), even go into Jason's old room. Things were getting easier, but the pain was still there.

"Batgirl to Robin," you spoke over the comms. It was a pretty normal night on patrol - a few common thugs but nothing major. A new and improved Batgirl suit covered your body - you had finally outgrown the old one.

"Robin."

"How do you feel about a late night sushi date after this?" It was nearing the end of your guys night and you were starting to get hungry. The bright lights of a 24-hour sushi restaurant were catching your attention.

"You always hated sushi."

The voice made you jump. This wasn't Tim's voice, in fact it wasn't even over the comms. It was coming from right behind you. Not very many people could sneak up on you - in fact only Batman was able to and this sure as hell wasn't Batman. A tall man with a red helmet and guns holstered on his hips stood before you.

His voice was distorted and you had no idea who it was or where they had come from. Gotham was filled with all kinds of crazy, but only few were skilled enough to best you.

However, it was what he had known about you that threw you off - hating sushi. It was true, you never liked sushi until you met Tim. He had taken you there on a date one evening and before you could complain about the choice of food, he had given you the best meal of your life. Not only did you like the food now, but eating it always reminded you of him.

You decided that attacking first, asking questions later was your best choice. You didn't know who this guy was but you weren't planning on finding out the hard way. This guy could be wanting to kill you - not that you would be surprised. After upholding the mantle for several years after Barbra, you had a pretty long list of enemies.

This guy, wasn't one of them. Yet.

Whoever he was, he knew how to fight. Every move that you pulled on him, he somehow knew how to block, counter, or predict. He managed to dodge nearly all of your attempts at a batarang hit and those that he wasn't able to dodge, deflected off of his helmet. He was good, maybe better than you.

You landed several good punches on him. Since his helmet seemed to be strong, you aimed for the ribs, the knees, and shoulders. However, it seemed that with every hit you got, he had returned. Pain flared up in your ribs and you were sure that they were cracked, if not broken.

The man's kick had pushed you across the roof and you landed painful against the ground. A loud groan was emitted and all the wind was knocked out of your lungs. This guy was good, there was no way that you could take him on your own.

"Robin I-" you never got to finish you sentence. A loud gunshot rang out with a bullet zooming right by your ear. Ringing filled your head and you flinched away from your earpiece.

"Batgirl? Batgirl! What happened? (Y/N)!" Tim yelled. You didn't dare reach to try and speak to him again. Not when his gun was out and pointed right at you. Instead, you raised your arms in a temporary surrender. This man, he obviously wanted something otherwise he would have shot you already.

"What do you want? Who are you?" He never lowered his gun. You narrowed your eyes at him, "you're not going to kill me, so what the hell do you want. Better make it quick, the Bats is on his way."

"You've gotten better at being Batgirl," He finally spoke again. The modulated voice rang loud and clear in the traffic filled night. "I still beat you though, just like always."

Just like always? What the hell was this guy talking about. You had never met him before in your life. You had fought a lot of people in your line of work but you would have remember someone like him - someone that could put you on your ass in a matter of minutes.

A fear began to well in your chest about what was going to happen to you. A fear that maybe this man would bring you to the same demise as your brother. It had been a long time since you feared death.

"What do you want?" You repeated a final time. With a wince, you pushed yourself off the ground, eye level with the barrel of his gun. Obviously, he didn't trust you enough for you to be standing without a weapon pointed between your eyes. You just hoped that Tim and Bruce would show up fast enough before this guy could do anything to you.

"Your brother would be disappointed in you."

Your breath caught in your throat. How did he know about Jason? How did he know what had happened to him? And mostly importantly, how did he know that you could never bring yourself to kill the joker? This man knew who you were, your real identity - or maybe he was just bluffing.

You didn't give him a reaction, that had to have been what he was looking for. How he knew your brother - and you- and why he was interested in the relationship, left you more confused than anything. You wanted to know how this man was, and more importantly, you wanted to know what he wanted.

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know everything about you," he argued, his voice rising. "You couldn't avenge your brother, you let Batman replace him, what else have you done?"

"He never would have wanted me to cross that line, because he knew I would never be able to come back!" You matched his voice. Your fists clenched at your sides and you suddenly felt furious that this man standing in front of you pretended that he knew who you were and who Jason was.

"He would have wanted you to make sure that no one took the mantle of Robin again, he would have wanted you to make sure that no one would have to share the same death as him but what did you do? You welcomed the replacement right into your bed!" This man seemed to know more about your life than you would have ever thought.

Very few people knew your identity, Tim's, and Bruce's. You made sure that it was kept well under wraps so that cases like this would never have happened. No, this stranger was taunting you in the worst kinds of ways - your brother, and what he meant to you.

You always thought that you had done Jason's memory well - maybe not perfect but he wouldn't have been wanted to be remembered as the perfect son. He was brave, dauntless, he acted real and never caved into the posh society that the two of you were dragged into. Jason was human, and you made sure he was remembered that way.

Your jaw clenched and you swore that you face twitched in anger. Seeing red, you didn't notice that the man had picked up one of your previously thrown batarangs and threw it right into your shoulder. You cried out in pain and before you could retaliate, he was gone. You braced yourself for the pain and pulled out the metal just as Tim arrived on the rooftop with you.

"(Y/N)," Tim sighed in relief. He rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands cupped your face and without thinking, he kissed you. "I was so worried, you didn't answer and I heard the gunshot. I thought you were dead." You shook your head, still fazed by the interaction.

"He knew who I was," You voice trembled. You finally looked over at Tim. He saw the blood drip from your shoulder and pressed his hand into the wound to hopefully slow the bleeding. "He knew who Jason was. Tim, h-he... the things he said, he thought that I would have been a disappointment to him."

"You know that's bull," Tim promised you. You were too much of an emotional mess to even feel the pain coursing through your body. "Jason would be so proud of the person you've become. You've saved so many lives - he would be happy for you. We're going to find this guy, he'll get the justice he deserves."

"No," You shook your head. The anger that he had cast upon you only kept growing in your chest. No one, disrespected your brother's memory, ever. You were going to make sure of that.

"I want him dead."

415 notes · View notes

hateswifi · 4 years

Text

No More Second Chances: Chapter 7

So yep, i think this is the third chapter this month. imma tired, I haven’t slept properly since Sunday. its almost three k words so yeah

The Master: Master List

No More Second Chances: Master List

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Apparently, school had to go on April break for her to get any sleep. Clark and Lois decided that the first half of the week would be spent in Smallville and she couldn’t remember the second place, it’s not even her fault though, people like to talk to her before she can drink coffee.

“Another grandchild! Is this one a clone like Connor?” Aunt Martha asks, pulling everyone into hugs.

“No, Ma, this is the exchange student that we’ve been taking in for the last month and a half, I told you about her,” Clark says, hugging his mom.

“Oh thank god, I don't know how I would react if someone cloned you again, because it was either she is a clone or another one of Bruce’s, but no matter, you’ll be staying Kara’s room,” Martha says, leading the bluenette inside the homey-farm house.

It was fifteen minutes later after she was done getting comfortable that Aunt Martha appears in the doorway. She smiles while saying, “I hope everything is good, I don't know if you want to, but there’s plenty of ingredients if you want to bake. Clark told me that you grew up in a bakery.”

“I would love to, I haven’t baked since before I left home,” Marinette smiles, putting down her sketchbook.

“What are you working on?” Martha asks, taking a seat on Marinette’s bed beside her.

“Oh, these are designs I had to put off because of the move and family issues. Uncle Jagged was understanding but because it’s spring break, I would love to be able to get them to him as soon as possible,” Marinette explains.

“That’s cool, do you want to be a designer when you’re older?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I get for growing up in the fashion center of the world,” Marinette shrugs.”

“Well, honey, if there’s anything that you need let me know, I’m going to get out of your hair,” Martha says.

“You’ll never be a bother,” Marinette giggles.

“Dinner will be at five,” Martha says, closing the door behind her. Marinette sighs and goes back to sketching. Uncle Jagged needed his outfits soon so if she designed everything the first half of the week, she can go to the closest fabric store wherever they’re staying the rest of the week. A couple of hours later, though it felt like minutes, she was being called down for dinner where she met Jon’s, Uncle Jonathan.

“Welcome to the family, Marinette,” he greets with a pleasant smile. “You’re not a clone, right?”

“See what I mean! You could definitely be a clone!” Martha points out.

“I guess I could be, but thankfully I’m not,” Marinette giggles.

“But she’s a hero,” Jon smiles, pulling her into a side hug.

“Seriously Jon, why are you calling me out?” Marinette asks, rubbing her temples.

“I’m not!” Jon says, feigning innocence. “She’s a Parisian hero!”

“Or as Dick put it, a magic girl,” Marinette sighs.

“Oh we know, we know everything,” Martha chuckles.

“But you didn’t know that I am not a clone?”

“It gets blurry when it comes to specific things,” Jonathan shrugs. “Jon, you ready to help me tomorrow?”

“Of course! I’ve missed working,” Jon responds with a smile.

“Can I help?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Jonathan says. The rest of the dinner was spent talking about plans and getting to know each other. After dinner, Marinette called Adrien and talked to him for a bit while sketching. They had to hang up not too long after the starting call because it was late for him.

The time flew by, she helped out in the field Uncle Jon, explored the town with Jon, designed for Uncle Jagged, and baked with Aunt Martha. She had a lot of fun and completely forgot about her Parisian problems. Aunt Martha and Marinette shared baking recipes and Aunt Martha sent a recipe to her baking buddy.

On Wednesday, Clark and Lois cam to pick Jon and Marinette up so they could bring them to the other place where they would be staying for the rest of the week. Marinette, again, didn’t hear nor did she care where they were going next. She put in her headphones and sketched the last outfit that Jagged had requested. Marinette asked Lois and Clark to stop on the way to their destination, which they did. She loved the fabric she picked out and couldn’t wait to start sewing. She barely registered when the car stopped, she grabbed her stuff and Jon led her wherever they were staying. People talked around her but she couldn’t hear them, she was focused on her music and studying her designs. She saw people moving out of the corner of her eye but she couldn’t care, she just wanted to sit down and started sewing.

The next thing she knows somebody, who she thinks is Jon, is leading her to a different, which she hopes is her room so she can start working.

“Here’s your room,” the person said, opening the door. She mutters a thank you before sitting down at the desk that was across the room from her. She starts laying out fabrics and separating them for each outfit. That was all she could get done by the time Clark and Lois walked in to say goodbye it was almost dinner time already. She was going to go downstairs when she was interrupted by a call by Adrien. She decided to forgo dinner and just continue working. She heard a quiet knock on the door and an older man walks in.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Marinette, it would seem that you missed dinner, so I took the liberty to bring you some food,” he greets.

“Great thank you,” Marinette mutters, putting down her sewing actually taking a minute to look up. “Alfred? Where the heck am I?”

“You’re in the Wayne Manor, Miss” Alfred repeats, putting the plate down.

“Oh my apologies, I’ve been distracted with my work, I didn’t even realize where I was,” Marinette sighs, before realizing she was still on the phone. “Sorry Adrien, I’ll call you tomorrow, go to bed, it’s late.” She finishes, hanging up.

“I heard from Martha that you like to bake,” Alfred says.

“Yeah, that’s true, I grew up in a bakery,” Marinette shrugs, taking a piece of bread.

“The kitchen is open if you would like to use it,” Alfred says before leaving the room. Marinette nods to herself while eating her food while it’s still warm. After she finishes, she decides that she needs a stretch so she takes her plate to the kitchen and to grab a coffee.

When she gets to the kitchen she’s shocked to see a pot already brewing. There’s a guy half-passed out, or half-awake depending at how you look at things, practically sprawled out on the counter. “Are you ok?” Marinette asks, looking for a mug.

“Oh my gosh! Are you real?” he asks, startling awake.

“I would assume I’m real, you’re Tim, right? Where are the mugs?” Marinette asks, opening random cabinets. “Nevermind, I found them.”

“You’re the magic girl, you don’t need coffee,” he says, pouring himself a huge mug of coffee.

“Against popular belief, we do need sleep and basic human necessities,” She explains taking the pot from him.

“Why do you need coffee?”

“When I was in Smallville, I wasn’t able to go to the supply store. I asked Lois and Clark to take me they said yes, so we stopped on our way over,” Marinette says, sipping her coffee.

“What supplies?”

“Fabric, I’m behind on my Uncle’s orders, but he understands,” Marinette shrugs.

“Great what we need another coffee addict,” Another voice grumbles, entering the kitchen.

“Good to see you, Demon, what are you doing up?” Tim asks, unimpressed.

“I heard you shriek,” Damian deadpans.

“I didn’t shriek,” Tim says, offended.

“Well, I’m just going to go back to my room, you guys can work out whatever brotherly love is going on here,” Marinette says, brushing past Damian.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her wrist.

“What?” she asks, turning towards him.

“I- umm..,” he starts catching himself. “Welcome to the manor, I hope you’ll find your stay enjoyable.” he finishes, letting go of her arm.

“Umm.. of course, thank you, Dami,” Marinette yawns, rubbing the back of her neck before rushing off to do her work.

Once she disappeared from view Tim snickers behind his mug. “I can tell you one thing you didn’t inherit from Bruce.” He chuckles.

“I like it better when you were unconscious,” Damian says, stomping off towards his room.

“Words can’t hurt me,” Tim yells at his back.

“But swords can,” Damian shouts over his shoulder.

“Must have gotten on his nerves, it’s been a while since he’s threatened us,” Dick says, entering the kitchen. “Aso what have we agreed on for coffee?”

“But Marinette had some,” Tim whines, rushing away from Dick before he can take his sustenance.

“She’s a magic girl, she gets a pass,” Dick yells at his back.

Marinette was back in her zone sewing what Jagged needed the soonest, he has a concert in Boston soon before going to New York and then coming over to Gotham. She was working on is concert wear first. She works through the night until a knock interrupts her thoughts once again, expecting it to be Alfred or Jon, she mindlessly says come in.

“Good morning, Marinette,” Damian says, entering the room.

“It’s morning?” She asks, looking up from her work.

“Yes, have you been working all night?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess I have,” she responds in a daze.

“What are you working on, if I may ask,” Damian asks, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Just a commission for my uncle.”

“Your uncle is going to wear a purple-glittery suit?”

“Uncle Jagged is over the top like that, but it suits him,” Marinette shrugs, inspecting her handy work.

“Jagged as in Jagged Stone, you’re his personal designer?”

“You didn’t realize that?”

“If I didn’t realize that, there’s no way my incompetent sibling realized it either,” Damian smirks.

“Why does it matter?” She asks, looking up from her work.

“They love Jagged Stone and they love your designs,” Damian explains.

“Well, Jagged will need to pick up his stuff, by the way, I should mention he’s also trying to adopt me,” Marinette says, continuing to work on the finishing touches to the piece. “Oh by the way, what made you stop by?”

“Oh.. um- I wanted to see if you wanted to come down for breakfast,” Damian responds.

“Sure, let me put this down,” she finished before standing up to follow Damian to the dining room. They enter the dining room together and all of the eyes are on them.

“Hey, Marinette, I thought you were dead,” Jon jokes, taking a bite of toast.

