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1 | in which Tim Drake tries to propose to the PA
Part 1 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
Bruce tried not to flinch as he sat down on his swiveling chair. He had twisted his ankle from pursuing Penguin's goons the previous night but had to cover it up for work. Sure, he was used to hiding injuries and slipping into his CEO persona, but that didn't mean his muscles weren't sore and beat-up.
Just in time, his PA entered the office, carrying a stack of folders and a hot mug of coffee. "Here are the partnership offers I filtered from the initial pile." She placed the papers atop his desk. "I've also noticed that there is a defect in the new prototype of the research department that they are yet to attend to."
Bruce frowned. "But isn't the demo and meeting for it scheduled today?"
"Yes, that's why I've convinced the head supervisor to push it back to next week after they deal with the defect," Marinette reported. "I've also postponed the investors meeting to tomorrow since there was a delay in the materials."
She lowered her voice as if relaying a secret. "I noticed you have difficulty walking today, Mr. Wayne. With your modified schedule, all your work can be done here at your desk. If there's other legwork to do, I'll take care of it."
Somehow, in perfect timing, Marinette always managed to accommodate the times when he was injured. Bruce didn't know if he was getting bad at hiding it because of his old age or if the girl's intuition was just crazy sharp. Maybe it was both. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Marinette. I appreciate it."
She opened up the first folder in front of him and transferred the mug to an electric warmer. "Another skiing accident?"
"Not as bad this time. Just a twisted ankle."
Next, she lowered the blinds just to allow just a peek of the sunlight and prepared a snack tray on a circular table beside his desk. Bruce never communicated the particulars about his preferences and he wasn't actually picky about his office space (unlike his son-slash-co-CEO). But this PA of his, just somehow knows. Like Alfred-levels of expertise. It creeped him out a little if he were to be honest.
She clasped her hands behind her back. "Anything else, Mr. Wayne?"
"None at the moment, thank you."
She raised an eyebrow.
. . . Which drew out a sigh from him. "Fine. Can you maybe help limit Tim's caffeine intake today? He had too many cups last night and he didn't listen when I told him to take the time off today."
"Of course, I'll do that right away." She nodded in satisfaction.
When she left, Bruce pulled up a tab on his computer to search for the legal documents, wondering if there was etiquette about an employer legally adopting their employee.
***
Marinette entered the office of Tim Drake after receiving a greeting from Tam at her desk beside the door. The young PA kept her hands behind her back as she approached the boy who was glued to his computer screen. Upon closer look, she could see the heaviness under his eyes, accentuated by the dark circles on his pale skin.
"I looked into your request of acquiring a commission piece from M.D.C.," Marinette told him.
There was only a slight shift in his exhausted expression—a downturn of the mouth—before his scratchy voice replied. "I thought they don't accept commissions anymore."
"Yes, but I re-visited our correspondence and apparently they still make pieces for selected clients." She took a deep breath. "And I got you an in."
The clicking of the mouse suddenly paused, followed by the widening of Tim's red-rimmed eyes. He practically crawled out of his seat to kneel before Marinette to take her hand in his. "Please marry me."
Marinette gently pulled away. "Sorry, Mr. Drake, my contract with Mr. Wayne prohibits me from marrying or getting into a relationship with any of his children."
"Why?!" Tim cried out.
"Perhaps he precisely predicted this kind of situation." She smiled apologetically. "And by my guess, I think he wants to adopt me first and not marry into the Wayne family."
Not that she actually wanted to be the newest addition to her boss' family.
With a pout, Tim retreated back to his chair while muttering about Bruce's adoption addiction. But in a second, he brightened up once more as he seemingly remembered the new opportunity he gained with M.D.C. "I have to compile my requests for the clothes!" He furiously tapped at his keyboard.
Marinette's heart went out for Tam. It looked like Tim wasn't getting proper work done that day again.
"I will forward the list to M.D.C. as soon as it's ready," she assured.
And while the co-CEO was immersed in researching designs in his half-conscious state, Marinette brought out the mug from behind her back and exchanged the coffee on his desk with decaf: a custom brew which was guaranteed to help him sleep for the afternoon.
In triumph, she exchanged thumbs-ups with Tam through the glass window of the office.
***
Marinette kept a watchful eye on Bruce's office to keep anyone from entering and disturbing the boss. But when she peeked into the room to deliver more files to him, she saw Bruce facing the open window and talking softly with Superman himself, who was at the other side of the glass.
Fortunately, neither of them seemed to notice her. She closed the door slowly and leaned her back against it, wondering if she should be guarding the door with her life. At the strike of bad luck, one of the company executives was heading straight towards the direction of the office.