“Not dead, just exhausted. Also, thanks for having us, Bruce,” Marinette says, taking a seat in between Jon and Damian.

“It is my pleasure to,” Bruce says, looking over the newspaper.

“This won’t give you the advantage in the adoption war,” Jon snickers.

“I have a different way to get her in the family,” Bruce retorts.

“I should mention, can my uncle come over later this week to pick up his orders?” Marinette asks, pouring herself more coffee.

“What day?”

“Friday afternoon I would think,” Marinette says, stabbing the food in front of her.

“I was informed that he is also in the running adoption,” Damian says, sipping his water.

“I’m not thinking about adoption,” Bruce says, which brought some confused looks and some coughs.

“All I’m going to say is, my dad is freaking Superman so I think we’ll win this adoption war,” Jon shrugs.

“Jon!” Multiple people say, which caused everyone to look around.

“Wait you guys know?” Marinette asks, confused.

“Of course we know, how do you know?” Jason asks.

“Oh, after she was revealed as a magic girl, Mom was quite annoyed to be left out of the superhero club,” Jon says.

“That makes sense,” Damian shrugs and continues eating. They continue eating breakfast, with some light chatter, and some teases mostly aimed at Damian and Marinette, and there total not crushes on each other.

After breakfast, Marinette holes herself back up in her room to continue working on her commissions. That’s how she spends the rest of the day, she gets a phone call from Adrien and they talked for a while. After lunch, Damian came in and sat with her for a bit and they made light talk. He sat and read his book as she sews more, breaking every once in a while to talk. She was honestly very happy how she spent one of her last days of vacation.

She is even happier the next day Jagged and Penny arrived. The boys’ shocked faces are priceless.

“You’re trying to tell me your Uncle is, Jagged Stone, as in THE Jagged Stone,” Jason exclaims.

“I swear I mentioned this,” Marinette says, scratching her head before shugging.

“How’s my rockin’ ladybug!” Jagged says, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m doing good, I’m exhausted, though,” Marinette yawns before going to grab the bags that held her work from her room.

“Did you guys let her stay up way too late to finish them?” Jagged asks, in all seriousness.

“She lived off coffee for the past two days,” Tim says.

“If you’re ever around her when she’s like this, she has a curfew of one a.m.. At that time, you are allowed to gently take everything from her hands and just lewd her to her bed,” Jagged explains.

“Are you betraying me, Jagged?” Marinette asks arms crossed to the best of her ability because she was holding his outfits.

“All I’m saying Mari is that you lost enough sleep as a hero teen, you need to catch up on it now,” Jagged said, copying her posture.

“Hey you can’t even blame me, I remember having to fight a Fang because he was akumatized into freakin dragon around midnight,” Marinette deadpans. “I don’t hold it against you though, I got to fly, it was liberating.”

“I wrote you and Adrien a song because of it,” Jagged fires back.

“Conversation over, go try on the outfits,” Marinette says, shoving them into his arms.

“Fine, fine, so bossy,” Jagged sighs, before walking away.

“So you’re his personal designer? Which means you are Nettie!” Tim says.

“You’re Nettie and a magic girl! Bruce can we adopt her please!” Dick pleads.

There are three in sync no’s that follow, one from Jagged, one from Marinette, and lastly, on from Damian.

“Damian, why wouldn’t you want Marinette apart of your family? She rocking! If you can’t see this amazing girl, then you’re blind,” Jagged defends. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I got first dibs.”

“Tell that to Adrien’s aunt, she wants to adopt me as well,” Marinette responds.

“Don’t forget about my parents,” Jon adds.

“Joint custody?” Jagged shrugs. “Can we cut Adrien’s aunt out? She can have you when you visit him.”

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just trying to make the most of what my life is right now,” Marinette shrugs.

“It’s decided, Clark and I have split custody,” Jagged shrugs.

“Woah, Woah, Woah, you can’t come into my house and cut me out of the adoption,” Bruce says, crossing his arms.

“You just wanted her in the family, we don’t need a triple custody for that,” Tim points out.

“Well this has been a great conversation, and I love being adopted and stuff, but I haven’t slept since Wednesday so I’m going to go to bed,” Marinette yawns. “Goodnight everyone.”

“I’ll walk you to your room so um you don’t get lost, it is a bit manor,” Damian says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Um… sure, let’s go,” Marinette says, letting him lead her down the hall. When they’re out of earshot Jagged says. “They’re totally into each other, I’m no the only one seeing, right?”

“You’d have to literally be blind or be one of them to not notice it,” Jason says.

“So were you happy to see your uncle?” Damian asks.

“Of course, I haven’t seen him since before my move,” Marinette smiles.

“I’m pleased that you’re staying for the rest of break with us,” Damian says as they approach her room. “Sleep well, Angel.” He says, kissing her hand.

“Damn, I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Marinette mutters out, her eyelids feeling heavy. He leads her to lay down and she drags him down with her. “Imma go to sleep now,” she says hugging him tightly.

“Let me go first,” Damian mutters out.

“No, you’ll help me sleep,” she mutters back into his chest.

“You better not remember this tomorrow,” Damian grumbles. He doesn’t get a response.

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#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #batfam #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #damian wayne #damimari #ml x dc

260 notes · View notes

bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Bail Out : 02

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 02: Unrequited

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 7213

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, Hints of Mugging and Violence

Author’s Note: Very happy to see the response I received so far. Hope you will enjoy the progression of this story. Enjoy!

Songs Mentioned:

Ain’t no Stopping us Now- McFadden & Whitehead

Eyes off You- M-22, Arlissa and Kiana Ledé

Chapter 1 HERE

(Saturday 3 am)

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Alfred Pennyworth rose up from his chair upon seeing Bruce Wayne enter the Penthouse with haste. The sudden need to spend one’s late hours on a riveting novel was certainly coincidental, for tonight the Butler had been awake for two valid reasons, as it seemed.

“I’m a little relieved you didn’t come back home with Ms.Natasha…” Alfred said hoarsely. Loosening his tie, Bruce flashed a soft smile in his direction.

“I take it that you don’t like her, Alfred?”

“Oh! Her talent is admirable” the elderly man replied, watching the younger man rush over to his bedroom, “But her arrogance is simply unforgivable” he continued, increasing the volume of his voice so that his master could still hear. Alfred’s eyes subtly squinted with curiosity when Bruce returned with his laptop.

Sitting on one of the dinning chairs, Wayne made himself comfortable ,before typing up some words in it. “Trouble, Master Wayne?” Alfred inquired. “I need to look up someone…” Bruce answered, whilst accessing the Wayne Enterprises Internal Server. “And who may that be exactly, Sir?” “My knight …” Bruce began, his index finger grazing over ENTER button,“….in shining armor…” Finally pressing it, he managed to open the Personnel File required, “…apparently” Both men spent the next few minutes, studying the profile in complete silence and fascination. The owner of the profile was female, appearing to an employee of Wayne Enterprises. Swiping through every page, Bruce made sure to pay close attention to every little detail. Until finally, he spoke up. “Alfred…” Bruce said, looking over to him, “We’re gonna need some bail money…” Mr.Pennyworth flashed him a small smile in turn. “Of course you do, Sir…” He replied, although there was indeed a hint of sarcasm.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Monday)

The rhythmic clicks of your stilettos were interrupted by the ring of your cell phone. Monday morning, the beginning of a new week. Thus, more work awaited you, similar to everyone else in the world. Digging inside your oversized handbag, you rummaged through, forcing you to stop in your tracks on the pavement, only a few feet away from Wayne Tower.

Few seconds passed by, yet you still could not find your phone. Although those few seconds seemed adequate, for the chilly morning breeze to caress the back of your neck, and for the cup of mocha to keep your hand warm like an invisible glove, or even for the delicious sandwich inside your bag to tease your nostrils with it’s aroma. Bless the caller’s patience, you thought. When you finally grabbed it from the bottom of the handbag, you smiled, upon seeing the name that appeared on screen. “ ’Morning Ali! What’s up?” You answered, in a cheery tone. With your working schedules being different, Allison would relish the opportunity of sleeping in. Unlike you. “Hey Sweetie…” Allison spoke, her deep voice sounding even deeper in the morning, “Just FYI, they’re sending someone to fix the Wi-fi today…” “Oh Thank God!…” you exclaimed, “Finally I can do some catching up…” you said, backing unto the wall to allow the passerby’s to walk past. To both of your dismay, the Wi-fi connection seemed to have a breakdown during the weekend, causing what could be called as an ‘unexpected detox’ from all forms of social media and internet access. But now, relieved about the good news, you began to walk once again, your rhythmic clicks getting their groove back. “Um…Sweetie?”  

“Yeah, what’s up?” You asked. Allison grew quiet for a few seconds, which confused you. “You might wanna…” she paused, “…keep off the web today…” she added hesitantly, “Or… even for a few days…” You raised your eyebrows, as you approached the entrance of Wayne Tower.  “Why?” You asked, “What do you mean?-Hey Bill !”

Amidst your cheerful greeting, Bill the Doorman grew nothing but speechless as you passed him by. And it surprised you. ‘Babbling Bill’ was what you would tease him with, yet there he was, quiet as a mouse. And he was not the only one. “Hey! You there?” Allison asked, seemingly concerned by your own silence. Gripping on to your phone tightly, you felt discomfort. “Ali, I gotta go…” You said, hanging up whilst you walked through the lobby. A walk through the lobby of Wayne Tower was usually a busy walk. Your voice would get the warm up it needed with many a greetings, when at the same time, your upper limbs would get the stretching required from all the waving. Yet today, this morning, it was all too different.

All those who passed you smiled, yet no words were exchanged. Speechless would be most common word to describe it. The moment you would pass anyone by, it was quite noticeable how some quickly gathered into groups of two or three’s, followed up with hushed whispers. Uncomfortable was clearly the word you would use to describe your situation, thus you looked straight ahead and walked towards the elevator hall. The more eyes washed over you, the stronger you wished for the elevators to be closer in distance. You did not want to walk anymore. Oh how wonderful would have been to float anywhere in flash! What could possibly have happened for all to look at you this way? Your eyes widened. Could it be? The Friday night incident? Allison’s advice, could that be in relation to this, by any chance?

You finally caught the elevator, being the last one to get in. With a packed and quiet crowd standing behind, the doors closed and you watched the floor numbers of the panel, change with every second. But then, whispers began: “Is she the one who-”

“Yep…”

“Oh! Wow…”

It seemed that whispers were what you could not escape from. If it was another day, you would have gladly turned back to spot the culprit. But today was not your day.

So, there. Everyone knew. But what exactly?

8th Floor, HR Department of Wayne Enterprises. Stepping out of the elevator, you grew nervous. Being the Department that dared not attract attention of this sort, what could possibly be the reaction of your peers and colleagues? Taking a deep breath, you entered the office space, ready to face the music.

Except, you were greeted with actual music.

And the loudest of cheers.

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Never have you been this confused. And never had you seen your Staff in HR worked so collectively in any activity other than this. All 20+ of your junior staff, up from their chairs, visible from their booths. Never have they clapped so zealously before. “Ain’t no Stopping us Now” by McFadden & Whitehead played in the background the moment you entered the large room. “Ain't No Stoppin Us Now! We're on the move!…..”

Instead of feeling relieved or euphoric, embarrassment washed over you.

“…Ain’t No Stoppin Us Now! We've got the groove!”

The disco chorus would normally tempt you to break into dance, but all you could do was to cover your face, to hide the redness that deemed visible. What could have possibly been showed to these innocent people for them to act this way around you? And most importantly, you did not know if these cheers were of genuine support, or sheer mockery.

“HR is cool again! Whoo!” “Literal chills, Boss!…” “You…are…amazing!” “You showed them! Fight the power!”

Nodding with a shy smile, you acknowledged everyone’s comments as you walked towards the direction of your office, uncomfortable by cheers for the first time in all your years of existence.

“Well done, boss…Well done!” Greg Cohen, Assistant Manager cried out as he joined you. Given his track record, you were convinced this was all a prank. “Alright alright…” you muttered with a smirk, “…message received” yet prepared for an unexpected surprise in the end. Except Greg never looked this happy. “Are you kidding?” He said, “The way you stood up to that jerk? Pure bad-assery, Boss!” “Is your hand okay?” Paula Yang, one of the Senior Executives jumped in with concern, following you over to the office with Greg. “Yes, Paula.” You answered kindly, showing your hand, “And I was only ‘badass’ cause I was highly intoxicated, Greg!” You pointed out to him with exaggeration. To which he laughed. “Yeah! We can’t forget how crazy you get when you’re wasted…” he said with a wink, watching you finally sit down,“Oh! Remember that one time you willingly joined the junior staff to do a Taylor Swift Karaoke-off?” Eyes widened, that embarrassing memory played in your mind like a fast forward clip. “Oh my god-don’t!” You cried out with frustration, covering your face. All in the midst of Greg’s laughter. “I remember you sang 22 with such gusto, it was classic!” “Do you think HR is gonna be in trouble for this though?” Paula asked. You were struggling with an answer: “I-” “Nah!” Greg waved his hand frantically, “There worse things going on in Gotham right now” “That’s not the point-” you interjected, or tried to. “So many worse things-” “GUYS!…” Your interjection finally silenced the both of them, although the music was live and kicking outside. Taking a deep breath, you began: “As much as I appreciate all this…would you mind giving me some space for a little breather? I mean…” you paused, showing your coffee, “ I just got to office so…” you said, hinting their exit, “...Thank You” you added as they nodded frantically. “Sure! of course…” Greg said, “You’re the best, Boss!” Giving a thumbs up, he disappeared. “Yeah! Yeah!…” You said with raised eyebrows, “Paula…the door, please!” You added courtesy as you looked at her. The young executive obediently closed the door behind, leaving you alone at last. Never did you expect this. Especially when the title of Senior Manager was crowned over your head.

Pressing the space button of your computer, you watched the screen come alive, welcoming you with Google Search on your Browser Window. Staring at blinking cursor, you were tempted. Highly tempted to do the unthinkable. Should you act on it? Or would it crash and burn your day altogether? Yet, how unfair was it that everyone else knew but you.

Exhaling deeply, the last thread of patience left you. No more. Taking a deep breath, you proceeded to let your fingers press the keys.

Brring!

The ring of your office phone made you flinch in a flash. Holding your chest with shock, you looked over to the phone screen, forcing you to hold yourself tighter.

878. Boss!

You gulped with fear, fingers almost shaking as you answered the phone: “Y-yes?” Your stutter was called for. “My office…now!” A voice spoke from the other side. It was stern, it was expected. Sighing with silence, you nodded whilst replying low and with obedience : “Yes…”

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Sitting with your hands over your mouth, you watched it all. You watched the entire Friday night incident caught on video.And it was more vivid than you could remember.

“Don’t you DARE say things like that!”

“Why? What are you gonna do? Threaten m-OW!”

“You take that back! I mean it”

“Wha-? OWW!! ARGH! MY NOSE!”

“SECURITY!”  