He shot her a look as she blocked the way. Head to toe. "Mr. White," she greeted slowly.
"I have some papers Mr. Wayne must sign urgently." He narrowed his eyes.
"Sorry." She forced out a smile. "Mr. Wayne is a little . . . preoccupied at the moment. Why don't I take those papers off your hands and I'll have him sign them later?"
The executive clutched the stack tightly as if it were some precious treasure. "No, I need to have them signed now. If you can let me in, I'm sure Mr. Wayne won't mind a short interruption."
He stepped to the side but she moved in his way just as swiftly. Marinette sighed inwardly. This is beyond my paycheck. And judging by how White went here on his own, it must be some fund-farming project proposal Mr. Wayne would never agree to.
"Get out of my way!" He cried out. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I apologize, but Mr. Wayne is meeting an important guest. Under no circumstances must he be disturbed," she told him firmly. "I'm certain the papers can wait. He's not going anywhere."
"Listen here," Mr. White spat out. "I have more authority over you. You will do as I say right now!"
"Mr. White—"
"I will tell Mr. Wayne how incompetent you are! Rude to company executives! How dare you speak to me like this?!" Marinette stared with disinterest as his neck turned red and his forehead threatened to pop a vessel.
"What is going on here?"
Marinette felt the door open behind her to reveal Bruce, looking at White with clear exasperation. What she didn't expect was a bespectacled man emerging from behind her boss clad in business clothes.
"Mr. Wayne!" The executive squeaked. "I need you to sign these—"
"Did you not hear my PA?" Bruce punished him with a cold look. "I was receiving a guest. And you had the nerve to cause a commotion right outside my office."
"But—"
"Leave. Now."
Mr. White scurried away, tail between his legs, as other passing employees whispered to each other. Marinette stepped aside to give way to the two men.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Thank you for your time, Clark. I'll get back to you soon."
Superman—Clark—responded with a nod and a gentle smile before excusing himself out of the area. Marinette watched his back whilst he left. If anyone looked more attentively, they'd notice that the button-up and slacks Clark was wearing was too tight for his size, pointing to the fact that they were Bruce's and not his.
"Marinette, if you can keep quiet about . . ." Bruce trailed off, face twisting as he tried to pick his words carefully. She, of course, would know that no guest had entered his office despite Clark Kent exiting it only a few moments ago.
"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. I won't tell anyone about your affair with Mr. Kent," she promised before walking back to her desk.
"Thank you . . . Wait, my what?"
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4 | in which a boy becomes jealous of his niece
Part 4 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
When Bruce heard that Diana and Clark were both in the city for work, he decided to kill two birds with one stone and invite them for lunch and a meeting in his office. He even had Tim in attendance, so he could give his opinions for the League-related discussions. They were deep into intergalactic affairs when a knock rapped on the door.
"Mr. Wayne?" Marinette called out from outside.
Bruce wondered why she was knocking, since she knew he had guests over. Marinette never disturbed him if he had guests. Is there an emergency?
Tim was quick on his feet as he opened the door for her. Marinette's head peeked out, looking a little shy. "Sorry to interrupt, but I've got something to show you urgently."
Bruce gave an apologetic smile. "Can it wait until later—"
Tim cut in, "It's a casual meeting, B, let the girl in."
With Clark and Diana's gazes on him, he conceded and motioned for Tim to let his assistant in. The girl carried her tablet inside, setting it up on the table in front of them. "There was an intruder last night in your office. I managed to extract the audio feed and sync it up with the video footage."
The glint in his son's eye already gave Bruce a foreboding feeling. Tim gasped dramatically. "An intruder? How scary!"
"I'd like to show you so you can confirm his words." Marinette pursed her lips. "Batman visited last night."
"Batman?" Clark's gaze wandered off towards Bruce.
The assistant nodded solemnly and pressed a key to play the video. "He came in late at night to 'retrieve something' but I did suspect he was stealing."
Like the nosey coworkers they were, the two League members immediately slid towards either side of Bruce to get a glimpse of the screen. Bruce's encounter with the knife-wielding Marinette was caught clear as day on the camera—he started to feel heat rush to his cheeks.
Tim attempted (and failed) to mask his laughter with a cough while Diana didn't hold back at all, letting out a chuckle as they watched.
"I think that's enough of—" Bruce stretched his arm to pause the video but Clark moving to hold back his wrist was faster.
"No, it's important to see the whole thing, Bruce," his sly friend told him, "This is a security breach."
"He's right, Mr. Wayne." Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "He slipped in so easily; our security system must be faulty if he was able to go inside without triggering alarms."
Bruce bit on his tongue and wished he could say something. But his assistant's blue eyes shone with so much innocent concern and worry that he couldn't stay firm. He leaned back and let the video finish, with amusement clear on Clark and Diana's faces and Tim wheezing behind him.
He cleared his throat. "Thank you for bringing this up, Marinette, but Batman is right. We had a prior agreement so he's allowed in the office."
"But why associate with Batman at all?" She tilted her head. "Is he one of your lovers?"
Bruce was pretty sure Tim just choked on air.
"We both save the city, in our own ways that is." Bruce internally cringed at his explanation. "I think we both have the same goals and I'm happy to help him if it means Gotham is safe."
"No offense, but he's a recluse. You can do better, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce glanced at his two fellow founding members. "I'm sure he's got some friends of his own."
"I don't know." Clark pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I've talked to Superman a few times and according to him, the Bat is a weirdo."
Marinette's eyes widened. "Weird how? Oh, that reminds me . . ." She pulled out something from her pocket: the same Batarang Bruce had thrown at her. "He pinned my sleeve to the wall! It's going to take forever to mend."
Bruce looked away guiltily.
Clark shook his head in faux disappointment. "That's awful. Superman says he's always like that—cold like a stone wall, very grumpy, and protective over his secret identity."
"It seems that Batman was very much caught off by your presence, Marinette," Diana added.
Tim was already silent-laughing by Bruce's desk, knocking his fist on top of it while holding his middle.
"Sorry, Marinette, we have other things to discuss here." Bruce forced out a smile again. "I'll tell Batman not to come unannounced again. Thanks for telling me right away. If you'd like, I can pay for your blazer to get fixed."
Marinette pocketed the Batarang and picked up her tablet. "Sure, but to be honest, I'd rather have a personal apology."
"I agree, Bruce, he should show some remorse." Clark nonchalantly sipped from his drink.
"I'll—I'll make sure he does that."
***
Bruce was sitting in his office's lounge with stacks of binders and envelopes scattered all over the table. Sat across him was Marinette, who was helping him organize the upcoming hectic schedule for the company. He pointed to an empty spot on the paper calendar. "What if we put the grand opening on the sixth? That would give us enough time to prepare."
Marinette spoke slowly. "Why on the sixth?"
"It's free, isn't it?"
She decided to continue to stare at him wordlessly, waiting for something to strike him. He only stared back dumbfoundedly at first but after a few beats, Marinette saw the exact moment the realization dawned on him.
Cue the panicked Bruce Wayne.
Marinette went back to scribbling on her notebook. "How can you forget the birthday of your only grandchild, Mr. Wayne?"
"It slipped my mind." Bruce visibly gulped. "I haven't prepared a gift yet."
"It's a week away."
"Yes . . . yes I'm aware."
She gave her subtle but pointed look. She should've predicted this, in all honesty—Bruce seemed to be extremely swamped both inside and outside work the past few days. But she expected him to have the date marked on his personal calendar at least.
"If I start on the handmade gift tonight, there should be enough time for me to finish by the sixth," she told him.
He pursed his lips, "No, I can't possibly ask that from you. It wouldn't be a gift from me if it's you making it."
"Do you have other ideas then?"
Bruce came up with a blank. He shook his head, clearly in distress.
"Then allow me to make it, Mr. Wayne," she insisted as she clicked her pen. "If you're the one to pick the design I'm sure she will love it."
He breathed out, practically slumping on the sofa. "Thank you, Marinette, you're a lifesaver."
"That's not the magic word."
"I'll pay double your—no I'll pay triple your salary. That should cover the materials cost and work for it."
Marinette nodded in satisfaction. Triple was already a lot more than her usual commission prices. She looked over the scheduled events and tried to work out another suitable schedule. "I'll have the design options ready by tomorrow—I'm thinking of a thick cardigan—so please get her measurements from Mr. Pennyworth."
***
Marinette was running in heels. Sweat clung to the nape of her neck as she caught her breath in front of the manor gates. The rude taxi driver had dropped her off a good distance away from her destination, making her horribly late for the party when she had an important package to deliver.
She stared down at the gift bag with a neat little bow hanging from her wrist. Bruce had told her that he was going to be late to the birthday party and tasked her to get the gift there first . . . without much excuse for his tardiness. And when there was a flimsy excuse, it only meant that he was attending to something Batman-related.