Your eyes squinted with discomfort. The manner in which you spewed your words in rage, and surprise him with your amateur yet deadly punches; this was a side of yourself you had never glanced upon before. As the video stopped playing in the laptop, you looked back at the title above it:

“Sucker Punch! : Woman engages in assault at Famous Hotel”

With your eyes glued to the title, you let it sink in to your system. No wonder everyone downstairs appeared speechless. You dreaded to look away from the screen at the two people watching you from the other side of the table. And you chose not to. “So…” You attempted a casual tone, “…has this…gone viral?” Ted Hawthorne, one of the Legal representatives of Wayne Enterprises, cleared his throat: “Truthfully, I’m inclined to give a sarcastic remark right now” he said, in his bass tone. “Please…” you sighed, “…by all means” you said, eyes still on the screen. Taking a deep breath, Ted began: “If only this was viral, kid” he said, proceeding to point at the screen, “This…is mega viral. Spreading faster than wild fire” he continued, “Media is already calling you ‘The Bruiser’” Your boss however, still kept silent. Sighing even heavily, you looked at Ted. “Okay, be straight with me” you said, “What am I in for? How much did I anger this Henderson guy?” Ted scoffed, “You seriously don’t know who you’re up against? Erik Henderson of Henderson Incorporated?” Your jaw dropped as low as it could. Henderson Incorporated had always been one of the Rival Companies of Wayne Enterprises. How could you not possibly put those two together? “Wait! No…” you exclaimed, “But what about Magnus Henderson?” “That’s his father.” Ted said, taking the laptop, “He retired….” He added whilst typing, “ …and passed the company over to Erik.” Flipping the laptop back to you. It now showed an article, “It all happened so fast last week. So I guess I don’t blame you for not knowing” he said, sitting on the chair right next to you. Your Head remained silent, still. “Anyways, back to the point…” Ted said, as you scrolled through the article, “The usual legal practice from his side, would be pressing charges for assault…” A certain someone warned you about this a few days before. Someone who unknowingly caused warmth in your poor heart. As you looked down at your right hand, at the tightly wrapped bandage, that warmth seemed more evident to you. Ignoring that, you grew worried. “Yeah but…” you began, “What if something like this happened between two drunk friends at a bar or something? Does that mean someone will be pressed charges?” “Well, are you two…friends?” Ted questioned with a raised eyebrow. Silence came over you, along with a heap of embarrassment. “….no…” you muttered low. Closing your eyes, you sighed. Your disgraceful behavior had caused shame, it was obvious. Shaking his head, Ted crossed his legs, his deep, brown skin shining from the fluorescent light as he ran his hand over his bald head. “…as I was saying, before getting interrupted…” he looked at you sternly, to which you mouthed an apology, “… pressing charges would be the usual practice, but it seems that Mr. Henderson was more than generous and decided to not do either of that…” your eyes widened instantly by his words, “…except he demands some things in return…” “Which are?…” “A public statement of apology” “Oh…” “And immediate termination of your job at Wayne Enterprises…” “WHAT????” You yelled. Gripping on to both arms of the chair, you involuntarily looked at both Ted and your Boss. Could this really be your worse nightmare come to life? Did you really punch yourself into your own undoing? “Calm down, kid!” Ted raised both his hands, “Damn! let me finish…” he muttered under his breath worriedly, to which you nodded. Whilst taking deep breaths, you watched him continue: “Yes, his latter request seems a bit exaggerated, the Board completely agreed on that. However, your performance will be considered for a special evaluation during the upcoming few months. And then the board will come to confirmation whether to keep you in the company or not. It’s just a special precaution. I’m sure it’s not a big deal” There really was no apt response for any of this. All you could do was to let the silence take over. All the sudden, you felt nothing but emotionally exhausted. Sensing this, Ted offered a sympathetic glance. “Just keep your head down and read the statement, kid” he said, getting up “The press will be arriving at around 11:30…Good Luck!” Giving a nod to your boss, Ted headed out, leaving the two of you alone. At last. Lillian Foster, Head of the HR Department at Wayne Enterprises, was no doubt, an exceptionally brilliant woman. Rising through the ranks in the department with ease, she holds the position of Head at the age of 40, and possibly one of the youngest black women of power in this company. And this was possibly the longest period she had ever been silent with you.

And it frightened you.

With the density of silence increasing in the atmosphere, you kept looking down. You simply did not have the heart to look back at her. Along with the silence, the tension was equally thick, enough to be sliced into several stacks. Which begged the question: who will speak up first? Being the perpetrator, it seemed only fair you speak up. Except, she finally did before you could. “I had to watch this…” She began calmly, “…for more than ten times…just to even understand and accept that it was you doing it”. Though she was calm, the disappointment in her was evident, “How did you think I feel?” Your heart grew heavy. Nothing felt worse than disappointing Lillian. Not only was she your boss, she was also your mentor. She was the woman who took you in like family from your very first day in the company. In the company with a majority of men, she was a maternal figure, a sibling and teacher. You owed her to the stars. Clearly her question was a rhetorical one, for she continued: “You should be really grateful that Mr. Wayne was kind enough to bail you out himself. That’s as kind as you can get” she said, getting up from her chair to walk over to you, “The man must have woken up from the right side of his bed that morning…praise that man!” The shape of her heavily pregnant belly was quite visible in her navy blue dress. Yet she managed to handle everything with the boss persona that she owned so well. Taking the seat next to you, it was only fair to match her eye-line with yours. “Last week, I was so sure and ready to leave the responsibilities to you, and take my maternity leave with liberty…”she continued with a sigh,“But now…I’m beginning to get worried…” “Don’t say things like that, Lillian…” You shook your head frantically, “Just think of the baby…” you said, pointing at her belly. You still remember the number of times you spoke to that belly with adoration, hoping the little one inside would hear you. “I don’t understand…” Lillian said with frustration, “I’ve never seen you like this…”she said with concern, “Sure, you had a hard time with your temper with some people on the first few years here..” “Cause the people were jerks-” You added through gritted teeth, instantly recalling the horrible staff mistreating you back then. “Yes they were…” She nodded, “But then you realized, being in HR means we have to put up with all that, but still be the ones people turn to…” she spoke with such eloquence, “…handle everything with a smile and composure…” she added, making you nod, “And I’ve seen you grow… and do many great things…”, you smiled upon hearing that. “But punching someone?”Her informal tone just broke free, “What the hell?” “I really don’t know why, Lillian…” You replied with honesty and equal frustration, “I wish you were there…you didn’t hear the things that man said about Mr.Wayne…about the company” your jaw tightened, “…that man maybe the new CEO of Henderson Incorporated, but he had no class!” “But still-” “-violence is never the answer…I know” With a sigh, You finished her sentence. Silence followed suit for a few seconds. Until Lillian’s lips finally curved upright. “I kept hearing the others say how badass you were…” she said, with a chuckle. You turned to her, suppressing a smile, “A part of me wants to agree…but… how can I?” She said, tilting her head. Chuckling back, you shook your head once again. “And I don’t want you to either…” you replied, “It was just a massive screw up…” Taking a deep breath, you groaned as you covered your face: “And now…I have to fix it” you said, looking up. “Do you have those pearl earrings with you?” Lillian asked. You nodded: “It’s in my bag, always…” “Good…” She said, getting up, “You’re gonna need them! ”

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(Evening)

The Mikimoto pearl earrings, possibly were the most expensive, most precious pieces of jewelry you ever possessed. The mere glance of it always reminded you of the hard work and effort put into saving enough money to purchase a worthy pair of the famous brand of pearl earrings, for pearls were your favorite. And you were glad of your purchase, for it always brought class to any occasion.

Including making a public apology before the entire press of Gotham City.

Leaning forward against the back of the couch, you folded your arms, watching your own zoomed image on the television screen. It was the Late Night News, and the Apology was broadcasted once again on the News Rerun. Allison did not miss this. Sitting on the couch, her eyes were glued to the screen with concern. You both watched. The flashing lights of the cameras attacking you selfishly, symbol of greedy journalists on the mission to get the perfect shot of your remorse. In your formal office attire of skirt and jacket, the earrings highlighted your face, as you stood behind the podium alongside many representatives of Wayne Enterprises, including Ted Hawthorne. When you watched yourself read the speech, you remembered the words echoing in your head:

“….I would like to extend my sincerest apologies to Mr. Erik Henderson. It was not…” you watched yourself pause,

“…my intention to cause him such harm and pain. I am aware that my actions were tainted with irresponsibility and unprofessional-ism. I would also like to apologize to all staff in the hotel, and to all the other customers present that evening. My actions, as I mentioned earlier, were simply irresponsible and certainly not to be ignored so easily. I will make sure to adhere to the necessary measures that will be taken by Wayne Enterprises to compensate the loss and shame I have brought upon them. Thank you! That’ll be all”

“You did good, Sweetie…” Allison murmured gently, as the both of you watched the version of you on the screen slowly exit the podium. The screen transitioned over to the News Anchor in the studio:

“…However, several eyewitnesses have anonymously claimed the attack could indeed be provoked by Henderson himself, by making comments of defamation against billionaire socialite Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises…”

Your stomach formed a knot the second a video of Bruce Wayne was played. Possibly from that night. But the knot tightened with pain as you saw the woman who stood next to him. “Quick question…” Allison asked, pointing at the screen, “Was that Natasha person really pretty as she looks on camera?” “Nah…not really…” You flatly replied, folding your arms. Except a few seconds later, you realized you merely said that out of spite. Because you felt sour. And it was not true, “What am I saying? Of course she was pretty …” you chuckled, “She is pretty, just like you”. Shifting towards your direction, Allison sensed your emotion. After all, she was a woman too. With her blonde tresses illuminated by the lights of the television in the midst of the dark room, Allison’s expression changed. It was difficult to decipher, but it changed. “Sweetie…” She uttered with sympathy. A vacuum began to form within you, and you found it hard to breathe. Unable to take that in, you merely shrugged your shoulders. “Well that’s it…you saw the speech…” you said, pointing at the screen nonchalantly, “Goodnight, Ali…” your greeting was short, walking away before she could even respond. The door closed quietly behind you. Staring at the comfortable bed, all you longed was to get in it. Feeling the bouncy mattress brushing against your knees, you slowly crawled across the bed until you reached the window in the corner. The pavement was clearly visible as you opened it. Observing the hubbub outside, your mind began to wonder, it began to ponder. You did it. You gave the speech. And being in your good behavior was never going to be an issue, since you were never a troublemaker.

Therefore, why must you be filled with such emptiness?

“Never underestimate the power of probability…”

“You’ll have to be more specific”

“We will see each other again…”

“I think…I like Bruce Wayne...”

Looking at your bandaged right hand, you sighed heavily. Of course, you knew why.

Ever since that fateful day, ever since you were brave enough to admit to yourself how you had accidentally fallen for Bruce Wayne, he was all you could think of. Every waking moment, every thought flavored with leisure, it seemed as if he had secretly kept you company in your heart. You kept recalling that conversation in his Lamborghini, which seemed far from superficial. The manner in which he treated your wounds and healed you, the manner in which he bailed you out of jail himself, they were certainly many a kind and intimate acts rolled up into a singular moment. No wonder you were blissful in the corners of your imagination during the Wi-fi breakdown that weekend. Like a woman glancing upon her hand with a new engagement ring, you took the pleasure of glancing at your right hand every single time with a smile and giggles that soon followed. After ages, you were stirred by someone. He excited you, he made you look forward to the days ahead. For it would open the door to so many possibilities. One being the possibility of bumping into him again. You had fallen for him so hard and so fast, you chose to still keep the thin bandages on, even it was no longer necessary.

For the bandage was merely the physical remnant of his concern, his kindness to you.

But, when the sun rose on Monday, and the cold, hard reality hit you in the face in so many forms, you were forced to face the bitterness as well. Bruce Wayne was wrong. You could estimate the power of probability, for the probability of meeting someone like him again was certainly low. With you being a mere Senior Manager in his company, and him the sole owner of his family inherited business, it seemed literally impossible to win his heart. Always photographed and seen with women of beauty, power, class and high society, he was indeed a man of regality. Meanwhile, you were just a middle-class Gotham native, currently sharing an average apartment with her friend, hoping for an upgrade in life. You closed the window, yet permitting the city lights to rest on your bed as you crawled under the sheets. You chuckled to yourself. Funny how you desired for someone of the least attainability, yet searching for a thread of hope. His kindness that day was certainly a product of sheer pity. In truth, it could be a possibility that you were merely fooling yourself. Besides, in technicality, he was indirectly your boss, your employer. Thus, causing these feelings to be unprofessional to the fullest, something you never stood up for.

Silly crush, it was just a silly crush. Just a silly crush, you thought to yourself. Why must you fall for people this fast? A trait that you clearly despised. A weakness indeed. Running your fingers through your hair, you held out your right hand in front of you. The tightly wrapped bandage stared at you with innocence. That symbol. It was his reminder. But also the reminder of your foolishness, and the reminder of your pain. It had to go. That was the only way. Through gritted teeth, you slowly peeled it off from your skin. Sincerely hoping your feelings would be peeled off from your poor heart as well. For they were an inconvenience.

Especially when they seemed so hopeless.

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(One Week Later)

The Annual Charity Dinner of the Wayne Foundation, had always targeted to raise massive funds for the most essential of charities that needed financial assistant. It was also an event that never failed to cause stress on you. Whether it was the overseeing, planning, and of course, tending to the guests.

But this year, it was the polar opposite for you.

“I’ll gladly be checking everything on the night…” you assured to Lillian few days before, “But I am not attending the dinner…” you insisted with much exaggeration. Truthfully, you pleaded, “It’s bad enough I caused enough embarrassment already…” you added, rubbing your temples with frustration.

And with very little chance of Bruce Wayne attending, there was no reason to attend at all. Wait! your brows furrowed at that thought. Why would that even matter?

Two hours before commencement, the HR organizing staff had gathered in the Hotel Banquet Hall. Whilst the waiters continued to set up the tables and decorations, you held responsibility in briefing the group. With your juniors and colleagues all dressed to the formal nine’s, you chose to punish yourself with all black semi-formal attire instead, in the form of black pants and a sequin embellished top with spaghetti straps. Regardless, you managed to fit in with the help of your rouge lipstick, which made an astounding difference.

“I believe all you are familiar with the schedule already…” your voice was rife with clarity, “….so to sum it all up: Make sure the guests arrive after proper check up…” you continued, as the others took notes nodding, “….make sure the drinks are served on time, make sure the entertainment will be ready when the starters are being served, and make sure-”

“-not to punch anyone?”

The sudden inquiry from Greg, caused unintentional laughter amongst the whole group. Nodding along to the silliness that was yet to be forgotten, you smiled tightly.

“Yes! Exactly, Greg!” You said, looking at everyone, “Don’t get too drunk and punch anyone like I did…” inciting more laughter, “Okay? Well...Good Luck! And Enjoy!”

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An hour had passed. You listened to the speeches and the formalities made. You coordinated the needful with the convenience of a walkie talkie. You ticked away every task on your notepad. All the while you were willingly caged in the VIP sitting room right next to the Hall. Finally, with the toasts were in completion, Dinner was served, Live entertainment was ready, the real fun had begun. And you were finally free. Yet, with you choosing to remain in the room, you figured you deserved all the similar luxuries at your own privacy.

Which also included alcohol.

A young waiter entered the room with a bubbly persona. "Good Evening, Ma'am. You ordered Whiskeys for two, am I correct?" he inquired, subtly looking around as you approached him. “You certainly are…" you replied with an equal bubbly tone, "You see…One for this guy…" you said, as you left hand picked up one glass, "...and One for this bad boy right here” you added when your right hand took the other. "Cheers!" you sniggered, watching the unimpressed waiter walk away shaking his head. You did not blame him. Your jokes were only so-so.

This unexpected pressure to be on your best behavior certainly did not help you with your patience, forcing you to drink even without a scrap on food in your stomach. A sense of freedom was always offered to you the moment the whiskey touched your lips. Suddenly all the stress that littered in your brain were gone, and it felt nothing but sparkly fresh. The moment the alcohol began to wind your body up like a toy, you knew music was the one missing element.

A cool spray of dance synth reached your ears in a progressive manner. Hearing the first few seconds of the song, you were intoxicatingly elated to find out what the song was. Freeing your tresses from the constraints of the half ponytail, you stood up from your armchair, swaying to the introductory verse of “Eyes on You” by M-22, Arlissa and Kiana Ledé :

“When I feel your tempo and I hear you echo Don't let go, don't let go You set the rhythm, I take my position Position, position...”

Your chest began to pop in double time as the song progressed to a faster pace. Infused with the side swaying, your drink however remained intact. Taking another sip whilst you danced, your right hand forced you to glance at it. There may have not been a bandage anymore, but the thin healing scars were visible enough to bring the reminder: Bruce Wayne.

“Can't take my eyes off you, my eyes off you No matter what you do, no, no way...”

Throwing your head back, the body slowly rolled in rhythm. During which that mind of yours, truly began to wonder about the craziest things. Would he, the great Bruce Wayne, enjoy this? Would you be better at this than the other girls he had been with combined? With eyes closed, the confidence in your dancing swelled. He was indeed quite desirable, that Bruce Wayne. Your drunken self was clearly unfiltered with opinions. Ah! Bruce Wayne.

“Ahem!" Someone cleared their throat, forcing you to quickly open your eyes.

Only to find the actual Bruce Wayne, standing a few feet before you. And just right then, the heart did not hesitate to signal its beat to increase in deathly speed.

Like fuckin’ beetle juice, you thought to yourself.

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Sharply dressed as always, never did Bruce Wayne fail to look attractive, ever. Truthfully, it seemed possibly impossible for him to do so. Though your body reacted to the sight of him with devotion, your intoxicated heart had other plans.

“Ah! Mr. Wayne! ” You cried out louder than you should. Lifting your glass, the intoxication was evident in your tone, “Welcome …to my Private party…”, followed by a giggle, “…You here to tinkle?” Your inquiry was full of mischief.

“Actually…Yes, I am…” the Billionaire replied. How exactly he said it, you had difficulty remembering, “Are you alright?” He asked with concern. A concerned voice laced with his signature softness. You scoffed with disbelief. “Me? I’m FINNNE!” You answered, your last word seemingly elongated and possibly dragged, “But …wait a minute…” squinting one’s eyes, you pointed at him bravely, “W-Why do you keep…seeing me drunk??”, You slurred, “WAIT! You know what?…” you cried out, before he could even answer, “Don’t care…” you said proudly, as you turned away. “Gonna quit this job anyways…” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes. Yet you danced, in hopes he would stand there and watch you. You danced, in hopes he would have a spark of interest somehow. With your intoxication unlocking the doors to the inner desires of your heart, you now had access to them all. And that was what you actually desired for. His attraction, his approval, his validation, his love. Taking in more sips to burn your tongue, you felt braver and energized. You felt cheeky too, in fact.

You wanted to turn back, facing him with such confidence that he could not resist you. But you only managed to sink your heart instead.

For he was gone.

Landing on the armchair once again, you wondered if what you just saw, was just an illusion. Regardless, you knew one thing for sure: You never felt so foolish. Gulping down the last of your drink, you collapsed to the armchair once again. Clarity had finally dawned on you: You were never really over him. You were just that stupid, foolish girl, hopeless about someone who will never care back.

Curse these emotions! This heaviness that lingered in your chest burdened you. Unrequited emotions could never be as torturous as this. For it would be the constant sadness that will remain. Desire leads to impatience, impatience leads to disappointment. The disappointing fact that Bruce Wayne will never look your way, even though you hope to.

You have never felt sorry for yourself. But being drunk, it was easier to do so. And with your inhibitions lowered in a rush, it did not take long for that pitiful heart to sink in further deep. And it certainly did not take long for the tears to slowly form around your eyes as well.

The truth was to be faced, you were worthless, you were never good enough for him. Blind and hopeless, this was just a ridiculous idea in the first place. Bowing your head down, you allowed your self to cry softly, reaching out for the other glass. Tonight, it seemed the only company you had were the echoing music, the burning alcohol and your salty, never ending tears. Truthfully, they may possibly be obliged to keep you company forever.

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Two glasses of whiskey got you incredibly intoxicated, especially with no food in your system. As it should. Yet, you were conscious enough to make an exit before causing any more trouble to anyone ever again. Sneaking out into the lobby from the secret exit of the room, you managed to head out in peace. With your handbag slung over your shoulder, you were on a dire attempt to wipe off the smudged mascara, sniffing softly as you exited the hotel.

Only to sigh in frustration when there were no taxis at this hour.

With the possession of two working legs on you, it was decided to walk further down the city to hail one. Unexpectedly, you found yourself walking down a smaller street, dark and lonely.

“Can't take my eyes off you, my eyes off you No matter what you do, no, no way…”

You sang to yourself quite lazily, as you made your way. Clang! The sound of a garbage bin falling down made you halt. Quickly turning back, you felt a slight dizziness in your head. Holding your head to stop the spinning, you took a few deep breaths. But when you looked back, there seemed to be nothing. Rats maybe, you thought, turning forward to resume your walk.

Only to scream as you found three men standing before you. Dressed in ragged, dull clothing, two of the men held out guns, while the other stood empty handed. Muggers, possibly?

“Gimme your wallet, Lady!”

The man wearing a beanie yelled out threateningly, brandishing his gun at you. Confirmed, they were indeed muggers. Though intoxication was in your system, sobriety took over for a few minutes to save your life.

“Okay…” you slurred, “…take it easy” you added calmly. The man furrowed his eyebrows. “You bossing me, bitch?” He yelled angrily.   “No! No! I was… talking to myself…” You answered quickly. Putting both hands up, you took a deep breath, “Let me just slowly…reach into my bag…” you said, while your right hand dug into the bag with certainty, “….and-ah shit!” Your heart sank immediately. “WHAT IS IT??” “I left my wallet…” you answered in all honesty, “ I-” “PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS IN THE AIR!!” The man bellowed. “Okay okay okay…” You responded. Maintaining your composure to much surprise, you tried not to stumble, “Listen…gentlemen…” you added, “This is not worth the trouble, okay?” You took a deep breath, “I’m drunk… and from the looks of it…” you showed your two hands, “…incredibly destitute! I have nothing to offer you-” You paused. The empty handed man was surprisingly quiet compared to the other two. Your eyes widened the moment he decided to finally weaponize himself, with a knife instead.

Seeing the sharp, shiny object, sent immediate signals of fear throughout your system. This man, he seemed to be more in control of his actions. His features were ambiguous, yet he seemed certain.

Very certain of the fact he will kill you tonight.

Before you could even flee, the other two had you surrounded from both sides. With your heart beating fast, your breath began to quicken. If money was out of your reach, then why would they still bother?

“What? Why are you doing that? Did I offend you in some way?” You pattered, watching the knife wielding man, “Did you think I was underestimating my self worth or something-ah crap! You’re coming closer” you said meekly, seeing the man confidently walk towards you. Leaving no choice, you put your bare fists up in defense. Yet you groaned with fear, “Oh!...Why the hell am I talking so much when I’m nervous-” The moment you almost felt the side of the knife graze your arm, the moment you almost had your life taken, your eyes caught the sight of a giant black figure jumping on top of him. “ARGH!!” Falling on your back from the indirect push, you looked on to see the knife wielder cry out loudly. You sat up, gasping as you watched the him being incapacitated, and instantly tied to the nearest pipe. All by that Dark Figure. The figure whose cloak blew to the side by the sudden gust of wind.

It was Batman. In the flesh.

Distressed, the other two muggers began to fire shots, only to have those pitiful bullets be deflected weakly, leaving them powerless even with their weapons. Batman charged towards them in the form of a walk, whilst they kept shooting, all until their bullets finally ran out. Skillfully avoiding their amateur punches and kicks, Batman’s responsive blows were godlike by nature, leaving them down on the ground faster than expected. With added aching pains. Getting up on your feet, you watched the caped crusader tie them up.

“You alright?” He asked, in a gruff voice. You nodded frantically, awestruck by his power and presence. “Yeah…” you replied, clasping both hands together, “My god…That was-” “Hey Ma’am! Do you want me to call 911?” An older, good samaritan cried out from the other side of the street. It was possible he may have heard gunshots from a mere few seconds ago. Looking over to him, you smiled. “Yeah, that would great, Thanks” you yelled back politely. Sighing with relief, you knew your gratitude was deserved by someone else, “And thank-” You quickly towards Batman, “….you” Only to find him gone. Poof! Disappeared into thin air.

The culprits appeared far from powerful as they rolled around and groaned in pain, hands tied to various stationary objects on the ground. You could not fathom what just happened. But most importantly, you could not believe you were still alive. All thanks to him. The Dark Knight.

Your heartbeat increased once again. To make matters worse, a strange feeling formed in your stomach, a feeling that traveled all over your body. It made you uneasy and sweaty. Not to mention the quickened breathing. Before you could even dare to decipher these sudden effects, life decided to answer that riddle for you. The moment you collapsed to the ground to hurl up a thin stream of vomit. As you went through the horrid process, your tongue certainly was stained with the taste of whiskey and bile. “Er…Ma’am?” You heard the kind man from afar once again, “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m good…” you said hoarsely, waving your hand with assurance, “I’m good…I-Argh!-”

Assurance had very little battery life when you continued to vomit even more. An apt punishment for drinking two whiskeys on an empty stomach. You earned this for sure.

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Chapter 3 HERE!

Tagged: @tealaquinn @ladyerina @kittenlittle24 @wholesumm @everyday-imfangirling @depressed-comrad @works-of-fanfiction @bale-is-a-babe @thats-aight @badsext

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

Damienette Arranged Marriage: part 2

Part 1

This

Okay. Here comes another part. I apologize if I missed someone for the Tag list, but in two days this got more responses than my other fics get in a week.

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from and me for the plot.

Damienette Arranged Marriage: part 2

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"I am so sorry they dragged you into this!" She started to apologize to him and trying to hug him. His instincts told him to push her away, but he was too stunned to follow on it. This girl was actually apologizing him for her life being ruined? Just where did his mother find her?

Marinette began to cry her heart out. She felt lost. The boy awkwardly reciprocated her hug, patting her back. His armor was not the most comfortable, but she didn’t care. The girl was always good at reading people. She could easily see that he was just as confused by this situation, only chose not show it.

Damian gave her one more look. The girl felt so fragile right now. When she first apologized to him something inside broke. She was kind, caring and selfless. His first thought was what was he pulled into. She apologized him for something she had no control over. Back home there were plenty of girl that once they found themselves in such situation would blame him, or even worse, try to abuse the situation. She chose to instead try and conform him. Tried being key word, because she quickly became a crying mess.

“I am sorry. I usually don’t break that easily…” She said between sobs. That was too much for Damian. He separated from her and cupped her hands with his. He noted that she was speaking french, but it wasn’t a problem for him. He was fluent in it. Learned it even before English actually.

“There is nothing you should apologize for. If anyone is to blame, it’s my mother and the old man who assisted her. You have no fault in this. I hold nothing against you” He did his best to comfort her. Even after spending five years with Bruce and the rest of ‘Batfam’ (He still didn’t like the name), Damian learned a bit about human interactions, but he was still far from any good at it. The bigger was his surprise that the girl actually calmed down a bit. She was no longer sobbing, but her eyes were still red and puffy. She nodded slowly.

“Thank you. I… I don’t usually shatter like that. I live… I lived in Paris.” She stated as if it would explain everything. Damian frowned at the past tense.

“Don’t worry. You will return there. Mother will not hold us captive for too long. Father will come for me soon.” He assured her.

“I… I…” She was at the loss of words. Before she gathered her thoughts and managed to say something, a new voice joined the conversation.

“Mistress Talia want to see you both. Please follow me.” Three assassins stood in front of them. Marinette quickly grabbed the cage with Tikki still inside and pulled her closer. She had no idea how to open this thing and Kwami was unhelpful in that matter. She looked at the boy. Only now she realized they never exchanged names. He nodded to her and stood up. She did too and stood next to him. Her ladybug instincts were telling her to try and find a way out, but common sense demanded she hide behind the boy.

She took a closer look at him. He was quite handsome. With green eyes deeper than even the ones of Adrien and fair skin. He had completely black hair that was combed back into spikes. His armor was decorated with some intricate design that any other day she would copy right away because it looked so amazing, but she was still feeling too down. It was dark gray with gold trimming. The red cape was held in place under his pauldrons and lower part formed into sort of skirt to protect his tights. He had the sword at his belt.

Damian snarled at the three assassins. “Lead the way. Be quick.” He acted as cold as he could, trying to act like he used to before his father showed him different path. To his amusement, the mooks stiffened and nodded quickly, leading them to his mother. Cowards. He scowled. It didn’t escape his attention that the girl held herself quite confident now, especially since she was a mess just a moment before. There was something strange about her. The creature she was carrying in the cage was constantly speaking to her in french and supporting her. Maybe she was not just some princess stolen from her life after all. At the same time, she was still a bit clumsy and easily scared. It made for… endearing combination. Just what the heck is going on with me!

They were led to a large, comfortable chamber witch held a single king-sized bed, a clean desk and a coffee table surrounded with three armchairs. All was mostly green, with addition of red. He knew this place. It was his mother’s private chamber.

“Hello Damian.” Speaking of the Devil, Talia walked from a doors in the far corner of the room. He didn’t notice them at first, but they were there. She was still dressed in her normal attire. The woman sat on one of the armchairs and pointed Marinette and Damian to do the same. He reluctantly did, and only then his ‘wife’ followed. “Tea?” Talia spoke in French, fully aware that her son would understand her, but unsure about the girl. She pointed to a fancy chinese Teapot and three cups on the table. Marinette did try to reach it, but Damian grabbed her by wrist and shook his head, earning a chuckle from his mother. “Oh please. Damian, poisoning you now would be counterproductive. I wouldn’t want to loose my new allies.”

“What is your game, Mother?” Damian hissed (also in French), but he let go of Marinette. She shakingly reached for the set. Talia smiled at the girl and helped her.

“Oh. Quite simple. Instead of removing a threat, I got us an ally.”

“Got you an ally. I already said I don’t want to have any part in this.” Damian said in cold fury. Marinette just sipped her tea, watching the two and slowly calming. She registered everything going on between them and her worries weren’t calmed in even smallest way.

“You will thank me one day son.” She stated. “But that’s not why I invited you two.” She pulled a small key and tossed it to Marinette, who instinctively catched it. As clumsy as she might be, she did have a good reflex. “There is no longer a point in holding the Kwami in cage.”

Instantly, the girl opened the cage and Tikki flew out, cuddling into Marinette. There were no spoken words between them, but the fact that they were both here was enough.

“What is this mother?”

“This, Damian, is a Kwami. A small god if you wish. But I am sure your wife will tell you more about it later. Now there is more pressing question: what’s next?”

“What do you mean?” Both the boy and girl asked confused.

“You are married now. But what do you plan on doing with it?” She smiled at the befuddled expression on their faces.

“First, I want to state that I despise you right now Mother. Forcing an innocent, powerless girl into this was crossing a line.”

“Excuse me?!” Tikki shouted, surprising Damian. “Marinette is anything but powerless! She is the bravest, kindest, most selfless and caring person that I know. She is strongest Ladybug yet so be careful how you speak about her, Heir of Demon!” The small Kwami shouted at the even more befuddled Damian. Talia was smirking until Tikki turned at her. The expression of cold fury didn’t work well on something so cute and with her pichy voice her anger was more endearing than scary. “And don’t get me started on you, daughter of Demon! You dare forcing my Chosen into this disgusting plots of yours. You are lucky she is too important to me to endanger her because otherwise I would get Plagg to wipe out this whole mountain range just to get you!”

Back in her armchair, Marinette tried to meld with the furniture. She wanted to disappear, become invisible. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but be thankful to Tikki. She was defending her and Marinette was happy to know that she is cared about. The girl looked at the two other humans in the room to see the boy… her husband… unnerved by the Kwami and the woman… her mother-in-law… looking amused. “Tikki! I think that’s enough. I just want to go home, to my parents…” Ladybug tried to calm her friend.

“I believe we were not yet properly introduced.” The woman stated. “I am Talia Al Ghul and this is my son…”

“Damian Wayne.” The boy interrupted, sending a deathly glare at his mother.

Marinette stared at him with an open mouth like he just declared to be a werewolf. She never saw any pictures of Wayne kids before, but something was telling him this was true. He didn’t need to lie to her in any way. They were already married. On that thought she had to keep tear from forming in her eye. She then realized that he was waiting for her.

“Oh! Right! Sorry! My name is Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Or now it will be Marinette Wayne? Or Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne? Do you use your mother’s name as well? Because then it would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng Al Ghul Wayne… Oh Kwami! How am I supposed to fit it under ‘name’ label in documents!” She started babbling completely random things until Damian placed a hand on her.

“Calm down. Breath. Don’t worry about it. I will take care of this.” His voice was perfectly calm, without any emotions. His face also took a bit more genial appearance, but he was still scowling in his mother’s direcion. Marinette slowly returned to senses.

“I am so sorry. I usually don’t panic. You know. Living in paris with all the Akumas.” She actually smiled. Never before Damian saw such prominent smile.

“What is Akuma?” He asked.

“Wait, you never heard about Hawkmoth?” She asked surprised. “I thought the news reached to America… Maybe that’s because Justice League ignored…” She stopped for a moment, remembering that her identity was supposed to be a secret, but then again, with Tikki floating around there was no real point in trying to cover it. “ignored my call for help back when I first became Ladybug. It’s been almost two years now that he is terrorizing Paris though.” She remembered when she became Ladybug, after particularly close Akuma attack she decided to call in help. She used her yo-yo to contact the League, but Green Lantern laughed in her face, calling it prank and threatening to sue her.

“And Justice League didn’t do anything? You look my age!”

“I am fifteen thank you very much.” She huffed.

“Exactly! So you’ve been doing it since you were twelve? Did you at least have some help?”

“Well, there was my partner, Chat Noir. And later on Master Fu trained me to be the next guardian.” She saddened on the thought of her former teacher.

“So two barely-teenagers were the only people protecting city from a terrorist attacks?” Damian was suddenly fuming. He had no idea why, but he felt protective over this ray of sunshine. She did not deserve this. “And the Justice League didn’t help?” She shook her head in response. Damian felt his hand instinctively go to his sword.

“But that’s a good thing. I don’t think I would be able to deal with akumatized Superman. Or even Flash. Or any other hero.”

“Don’t worry. I will have a talk with them about that.”

“You know them?!” Marinette screamed. Well, he was Wayne, but she didn’t think even the richest family in America had this kind of connections.

Talia watched this exchange with amusement. Maybe this girl wouldn’t be so bad for her son. She was reluctant to agree to this, but ultimately it was necessary. And now that she saw them interact they seemed like perfect couple. She brought light into the darkness that dwelled in her son while he gave her stability.

“Guess since you revealed your secret to me, it would be only fair for me to reciprocate.” He stated, sighting. “I am Robin.” He dropped the bomb as casually as he could. She looked at him with open eyes.

Before either could say anything more, there was a commotion outside. Talia instantly jumped from her chair and pulled her gun. Damian drew the sword and held it close. For a brief moment a memory of the attack Deathstroke led at the temple five years ago returned to his mind. Marinette looked at Tikki. The Kwami nodded, instantly understanding what was that about. “Tikki! Spots on!” She shouted and pink light enveloped her. When it died, Marinette was now dressed in red skintight bodysuit covered in black spots and with a black turtleneck. On her face was a red mask with five black spots that were in a symmetrical design. The bands holding her hair back became red ribbons, resembling a ladybug's antenas.

Damian wanted to stare at the girl, but the commotion got closer and closer to the doors. He took stance, ready to attack. Next to him, Ladybug started to spin her yo-yo in front, forming a pink shield.

The doors finally bursted open, revealing a towering man in suit that resembled bat in some way. “Demon Spawn!” Behind him came another voice, calling to the boy. Former assassin only groaned.

“Shut up Todd!” He scowled and sheathed his sword. “Looks like cavalry is finally here. Took you long enough.” Damian turned to Marinette. “Meet my father and a bunch of idiots that he adopted. I am still the only blood son mind you.” He announced that last one with pride.

“Whatever keeps you running demon spawn.”

“Stay silent Drake or I will make you!”

Bruce watched stunned. “Damian! No names in the field.” Batman gave another murderous glare at the girl. Everything about her practically screamed hero, but Bruce was a tidy bit overprotective about his family. To his surprise, the girl didn’t even flinch at his best patented bat-stare ®. She just smiled, but Damian spoke faster.

“I already told her about us. She knows who I am and even a complete idiot would figure the rest from there. And mother knew all along, so I still don’t see a problem here.”

“And why would you tell her everything?!” Jason screamed, still hidden behind Batman’s towering posture.

“Because she is my wife Todd!” Damian screamed. The silence in the room was thick enough that if the assassin swinged his sword, he would be able to cut it in half. Finally, Bruce was the one to break it.

“Fuck.”

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)

@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman

#fanfic #fanfiction #crossover #marinette x damian #guardian!marinette #maribat au #maribat #damienette #arranged marriage au #maridami #order of the guardians #league of assassins #batman

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animemangasoul · 4 years

Text

Save Him From Him!

Summery: The team thinks the bats are marrying Tim off to Ra’s al ghul, so they confront them. The bats unfortunately don’t know what the hell is going on.

Me and the lovely @miss-choco-chips are hopefully going to make a coherent fic out of this

Chapter 1

Kon had never liked Tim’s family.

His best friend might find redeemable qualities in them, but Kon has always known the kind of people they were. Sleazy, weird, neglectful and frankly very very creepy.

Tim of course never noticed because he too was very creepy and in the kindest of terms, also a weirdo who came off as a stalker.

Not that he was. Following a vigilante in the dead of night with a camera was more in the brackets of observation than stalking and Kon would stick with that till the day he died.

Anyways, as he was saying. The batfamily were irredeemable blotch in Tim’s life and while Kon has resigned himself to share his friend with them because custody and all that, he had never ever imagined that they would sell him off! That they not only would grow tired of him but would actually take the offending and criminal actions to do something about his quote on quote unwanted “presence”.

Bruce Wayne had come to an agreement with Ra’s Al Ghul according to Bart’s sources and the agreement was set around their Tim.

Bruce had promised their Tim to the demon head! In exchange for three years of peace. As if that even mattered to Batman. If that man cared so much about peace and justice he would have advocated for the death penalty in Gotham a long time ago. No, Kon had his sneaking suspicions about Bruce’s relationship with the Joker, but it wasn’t his place to say so he kept his mouth shut.

Poor Jason would be heartbroken if he knew after all.

So for what other reason was this arrangement made under? Kon couldn’t quite tell. Sure he knew they didn’t like Tim, but if Bruce disliked his best friend and wanted to get rid of him, why hadn’t he promised to wed him to any of them? Kon was sure Cassie or Bart would be up for it, or even Miguel and Cissie? So why?

Kon is angry, furious, horrified about this whole uncovered plot.

Bart and Cassie aren’t any different.

Tim of course doesn’t know, and if Kon gets his way he never will.

“Maybe this is a misunderstanding?” Someone says.

Kon turns to glare at Miguel. ‘How naive’ he thinks. ‘How little you know.’

“It’s not a misunderstanding dude,” Bart jumps out of his chair, a stack of paper in hand which he promptly shoves at the other hero. “Read.”

Miguel does. Eyes quickly skimming over the report Bart’s spy had so generously provided them. And it’s a lot but the front page summarizes must of it.

Batman had visited the league, him and Ra’s had talked.

“And Ra’s said he’ll back off if he got Tim,” Miguel reads out loud. “What the--”

His eyes are wide as he throws paper after paper over his shoulder trying to grasp the context of the file. Bart is darting behind him catching each flying paper, spluttering in indignation as he does so.

“Can you not do this!”

“That’s exactly what Tim’s siblings should have said to Bruce!” Miguel bursts out, eyes as wide as dinner plates. “How could he just promise him Tim! My Ti-- I mean our Tim! He could have given him anything else..... like that Jason fellow!”

“Dude, that’s not---”

“Like Ra’s didn’t even ask for Tim specifically!” Throwing another three leaflets he points at a paragraph on page fifteen. “He just alludes to it, so why did Bruce decide to give him--”

“Cuz he probably did that weird thing with his eyes,” Cassie scoffs, demonstrating the action by wiggling her brows and squinting her eyes in that distinct way Ra’s always-- “Batman,” she slurs. “I have missed a certain someone’s company~”

Kon feels sick. Miguel turns green and Bart grimaces.

Yeah, that did not need to happen.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Kon tells her, eyes watering with pained memories. “Just.... don’t.”

She snorts. “I’m just saying.”

“Yeah don’t,” Miguel mutters. “There is already enough memories about that guy burned in our heads I rather you not add to it.”

Trauma was really a powerful thing.

“So,” Bart interrupts Kon musing. “What are we going to do about this?”

Kon folds his arms. “We need to confront them. No way we can let this go through. I think the reason why Bruce agreed so readily to this exchange was cuz he hates Tim’s guts and wants to get rid of him.”

“But Tim is so wonderful,” Miguel mutters. “Why would anyone want to get rid of him?”

Shrugging, Kon grimaces. “Beats me. The bats are a strange bunch. Anyways, it doesn’t really matter now. We just have to go there and,” his reaches out and clenches and unclenches his fists

“Squash their heads?” Cassie guesses.

“What, no!” Kon snaps.

“Kidnap Beelzebub and hold him for ransom till they change their minds?” Bart pipes up.

Kon shakes his head, pauses and shakes it again. “No, but that’s a good one. Hold that thought.”

“Talk to them reasonable and maybe.... hopefully it’s all a misunderstanding?”

Oh Miguel, you innocent naive, Tim loving soul you. “Fuck no,” Kon mutters. “We can trust their evil conniving hearts. When dealing with the bats always assume the worst.”

“Then what?” Bart asks, half of the papers clutches to his chest while the others dangle from Miguel’s hands.

“We confront them, threaten them,” Kon starts. “And if they won’t take it back, we...” snapping his fingers he points at Bart--. “We kidnap the gremlin and threaten to squash his head.”

Cassie looks both annoyed and skeptical, but the other two look onboard so Kon grins. “Sounds like a plan?”

They nod, he nods back. “Let’s go then and break that engagement before Tim wakes up for his hourly coffee!!”

A shouts of yeah ok and yes and oh God sounds all around, but Kon is glad for the general moral optimism. Maybe this exchange with the batfamily wouldn’t end in a disaster.

Kon had to thank Prue later for providing Bart this crucial intel. Without her, they would have never known of this evil scheme.

@miss-choco-chips Do take it from here!

#kon el kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #Miguel Jose Barragan #Young Justice #tim drake #batfamily #crack fic

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celestialbarnes · 4 years

Text

undercover night out

pairing: dick grayson x reader

summary: reader and dick go undercover at an event where some feelings end up coming out

a/n: i’m starting a little series from the ‘100 ways to say i love you’ list. send me a number(s) + a titans character if you wanna! also, whew this is a little longer than my usual lol oopsies

this is 50.”i think you’re beautiful.” + 56.“it brings out your eyes.”

gif credit: @dianahprince

You were in the middle of sparring with Donna when Dick and Kory came into the room, frustrated looks on both of their faces. You were so focused on Dick you weren’t paying attention which gave Donna the perfect opportunity to swipe your legs, causing you to land flat on your butt.

“Donna, c’mon,” Dick shot the girl a glare as he crouched down to your level. “Are you okay?” Concern laced his voice as he helped you stand up. The way his hand lingered on your lower back didn't go noticed by Donna or Kory; both girls sharing a look.

You nodded, not trusting your voice just yet. Dick kept his eyes locked onto yours which made the butterflies in your stomach erupt. You couldn’t tell who it was, but one of the girls cleared their throat, breaking Dick out of his little trance.

The man shook his head and pulled away from you, turning his attention to his oldest friend in the room,”You can’t be so rough with her, you know she isn’t as trained as us.” Donna rolled her eyes at him blew him off as usual.

“We know that,” Kory’s calm as ever voice spoke, “but Y/N does still need to learn basic fighting skills even if she doesn’t go out with us.”

She wasn’t wrong and Dick knew it, which is why he stayed silent. You’ve only been with the Titans for a few months, being introduced to them by Bruce Wayne. He discovered your abilities when he read about some girl magically healing the illnesses and ailments of Gotham’s homeless. Some would say your powers were unique, you were able to heal almost any wound or imperfection on someone. Jason got stabbed? A few minutes of you touching the area and he’d be good as new. Hank’s shoulder acting up? You massaged him once and it was gone forever. The only downside was that it took a lot of energy from you. You needed a days and a half rest after helping Hank, not that you told the others that.

“What brought you guys down here anyways?” Donna asked, bringing her water bottle to her lips.

Dick tensed up again as Kory sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Well, you know that guy we’ve been tracking?”

“The one leaving those explosives all over Gotham?” You looked up at Dick who nodded, confusion on his face. “Gar likes to talk a lot.” You answered, a shy smile on your face. You didn't know if Gar was supposed to be telling you those things. Oops.

“Y-Yeah uh-,” Dick had to force himself to stop looking at you or he’d never get his point across. “We found out that he’s going to be at some fancy event tonight, no doubt planting the next bomb.”

You perked up, “That’s great! You guy’s are finally going to catch him!”

Dick let out a chuckle before shaking his head, “Maybe. We don’t want to ambush him too early and miss him planting it and cause a commotion at the event or get there too late and the building go up with everybody in it.”

Kory was the next to speak, “So I was thinking we send someone into the event, a couple maybe, to scope it out and find out exactly when he’s going to make his move. That way whoever we have in there with help with getting people out in time.”

“Who were you thinking?” You innocently asked, looking at the pink haired girl.

“Well...” She trailed off as she looked between you and Dick who already knew what she was doing.

“Kory, no-” He began to object but you cut him off by agreeing and asking about the dress attire.

Donna grabbed your arm and began leading you out of the room, “Oh I've got that covered, Y/N.”

After two hours of Donna and Dawn doing your hair and makeup, you were finally ready to leave with Dick. Were you nervous? A bit. It wasn’t about the whole going undercover and potentially getting caught in an explosion thing though, your nerves were coming from the total lovesick part of your brain that was finally realizing you were going to be technically going out with the man you’ve been crushing on since arriving to the tower.

The red floor length dressed hugged your body in all the right places and the heels Dawn chose were perfect for you. You heard your name being yelled from the living room which meant it was your time to come out. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror and took a deep breath before walking out to where everybody was waiting.

Dawn and Donna already knew what you looked like, but that didn’t stop them from letting out hollers that made your cheeks burn red. Kory and Rachel gushed about how gorgeous the dress looked on you while Gar and Hank sent respectful smiles your way. You looked around and noticed Dick wasn’t there yet which made you frown. Jason quickly made his way to you, the teenage boy in him coming out as he looked you up and down.

“May I say Y/N, if I knew you’d be the one going undercover looking like this, well lets just-” Jason was cut off by Dick clapping his hand on his shoulder a little too harder than normal.

“Let’s stop that right there, yeah?” Dick playfully shoved the younger boy away before taking you in, his eyes raking up and down and not in the way Jason’s had previously did. He looked as handsome as ever. Of course he wore a suit and tie, his ridiculously soft looking hair was parted and styled just the way you liked it.

Kory once again broke you two out of your little moment, handing Dick a little ear piece and explaining what would be going down. “We’ll be able to talk through these, the second you see him making his move, start helping people out and we’ll be in. Got it?” She looked at him and he nodded. “Great,” She smiled. “Now go have fun!” She motioned towards the elevators which made you laugh.

You and Dick stood side by side as the elevator went down. “Are you feeling okay?” He asked, no doubt noticing as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Oh yeah, of course. This just isn’t my normal outfit or makeup, you know?” You motioned to the dress on your body.

“I think you’re beautiful.” Dick smiled your way as the door opened. He reached his hand out for you to grab and you did. The way he smiled and spoke to you made your stomach churn in the best way.

The event was in full swing by the time you two got there. Dick guided you to the bar which had a pretty perfect view of the whole area. You made a mental count of how many exits there were as Dick ordered drinks. You raised your brows as he handed you the glass.

“Remember, Kory said to have fun. One won’t hurt.” His signature smirk was enough for you to touch your glass to his before taking a sip.

Dick stayed close to you at all times, not that you minded. A few older people came up to you two and began talking about charity, apparently this event was to raise money for the local battered women's shelter. Dick promised a nice donation to the cause, in Bruce’s name of course. Soft music began to play and the dance floor soon was getting filled with couples. You watched as they swayed together, wishfully thinking how nice it would be do dance with your date for the night. As if he was reading your mind, he spoke up, “Care for a dance?”

You began to protest, “Dick, we need to keep an eye out-”

He shook his head, “I can still keep an eye on him, he’s out there dancing too actually.” You followed his gaze to the dance floor where a slightly older man was dancing with a younger woman.

“Okay, one dance.” You gave in, letting him lead you to the middle of the room.

His arms were around your waist, his grip not too tight, but you still felt it. Your arms hung loosely around his neck, the heels you wore made you the perfect height for him and for that you thanked Dawn.

“This is nice,” You mused, giving him a small smile. “It’s good to be out of the tower for a while. I’m surprised you were okay with my joining you.”

That confession made him stop in his tracks, his brow furrowing, “What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrugged and motioned for him to start moving again as you began talking, “I don’t know. I for sure thought you’d ask Donna or Kory to accompany you. They have the training and have been out in the field unlike me.” Your shoulders sagged a bit as you said the last part, his comment from earlier saying you weren’t as trained as them hitting a nerve.

Dick’s grip on your waist tightened, making you look up at him. “I kinda asked for Kory to mentioned it while you we're around, secretly hoping you’d volunteer or say yes.”

Now it was your turn to be confused, “You what?”

“I thought it’d be my one chance and I had to take it. If you haven't noticed, Y/N, I kind of really like you.” His cheeks tinted a light shade of pink as it dawned on you.

“Oh.” You let out, your brain still processing his words.

Dick took that dry response as you rejecting him. His hands dropped from your waist and he turned to walk away, cursing at himself for being so stupid. You quickly reached out and grabbed him, pulling him back to you.

“I-I like you too. That’s why I was so nervous about this; didn’t want to screw it up or anything.” You let your hand drop from his arm, looking down as you felt the blood rush to your face.

He let out a laugh that made you look up at him, “You could never screw this up. We’re both-” He stopped talking as his gaze drifted behind you. You turned and saw the man you were after sneaking off to the back rooms of the building. You looked at Dick with wide eyes as he pressed the ear piece Kory gave him, explaining it was about to go down and for the team to hurry up.

Dick looked around the crowded room and you immediately knew what he was doing. “Theres two exits, one on each side at the front of the building.”

He grabbed your hands in his as he spoke, “You take the left and I'll take the right. Once everybody is out, you stay there with them. We got this, okay?” He didn’t give you time to answer as he dashed off to his side of the doors. You quickly began telling people about a poisonous gas leak that was happening and everybody ran to the doors, filing out into the parking lot across the street.

You anxiously bit your lip as you looked at the building, hoping and praying your friends would make it out safe and alive. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t notice Donna and Hank dragging the guy out of the building till you heard shouting. Kory and Donna followed behind them, assuring everybody on the street that everything was fine now. Jason came out next holding a briefcase which you assumed held whatever explosive the man had.

Minutes passed and still no sight of Dick. You were beginning to worry even more as you headed towards Kory till you heard a shout of your name.

“HEY, Y/N!” Dick, dressed in his nightwing outfit called out. You let out a sigh of relief as you jogged towards him and basically threw yourself into his arms. He let out a laugh as he removed his eye mask and wrapping his arms around you.

“You took so long to come out and I saw Donna and Hank with the guy so everything was okay, but you never-” You were cut off by him crashing his lips onto yours. Your hands cupped his face as his held on tightly to your waist.

Pulling apart, you rested your forehead on his and let out a giggle, “Please shut me up like that whenever you want.” Dick shook his head before pecking your lips once again.

“Let’s get back to the tower.” His arm wrapped around your shoulder as you began walking. The crowd had already dispersed, half the people going back in and half leaving.

You paused and pulled away, finally taking the time to look at his outfit. You had never seen him in it, he was usually changed out of it when you were done healing everybody after nights out. “I like the outfit,” You looked him up and down like he did to you earlier. “It brings out your eyes.” You teased, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You were really glad Bruce found you.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #titans imagine #titans x reader #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #dc imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #100 ways to say i love you #my imagine

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Through Hoods, Through Lace, Through Hearts--We'll Find Our Healing PT.1

Jason Todd x Reader Story (Arkhamverse)

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I started playing Arkham Knight again and got inspired. Who woulda thought?? Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham wasn’t exactly safe since Batman—or Bruce Wayne—had died. All things considered, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be now that Red Hood had moved in and started tackling the criminals Batman had left behind—permanently. Killer Moth had been the first and Roman Sionis was the second to go, and while Red Hood hadn’t outright claimed it, the leftover crew that hadn’t been pumped full of lead, had said that they saw the vigilante leaving, so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. And it didn’t stop there.

Red Hood had started in on Penguin’s gang too. Now that Batman wasn’t around to stop the weapons and drug smuggling, it’d given the infamous gang leader a free ticket into Gotham. There were some reports about the neighboring vigilante Nightwing coming over from Blüdhaven to stop him. Rumor had it that someone said they even saw him and the Red Hood working together at one point, but it didn’t seem all to believable as the latter didn’t seem to be the partnering type.

That being said, with no one to stop him from killing all the criminals he wanted, a lot of the small-time fish got out of the business, not wanting to be met at the end of Red Hood’s handguns—it’s the exact reason she got out of the game. The money was good, and she was a damn good thief, but no amount of payout was worth her life. But somehow, trouble always managed to find her again.

***

Her file might’ve gotten deleted from GCPD’s database, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take the easy way down the street and risk an officer recognizing her. She stuck to the back alleys like usual, ignoring the catcalls and sleazy comments about her outfit, but still keeping her brass knuckles around her hand—could never be too careful in Gotham.

Working an honest job sucked in her opinion, and the only thing more humiliating than working at Super-Babes was the number of tips she was getting at the end of her shift. Maybe if she smiled and flirted a bit more, they’d give her a tenner instead of a fiver. She’d half a mind to shove that five down the asshole’s throat after he ran his hand up the back of her thigh, but she was lucky that Tony had been working the kitchen shift—watching him throw the guy out on his ass was payment enough.

Even if she was managing to scrape by, working a restaurant job was kicking her ass, and something deep inside her itched for one more heist, but with the Red Hood stalking the city, there was no way in hell that she was going to risk it. The man had a reputation for leaving bodies and shell cases, and she wasn’t going to be the former. No, she was working towards a better future, getting back on track, and even if she was waitress, she was doing a lot better than most of the old crew. Most of them had either joined up with Black Mask, in hindsight, a horrible error on their part, or gotten thrown back into lockup. She was lucky—she got out during the recovery of Gotham after the whole Scarecrow and Arkham Knight deal. But that didn’t stop them from sending her the occasional request of her skills. All they received was a big ‘fuck no and fuck you’.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N). Finally tracked you down.” Speak of the devil.

“Alex,” she sighed heavily as she turned halfway, catching sight of her old partner—and old flame, but that wasn’t important. “Figured you would at some point.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Alex chuckled and leaned against the wall. “No need to be so touchy. I just wanted to talk.”

(Y/N) shook her head and hiked her purse higher onto her shoulder, fingers tightening around the brass knuckles in her pocket.

“If it’s not about my next shift at Super-Babes, I don’t give a rat’s ass what it is,” she countered, glaring at him.

“That’s where you’ve been working?” he questioned, but his tone gave way to the knowingness in his gaze. “Really?”

“Not like there’s anywhere else for ex-thieves to apply, Alex,” (Y/N) grumbled. “Employers are pretty meticulous when it comes to criminal records.”

“I’m not.”

She glowered at him. “I’m not interested in whatever you want me to do for you.”

“Even if you’ll get paid?” he suggested.

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask,” she sighed, eyes narrowing at the grin that split across his face. “What are you doing?”

Alex pulled out a file and walked up to her. “I knew you couldn’t resist a big payout.”

“Fuck you,” she grunted, swiping the manilla folder from him. “Shine a light for me.”

He pulled out his phone and flicked his flashlight on, watching as she read the papers, occasionally flipping the sheets.

All at once, she paused and gaped at him. “Wayne Manor?” She blinked. “You wanna `excavate Wayne Manor?”

Alex nodded and turned the flashlight off, stowing the phone back into his pocket. “Good plan, isn’t it?”

(Y/N) breathed in shock and lowered the folder. “Are you insane?”

“I’m failing to see your issue with this.”

“You want to excavate the home of a dead man. You really can’t see the issue with it?”

“That he’s dead?” Alex offered. “Technically that’s not graverobbing. He’s been dead for like a year and a half.”

(Y/N) turned and took a step. “That’s not the issue Alex!” She spun back around and hissed, “Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

“Keyword was. Not anymore.”

“I don’t give a shit. If Bruce Wayne was Batman, then there’s a very strong chance that there’s still defenses laid around the grounds.”

“In that pile of rubble? Not likely, but that’s why I need you to help me.”

“No,” (Y/N) declared. “I’m not going anywhere near that place.”

Alex let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “And why not? You never really liked Batman. Didn’t he put you in jail once or twice?”

“Bruce Wayne was a good man that did his best to help this city whether he was dressed as Batman or not.” She affirmed. “He saved people, gave them jobs, helped them turn their lives around. No,” she shook her head. “I don’t want any part of this job, Alex. Now, later, or forever. I’m trying to do better, and you should too.”

Alex scoffed. “Oh please, getting tips for dressing like slutty Wonder Woman isn’t doing better (Y/N), and you know it.”

She ignored the insult and shrugged. “Maybe not, but I go to sleep at night knowing that I’m not going to get shot by Red Hood or some greedy gangbanger.”

At that, Alex paused and stared at her. “Are you really afraid of that prick?”

(Y/N) scowled. “That pricktook out Black Mask and his entire operation within twenty-four hoursthen immediately turned his attention on the rest of the scumbags in this city.” Taking a step towards him, she added, “He doesn’t break bones and leave you lying in pain like Batman did, Alex. He makes sure you don’t get up again. Ever. I’m not risking my neck for anything that’s stuck in Wayne’s basement.”

The man across from her was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I can’t sway you in any way?”

She yanked her hand out of her jacket pocket and flashed the knuckles around her hand. “I’d stop swaying and start running instead.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was, “Oh fuck!” then he spun around and hauled off like his ass was on fire.

(Y/N) stood there dumbfounded. Sure, she could be intimidating, but there was no way she was that scary. Instead of questioning it, she shrugged and shoved the folder into her skirt, then turned sharply on her heel to start on her way back to her apartment. Until she walked straight into someone’s chest.

She gasped as she stumbled backwards, knowing she was going to fall on her ass when strong hands grasped her upper arms, keeping her upright. (Y/N) looked up and met the very man she’d been talking about. Suddenly, Alex’s explicative and escape made perfect sense.

“Oh fuck!” she blurted out, and impulsively swung her knuckled fist at the jaw of his helmet. He caught her hand with an ease and spun her around, pressing her front up against the brick wall.

“Fuck me. Oh, fuck me,” she hissed, cursing herself for not telling Alex to stick it where the sun didn’t shine the second he found her. Now here she was about to get murdered by a trigger-happy vigilante with a grudge.

“Really? Right here? But someone could see us?” The humor in his tone drew a startled laugh from her and she pressed her cheek against the wall, so she could see him.

“I swear to God I don’t have anything to do with him. Fuck, I’ll tell you whatever you want about him and his plan if you don’t kill me.” (Y/N) sucked in a breath. “Please don’t kill me. I swear I stopped pulling heists after Halloween last year. I work a decent job. I keep my nose clean. I don’t get involved in that shit anymore. Please, God, don’t—”

“Will you stop talking for like ten seconds?” Red Hood griped, one hand leaving the grasp he had on her arms behind her back to feel around her middle.

“HEY!” she shouted, thrashing wildly. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

He pressed her harder to the wall. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Calm down.”

“I’ll calm down when you get your fucking hands out of my skirt your fucking pervert!” (Y/N) spat, leaning on one leg to kick at him with the other.

“All I want is what’s in your skirt,” he sighed and pressed one of his thighs against the one kicking him. “Christ,you’re a handful.”

“And you’re a fucking sicko!” she retorted indignantly. “Is this how you get your rocks off? Assaulting innocent women? You’re so fucking disgu—”

“Got it,” Red Hood declared, and yanked out the file she’d shoved in the side of her skirt. (Y/N) fell silent when he held it beside her head. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

She could tell he was smirking behind the red helmet and she scowled at him. “You’re fucked up, buddy.”

Shrugging, he flipped open the file and started reading. “Would’ve been easier if you hadn’t tried to run on me.”

“Well excuse me for thinking I was about to get murdered and having the initial instinct to haul ass.”

Red Hood chuckled at that, and despite how wrong the entire situation was, the low drawl made shivers go down her spine.

“Wanna tell me about your friend?” he coaxed and (Y/N) froze.

“He’s not my friend,” she suddenly protested. “I haven’t been around Alex since last year.”

“Really? You two seem fairly chummy.”

(Y/N) craned her neck to look at him. “We used to fuck when we worked together.”

“Mhm,” he hummed knowingly. “Lover’s spat then?”

Barking a laugh, she countered, “Like you wouldn’t believe.” She stared at him. “I got out when you started putting people down. Didn’t want to be a casualty.”

“That’ll do it,” he snickered. “So, you don’t know what Alex’s been up to since last year?”

“No, and I want it to stay that way, but he thinks that if he waves enough heists in my face, I’ll cave and run back to the money.” (Y/N) groaned and rested her head against the wall. “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, and I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with whatever that plan it. Honest to God.”

She gazed at him, feeling something akin to tears gathering in her vision, and pled, “Take the file. Hell, take all the money I’ve got in my purse if you want, just don’t kill me.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “Please, I’m begging you. I don’t wanna die now.”

Red Hood’s weight disappeared from her back and he murmured, “I’m not going to hurt you. I want the opposite in fact.” The honesty in his words made her body feel weak and her knees started to go out beneath her. “And there she goes.” He caught her before she fell.

Gently lowering her to the ground, he helped her sit against the wall. (Y/N) leaned her head back and let out a long sigh.

“Oh, thank God.”

He laughed. “Life flashing before your eyes?”

She gave a half-hearted smile. “You’ve got no idea.”

This time when he laughed, it was dark, and it made her stomach churn. “Actually, I do.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, then he knelt in front of her, handing her purse back to her.

“Here.”

(Y/N) took it with a nod and stared at him. “So, what happens now?”

He was quiet for a moment, then he waved the file. “I go stop your friends from digging around Batman’s home.”

“Good luck,” she replied, starting to her feet when he tutted.

“Ah-ah-ah.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “We’re not done yet.”

She grunted at him. “What do you want?”

“Information on your friends.”

(Y/N) felt her brows furrow. “Can’t you find that out yourself?”

Red Hood shrugged. “I could, but I’m always looking to make my job easier.” He observed her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills.

Waving it in front of her, he said, “You tell me what you used to do for them and what all they’ve got going on, and you can have this.”

(Y/N)’s jaw went tight as she stared at the roll. That could pay rent and bills for at least two months. She needed the money. Her eyes darted to the mask and she swiped for the roll, but he raised it out of her reach.

“Nope,” he ribbed. “Info first.”

“Ass,” she grumbled, but conceded with a sigh. “Fine. Have it your way.” (Y/N) clambered to her feet and dusted off her tacky skirt, watching as he did the same.

“Follow me to my apartment.” Before he could say a word, she thrust a finger into his chest. “And do it from the rooftops so people don’t see you.” Her face set in a glare. “I don’t need any unwanted guests trying to get in because they saw you following me.”

She started off when Red Hood grabbed her forearm, not harshly, but firm enough to make her stop and stare at him questioningly.

“What’s your name?”

She blinked, not expecting that. “It’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

He nodded. “And what did they call you when you worked as a thief?”

(Y/N) huffed. “Not everyone has an alias, Red Hood.”

Chuckling, he retorted, “Yeah, but someone as pretty as you no doubt had one.”

She felt her stomach flutter at his flirt and her cheeks warmed as she looked away and replied, “They used to call me, ‘The Lady in Lace’.”

“The Lady in Lace?” he repeated, then stood next to her and pulled out a grappling gun. “Have a matching outfit, Lady Lace?”

(Y/N) shoved him in the side. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I think I’d rather see,” Red Hood flirted and pressed the button, shooting off towards the roof of the building.

It was gonna be a long night.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #dc comics #dc imagine #dc imagines #batman arkham knight #arkham knight #arkhamverse

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middleinthenight21 · 4 years

Text

DamiRae Week 2020- Day 1

Costumes

His disguise is horrible, he knows that. Damian Wayne spends most of the night strolling among the guests carrying a glass of champagne and a grimace under the black band that covered his mouth.

He was glad that he chose a costume as little revealing as it is, it fits the uniform he used to wear in the league of the shadows, being a pair of pants, jacket and black hood, in conjunction with a band that only left his eyes on view; he was not interested in being recognized. His brothers would have complained about bringing a replica of a uniform and his father would not be happy with the association, however, he bought wings in a small costume store whose wings simulated bone, joined by a porous plastic that gave the impression of being cartilage. When the owner of the store offers him the wings, he thinks they are small, that a structure like this could never support the weight of an adult, but he says nothing.

He can be anonymous.

His father had dragged them to an event commemorating the Wayne companies anniversary, Damian thinks his father is anticipating that some Gotham villain would attack the tower, but he hasn't said anything and it's not as if Bruce Wayne was very communicative with the information he shares in the family. Sometimes he understands it, most of the time he doesn´t, because he hates walking blindfolded.

He had been taught since he was a child that preparation is a prerequisite for victory and that faith is a waste fools allow themselves. He definitely hates it.

He glances at his older brother, flirting with a red-haired woman, she's attractive in a revealing pastel dress and there's a white mask holding up a chin. He rolls his eyes when his hands come dangerously close.

He does not understand what women see in Richard Grayson, the man can be a complete idiot.

"Don't look so angry" Emiko Queen appears next to him. He is surprised that she managed to recognize him. "Tim Drake tagged you in his photo. "

Growls.

He had hoped to go unnoticed. He observed her out of the corner of his eye, the young woman was dressed in a shirt that read "I wore a costume" and some casual jeans, she looked disinterested as if she did not want to come and her statement on the shirt was a sign of rebellion.

"Are you here for your brother?"

She growls.

"Yes. He likes to attend these elegant parties, he left me no choice" Emiko reaches for a glass of champagne as a waiter passes by with a tray. "A toast to the fun? "

Damian looked at her.

A few months ago, they had been dating, nothing formal, since neither of them liked the idea of romantic relationships, everything was casual. He thought Emiko was great, someone who proved to be more than what was seen with the naked eye. They are both people who had a strict upbringing and gave themselves to protect the innocent, however, the similarities are just that and it did not mean that two people worked together.

They are still friends.

He bumps his glass with hers.

"My God, could you smile, even once?"

He rolled his eyes.

The night flows slowly, although Damian stays next to his friend, he does not get the fun and he does not feel entirely comfortable around all these wealthy people; The laughter echoed throughout the room and is as elegant as it is empty. He is used to formality, but if he is sincere expecting a villain to break in, then he would have something more interesting to do.

Emiko is not happy either, but she pretends and when she is with her brother a smile slips over her lips, the weight disappears from her shoulders and she moves lightly. Now, they dance around the dance floor and he thinks Oliver Queen's archer angel costume is too revealing, it leaves his torso visible through a maya and his feathered wings take up a lot of space.

Both siblings move lightly.

He looks around him, Tim and Stephanie are talking to their group of friends, Jason talks to Roy, his best friend and can see how malicious smiles are born on their faces. The two of them act like it´s their private club.

Cass is talking to her father.

Emiko ran to her side, a smile on her face and she seemed illuminated by a new aura. Rarely had he seen her so excited, she carries a camera that hangs in her hands and waves it at him, like a flag.

Damian frowns, he does not understand his emotion.

"We have to take a picture of ourselves!"

He was going to reply, but she quickly requested help from someone who was passing, it is a girl; She is disguised as a witch, her bluish black dress falls to the ground and her pointed cap covers her hair revealing short dark strands that caress her shoulders. A mask over her eyes, the patterns are like a black spider web and it has an elongated shape.

Damian nicknames her on his head as "Witch Girl."

"Please take a picture of us."

Witch girl opens her mouth to answer, but the camera was already in her hands and Emiko would not accept a denial, she stands next to him and gets close to him. He tenses up when he feels pressured by Emiko to take this photograph. He doesn't like to see himself in photos, he had grown up differently, although he knows everything he needs and more, he still finds it strange to use technology for entertainment.

"It is for my brother."

As if that clarifies something.

Emiko straightens up next to him, a smile slipping across her face and he seems more like a soldier than a casual civilian who wants to capture a moment. Damian doesn't know where to put his hands, so he laces them behind his back and squares his shoulders, lifts his chin and ignores the smell of champagne in his mouth. The murmur and the sound of the orchestra shouting in the room, along with the knock on his friend's foot.

He focuses his gaze on the girl who points the camera at them. The device falls from her hands a few centimeters and she murmurs:

"He looks sad."

She says it to him, he is sure of that. He wouldn't have heard a thing will all the loud sounds, but he learned to lip read a few years ago, a skill that he found useful especially when you have to spy undetected. He wants to tell the witch girl that it's not true, and he's fine, everything is very good in his life. There is nothing he wants, he can snap his fingers and have what he wants, he surrounds himself with the most powerful people in the world, he observes things many would only dream of and found a family. She does not know anything.

A smile glides across his lips, the muscles in his cheeks tighten, unaccustomed to smiling, and he can feel his eyes take on small lines of expression.

The camera snaps back into place. It is as if the witch girl knew that he was smiling, despite not seeing the smile she feels he exhibited, but she had not given him the reason and that makes him happy for some reason. The witch girl was not right.

He doesn't look sad.

He can feel her eyes piercing him behind the contact lens, he distinguishes a dark color, like a purple beta, he has never seen a tone like this and he remembers that his father spoke of an actress with violet eyes, but that she had already died.

Elizabeth Taylor is the only person in the world with violet eyes, he had said, but he was wrong.

Now they look like wise eyes, like a rare diamond. Damian cocks his head trying to make out the face behind the device, only to have a piece of information to brag about in front of his father.

The flash blinks and the photo is captured.

"They look great together." The witch girl approaches and places the camera in Emiko's hands with a small smile. She leaves with her head down without looking back, the cloak of her dress rushes in midair and for the first time she notices, it catches the light in small flashes, in shiny blue stones.

Emiko speaks, but Damian barely hears what she is saying, because he still wants to see her face.

He does not like to remain in doubt.

"Do you think I look sad to you?"

She gasps, looks at him as if a horn had grown "I don't understand what you want ... "

He was no longer with her.

She does not see him for the rest of the night, so she simply shrugs and takes the opportunity to take photos with her brother and her fiancée. She would enjoy the night with or without Damian.

***

Later, Emiko would wonder what his eyes see when she looks at the photograph in the gallery, she and Damian are standing behind that old painting next to a plant, smiling happily for the moment. However, the attitude of friend distracted he shows signs of a smile and observes a point as if it were very interesting, a topic to talk about for hours, it seems that he is treading on another planet.

Damian could smile?

She had never seen him roll his eyes.

What had he seen?

"Oh no," Dinah leans on the sofa, looking at the photograph. She realizes she had zoomed in on the photo framing Damian's face. "I know that look. "

"What look?" She asks, interested.

Dinah Lance sits down on the sofa seat and smiles "He's in love. I know that look because I see it every day. "

Damian in love? That's ridiculous. It is impossible, there is much doubt in that equation, since their relationship ended a long time ago and they split quite well. Besides, he had never had those eyes for her.

"From who? "

The blonde laughs "From your brother. "

And Oliver is an idiot now.

***

Extra.

Damian walked around the room. He ignores the callers, including his brothers who want him to meet their groups of friends. Dick calls him as he wants to introduce him to his new conquest, Jason probably wants to annoy him, Stephanie wants to show him something (He wasn't going to talk about Tim Drake, because he doesn't count) and Cass frowns when she sees him walking through the crowd aimlessly.

He is looking for someone with a pointed hat, it is impossible to have more than one people like that.

Finally, there is a figure nearby having a glass of champagne, he only sees her back, but he would recognize that costume anywhere. His feet stop on a small slip on the polished ceramic floor and his heart hammers anxiously in his chest. He would have his answers.

He gives her a better look.

The witch girl has a costume in bluish tones, it´s smooth and hugs her slim figure. Gloves of the same color reach her elbows, and there is a small bracelet around her wrist in gold tones. What stands out the most is the pointed hat with a brim that brings shadows to her face.

Other girls had chosen mind-blowing costumes, elaborate hairstyles, and elegant outfits that were made to attract attention, but this girl is not flashy or flamboyant, she is simple. Damian finds something puzzling in her aura of mystery, but he has never been someone who will leave the mysteries unsolved.

He gulps and walks to her side.

She pretends to be interested in the snack table. Her eyes sweep over the food and he can see how she struggles to decide if she is going to eat those canapes or the miniature cakes, finally she chooses the cakes.

She has a sweet tooth.

He looks askance at her. He notices new details about the witch girl. Like she has a small red crystal on her forehead and gold star-shaped earrings falling down the sides of her face.

She has a smooth profile, as if she had been sculpted by delicate hands: A rounded chin, an upturned nose and soft skin, perhaps it she too pale, she probably does not like the sun very much.

She reaches for a chocolate bar and bites it "Chocolate makes me feel better."

Damian gulps again. He is not sure why; he does not like it.

He wants to end it all at once.

"Why do I look sad?"

She opens her eyes, turns to look at him and is amazed. Now, they are face to face, even with the mask on, you can see her surprised expression and the witch girl has more violet eyes than he had seen, and now she looks embarrassed.

"Sorry." Her voice is soft with a scratchy note. It´s unusual "It was just a thought that crossed my mind. "

He raised an eyebrow.

"You said I looked sad." He crosses his arms. "Why? "

She looks like she's about to run away, but she does something more puzzling to him, squares her shoulders and takes a firm stance. She is proud.

"You weren't smiling."

That's why?

He had looked for someone in an entire room where there are more than two hundred guests, only to be answered in this way. He wants to hit his forehead criticizing himself, but not everything is so bad. The witch girl watches him with attentive eyes, waiting for a sharp response, but instead a smile of amusement appears on Damian's face.

He slides the band that covers half of his face. They look at each other face to face, she decides to slide up the mask and they smile, because both are aware that this is ridiculous.

"I'm Raven." She extends her hand and he reciprocate.

Her nickname as "Witch Girl" slips into her name. He observes her eyes fascinated by the color of violet so rare. Despite the abnormality of the tone and her fresh face, he can feel as if he had met her at another time. He is aware that he has never seen her before, he does not believe in good first impressions, but he had the feeling that there was nothing to fear.

"Damian."

Not everything is so bad. He has the impression that his night can improve, he did not wear this costume anymore.

´´With you I feel alright

It´s been a long night´´

(THANK YOU @ravenfan1242 ❤❤ )

#damirae week 2020 #damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #raven x damian

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch- Part 22

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month

Hating LIla is apparently a family trait

First< Previous > Next

---------------------------

“Uh I hate this,” Chloe picks at her uniform like it's a disgusting growth.

“I think you look as nice as you always do,” Marion says cheerfully, turning around on his seat to look back at her and Kagami.

“Marion that is by far the worst you have ever insulted me,”

“It was a complement-” Marion doges her whack.

“Marinette! Hit your brother for me,” Chloe demands, standing up to try and reach him.

“It’s more gratifying if you do it yourself, trust me,” Marinette flicks through her phone, not bothering to look up, “I can pin your uniform to look more flattering if you like,”

“Nette you are the best!” Chloe hugs her from behind, awkward to be sure with the seat and all, yep that's the only reason, not Kagami's death glare that can be felt through the seat.

“Oh Marinette you can also pin mine,” Lila asks, as sweetly as acid, “Or weren't you going to offer the rest of the class?”

“No actually Lila she wasn't,” Marion sneers, ignoring Marinette trying to pull him back into the seat, “As I’ve made it quite clear none of you are our friends, so she isn’t obligated to do anything for you,”

“That’s so mean,” Lila sniffles, everyone is too busy feeling guilty to comfort her.

“Weren't you friends with MDC Lila?” Marion asks as sweetly as acid, “Why not try asking them?"

With that Marion turns back to his seat and starts scrolling through his phone, ignoring Lila's attempts at guilting. He gets a notification from Marinette.

I can speak for myself

U can nicely tell them no- I can tell them to fck off

That wasn't very nice

Im done with nice

Whats wrong?

Marion looks up seeing Marinette looking over him concerned, he sighs and texts back.

Nervous

Dont worry Bruce hasn't told them yet

Its going to be awkward

We’ll get through it- Pound it?

Marion looks back up, Marinette is smiling at him holding out her hand.

“Pound it,”

They pull up to the school, the grandiose of Wayne academy is nothing to sneeze at. Brick buildings, iron work, Marion has to force Marinette to put her sketchbook away. They are escorted around the campus by a student. They’ll be split up and put into a range of different classes to make the best out of their week there.

“3 o’clock,” Marinette bumps into him, Marion lets his gaze slide over, spotting Damian.

“Wasn't Lila saying on the way over here that she was great friends with him?”

“Mari don't,” Marinette hisses, tugging at his sleeve, “It’s weird enough without pulling him in to our grudge match,”

“Nothing bonds siblings more than a mutual hatred of Lila, exhibit A,” He points back and forth between them, “I’m going to do it,”

“Don't you dare-”

“Hey Damian!” Marion shouts, waving his hand for the entire hallway to turn and stare.

Damian turns around with a scowl, hardly lessening when he spots them.

“Marion, just what do you think you’re doing,” Kagami scolds, as Damian stalks over.

“Lila,” Marion smirks back, looking over to the girl who pales at an actual Wayne walking over, apparently she had actually decided to look up what they look like.

“Oh this is going to be good,” Chloe steps back, content to watch the show.

“Hey Dami,” Marion goes to sling an arm around his shoulder.

“Don’t call me Dami,” Damian sidesteps his attempt, preferring to stand closer to Marinette.

“How’s Cat-fred?” Marion smiles, getting Damian’s scowl to lessen slightly, so he smiles brighter.

“He’s doing well,”

“Good good…” Marion shuffles, no longer able to look directly at him, “How’s the family?”

Marinette gives him a sideways look that clearly says ‘you did this to yourself’.

“Why are you asking?” Damian narrows his eyes, and Marion knows he fucked up.

Nette help please!

“I wanted to know when I can come over next for a rematch,” Marinette gracefully lets him off the hook.

“Evidently sparring at the manor is at risk of interruption,” Damian notes, deep in thought, “We should plan an alternative meeting space,”

“That sounds great,” Marinette smiles, catching Damian in between their grins.

Damian just nods and walks away, Marion smiles and waves.

“You’re an idiot,” Marinette punches him in the shoulder, getting him to lower his arm.

“We’ve established that, thanks,” Marion rubs his shoulder with a pout, “However look over there,”

Lila having an aneurysm, surrounded by the class berating her with questions.

“Worth it,” Marion grins, going for a subtle fist bump.

“Agreed,” Marinette returns the gesture.

“Lila why didn’t you say hi?”

“Why didn’t he say hi?”

“He must not have seen me,” Lila’s lip quivers in a practiced motion, “Marinette was standing in front of me,”

“Or were you hiding behind Marinette?” Marion calls over, actually voluntarily walking towards the beast.

“What?! Of course I wasn't!” Lila shouts, her glare sending him a clear warning, one he was fully prepared to ignore.

“Then why didn’t you just move?” Marion asks oh so innocently.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Lila sounds shy but her face screams murder, as people hang around to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Then you were doing it to be polite and complaining about Marinette is quite rude,” Marion has to hold back a smirk as he hears an ‘oh snap’ from his audience.

“I- you!-”

“That’s nice Lila,” Marinette interrupts, walking away like the badass she is, “How about we get to class,”

Marion goes to class, having the fortune to be lumped in with Lila. And yes he does mean fortune because while Lila is trying to brag and get the students under her thumb they are happily ignoring her, focusing instead on Marion’s tips for learning French. When Lila switches tactics saying she can speak Italian Marion switches over to fluent Italian, something he had learned from his Nona. He then breaks out his Mandarin, daring Lila to try and fake knowing a language.

Lila goes quite, just kidding you know that's not true. She starts to pull students aside whispering to them. Marion isn't sure if she is intentionally loud enough that he can hear her or if it’s just his enhanced hearing.

“He’s a bully, I know he’s just trying to act nice to get something out of you,” Lila warns a student who looks disgruntled to have basically been pulled into the corner away from the group.

“He’s a Wayne?” Ah so he’s heard the not-so rumour, “What could I possibly have that he doesn't?”

“He’s not a Wayne!” Lila snaps, before regaining her composure, “I actually know the Waynes,”

“... because they’re in your class?”

“No!” She stops her foot, “They made up that rumour! I know because I’m personal friends with all the Waynes,”

“Alright show a picture,” The guy shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets, Marion reminds himself to give them the award of ‘you’re smarter than everyone in my class, it's not much but it’s something!’.

“ What? ” Lila seethes, looking ready to tear his eyeballs out to have an excuse not to show him.

“All I’m saying is I’ve seen multiple pictures of them with the Waynes plus, I heard that they actually talked to Damian Wayne this morning!” He actually looks in awe at this fact.

“I would hardly call that a conversation,” Lila crosses her arms, looking to the side like a child.

“No you don't understand!” He employers making a wild hand gesture as if trying to show how amazing it is, “He’s the ice prince, if someone else calls his name or even tried to talk to him he would just ignore them, but he actually walked over and talked to them,”

“He saw me-”

“Look I don’t really care, this argument isn't worth having,” The guy puts up placating hands, the gesture having the exact opposite effect on Lila, “Marion seems cool, Wayne or not, so yeah,”

Marion tries not to smile as one by one Lila is shot down. Her anger rising so high Marion is sure she would have been akumatized three times over by now.

“Hey what's with Lila, she seems to have it out for you?” The first guy to talk to her whispers, turns out his name is James and was very confused when Marion gifted him a small paper trophy.

“Oh she does,” Marion shrugs, filling out the worksheet idly.

“Ok… why?” James presses, the small paper trophy sitting on his desk.

“Hmmm…” Marion leans back, tipping his seat, “It’s a paradox,”

“What is?”

“If I tell you the truth, you’ll probably think I’m lying and her accusations will seem more believable,” Marion reasons, looking up at the ceiling, “If I fake ignorance, you’ll probably just take her word for it, seems like a trap,”

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” James shakes his head, and Marion cracks a grin.

“Sorry, just happy to have some new friends,” His smile lessens, becoming melancholy, “It’s been awhile,”

“What? But you’re so,” James makes another one of his wild hand gestures, “ Nice ,”

Marion just shrugs, but some people notice how he quickly glances over at Lila talking with someone else. Any further questions are cut off by the bell.

“Well, seems that's our cue to leave, now tell me are American school lunches really as bad as I’m led to believe?”

“You poor little french boy,” James shake his head, “You have no idea the horrors you will face,”

“This is so much worse than I thought it would be,” Marion looks down at his tray in disgust, “This is a private school?”

“I told you so,” James shrugs, walking through the cafeteria to find a seat.

“Hold up a sec,” Marion says, spotting Damian, not talking but rather trying to ignore someone talking to him, “Dami!”

“Don’t call me Dami,” Damian pushes Marion off him this time, the person who was talking to him looks shocked that his arms aren’t broken.

He puts his tray on the table and grabs Damian's shoulders.

“I have an urgent problem,”

“Cheng-Dupain, from what I know of you that is a massive exaggeration,” Damian brushes him off again and Marion’s scared the other kid is having a heart attack, “Now stop bothering me, it can wait for later,”

“I didn’t take any pictures of Cat-fred!” Marion cries, flopping onto Damian, who doesn't bother pushing him off a third time.

“... Understandable,” Damian snatches Marion’s phone, letting Marion input the code over his shoulder, “This is an oversight on your part,”

“So you’ll send some to me?” Marion grins, using Damian’s head as an armrest as he watches him enter his number.

“Yes,” Damian passes Marion’s phone back and Marion grabs his food.

“Great, see you later!” Marion stands up, ruffling Damian's hair before leaving.

“What was that!?” He hears the other person shout as he walks away.

“What was that?!” James yells, and whoops the entire cafeteria is staring between him and Damian.

“Do you ever learn from your mistakes?” Marinette asks, materialising beside him.

“No?” Marion scoffs, putting his and on his hip, “Why would I?”

“Are you actually siblings?” James still looks in shock but at least he isn’t gaping and gasping for air anymore.

“Yes?” Of course they were siblings, they are twins? Is that not clear?

“God-fucken dammit Mari!” Marinette hisses, “That’s not what they meant!”

“Oh,” Marion says softly, totally not jumping as Damian materialises next to him.

“Cheng-Dupain, it was this absentminded nature that caused this rumour to get out of hand in the first place,”

“Yeah… you are going to have to be way more specific,” Marion looks around the whole cafeteria is still staring at them, trading whispers.

“No we are not related, that is a baseless rumour,” Damian glares at James, making him recoil.

“Right… baseless,” Marion mumbles, getting kicked in the shin by Marinette.

“Adopted then?” James foolishly asks.

“ No ,” and yep now James looks afraid for his life.

“Haha, you know you don’t have to seem so offended by that?” Marion slings his arm around Damian’s shoulder, silently rejoicing that he only gets a withered glare this time.

“Like I said,” Lila’s voice carries over the still quite cafeteria, “The Waynes were telling me how they hate that rumour, the meer idea they are connected to the twins is-”

“ Excuse me ,” Damian slams his hand down on the table, right next to Lila making her jump out of her skin, “But who are you, and why do you think you know anything about my family and what we think,”

“I just-”

“You presume you’re of enough importance to understand my feelings towards the matter?” Damian stands tall and looks down his nose at her, “You aren’t,”

“Lila,” Alya whispers to her as Damian walks away, “I think you should just let them sort it out, it’s a family matter,”

“Who is that?” Damian demands when he gets back to them, “And how do I destroy her?”

“Don’t worry about it Damian, she's just doing it to get attention,” Marinette explains calmly.

“Lila Rossi,” Marion has other plans, “She’s a Liar, provide proof she doesn't know your family or anyone for that matter and she will be destroyed,”

Damian gives a curt nod and walks away, back to his friend who is still gaping like the rest of the room.

“ Mari ,” Marinette smacks him.

“I merely shared my wisdom,” Marion stroke his invisible beard, “What he chooses to do with it is up to him,”

“Ugh, that was a long day,” Plagg groans, curling up in the middle of his pillow.

“Plagg you slept in my bag the whole time,” Marion flops onto his bed, and it wasn't over they had to go on patrol soon.

“Which is far more disruptive than a bed,” Plagg complains, letting Marion curl up next to him, “Not comfortable at all,”

“Speaking of not being comfortable…” Marinette trails off, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Our brother insisting we aren’t related?” Marion curls around to look over at her.

“Very strange feeling,” Marinette nods, absentmindedly pulling her feet onto the bed.

“He yelled at Lila,” Marion smiles up at the ceiling.

“Does that make him an honorary Dupain-slash-Cheng?” Marinette smiles over at him.

“Yeah…” Marion’s grin drops, “... Or Dupain/Cheng/Wayne,”

“... You want to tell them?” Marinette asks in her horrible tone that reminds him of being back in Paris and trying to stifle emotions.

“I mean, yeah,” He sits up, crossing his legs, “They’re family right? I want to know them, do you?”

“He seemed upset when they called us siblings,” Marinette turns to face him, the Kwamis watching their little meeting from the outside.

“He seemed more upset with Lila, said he was insulted by it,” Marion reasons, he feels like they’re back in Paris dressed as Ladybug and Chat Noir having three in the morning conversations on rooftops.

“It’s Lila, anything she says can piss someone off,” Marinette sighs, flopping back on the bed, destroying the illusion, “Tikki what do you think?”

“This is a decision you have to make on your own Marinette,” Tikki advises sagely.

“Tiiikkkiiiiii,” Marinette whines like a three year old

“Alright, I never had a family but I have the other Kwamis,” Tikki concedes, explaining to the twins giving her all their attention, “I am separated from Nooro and Dussu, and if family feels like them I do not want you to be separated,”

“What if they get mad?” Marinette asks, fidgeting.

“Then you’ll find a way to work through it,” Tikki smiles at them, “You’re Ladybug and Chat Noir, there isn’t anything you can’t do,”

“Just do it kid!” Plagg shouts, giving up on pretending to nap, “If it turns out bad at least you know!”

“Plagg!”

“What is it Sugar Cube?” Plagg asks sweetly, getting chased out the room moments later.

“So, we doing this?” Marion asks, after all their Kwamis have left.

“I guess so,” Marinette shugs, bringing out her phone, Marion holds her hand for comfort as they wait for the phone to ring.

“Hello?” Bruce picks up on the third ring.

“Hey Bruce,” Marion says, sounding strained even to himself.

“Marinette, Marion,” Bruce answers, pleasantly surprised, “Is everything alright?”

“How do you feel about telling everyone else?” Marion cuts straight to the chase, he can’t be bothered to run.

“... are you sure?” Marion can feel Marinette tension grow at the question, “I want to but they’ll all be surprised, it might ruin your trip,”

“We got sent to the hospital the first week being here,” Marion reasons, he should technically still be on bed rest.

“... That's true,”

“So?” He prompts after a too long pause.

“When do you want to tell them?”

“Tomorrow,” Marinette speaks up for the first time.

Well I guess that's that

-----------------------------

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd

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