After fixing her appearance and checking her reflection through her phone, she ventured into the back garden where the Wayne family had set up a modest party: a few family friends had been invited, standing around the long banquet table with finger foods and there were some picnic blankets laid around. The weather seemed to be in good favor just for Mar'i Grayson, who squealed and jumped into Marinette's arms the moment she saw her.
"Marinette!" The girl beamed. "You're here!"
Well . . . Marinette wasn't invited in the first place. She was there thanks to Bruce. Behind Mar'i, she saw Dick whispering to Kor'i with a frown, probably voicing out his disappointment that Bruce wasn't there yet.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiled back.
Mar'i looked around. "Where's grandpa?"
"Uhh, your grandpa's running a little late today but he had me deliver this!" Marinette held up the bag, drawing out a look of wonder from the child. "Happy birthday, Princess."
The girl was already bouncing on her heels. "What's in it? What's in it?"
"Why don't you open it to find out?" A new voice said.
Marinette hoped no one heard her sigh of relief. Bruce had just appeared, but his tousled hair and wrinkled clothes indicated that he dressed himself in a rush.
"Grandpaaaaa!" Mar'i ran to her grandfather and he easily lifted her up.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart. I'm sorry I'm late." Bruce tapped the tip of her nose.
The girl giggled. "It's okay, there's still cake for you!"
"Why don't you open up your gift?"
Marinette moved aside and watched with anticipation as Mar'i peeked into the bag. She couldn't help the smile tugging on her lips when she saw green eyes lighting up in delight. Mar'i held out the soft pink cardigan adorned with patterns of a figure resembling Silkie, along with a little crocheted bag in the shape of a star.
Even though Bruce nearly forgot the date, he picked out a fitting design.
"I love it!" Mar'i gasped, immediately slipping the cardigan on. "Thank you, grandpa!"
With her job done, Marinette retreated towards the refreshments table where, to her surprise, Damian offered her a glass of water. His gaze seemed to be trained on the gift, which Mar'i was proudly showing off to the other guests.
"Is that your handiwork?" He asked.
"Do you want one too?" Marinette teased after she downed the whole glass. "I'll make one for you on your birthday if Mr. Wayne forgets yours too."
He snorted. "I didn't say that. And Father will not forget my birthday."
"You sure about that?"
"You will be reminding him either way anyway." Damian sipped on his own drink. "You didn't have to make the gift for the sake of covering up Father's mistake."
"He paid me well, so it's fine."
"Still, he should've been the one who made the effort."
"He's right, Marinette, you didn't have to." Dick came up to them, handing a slice of cake to Marinette. "Old man's tendency to forget isn't new."
Marinette gave a grateful smile as she took a bite of the pink-and-purple frosted cake. "It's alright really. I wouldn't have offered to help but I didn't want Mar'i to celebrate without a gift from Mr. Wayne."
"It must've been a lot of trouble." Dick briefly looked at the wrist brace around her hand.
"Ah, this isn't from making the cardigan. Don't worry," she lied.
"I heard he only asked for the cardigan," said Dick. "What about the bag?"
Marinette's gaze traveled towards Mar'i again. The girl was stuffing her new bag with candies from Roy as her mother fixed her hair. "Just an accessory to match the cardigan. Consider it a gift from me."
"Thank you, Marinette." Dick nodded, looking at his daughter with a soft expression. "And I'm sorry for all the trouble on behalf of Bruce."
When Dick left (presumably to pull Bruce to the side and talk to him), Marinette noticed the side-eyes Damian was giving her. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"You strained your hand making the cardigan didn't you?" he asked.
She put a finger up to her lips. "Let's keep that a secret between us."
#maribat fanfic#dc x mlb#mlb x dc#maribat#maribat fic#maribat marinette dupain cheng#NMWYCAM#PA!Marinette
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2 | in which Damian Wayne wakes up to an odd breakfast
Part 2 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
Saturday. Bruce's only schedule for the day? An interview.
But inside the Wayne manor.
It wasn't Marinette's first visit to the house, but she still couldn't get used to how humongous it was. She readjusted the box in her hands and the coat hanging from her arm as Bruce himself welcomed her at the front door and guided her to the drawing room.
A drawing room that indeed looked expensive but was extremely messy at the moment.
"Where's Alfred?" she asked.
"He's out for groceries and a few other errands," replied Bruce, which explained the state of the room. Which also explained the Batarangs and a utility belt lying out in the open which Bruce didn't seem to notice.
Marinette inwardly sighed one of her many sighs for the day. Her boss was lucky she came over early in the morning on a weekend. She wondered how his identity hadn't been discovered by the public yet. She took the chance to give Bruce a once-over to examine his outfit: polished shoes, blue blazer, blue tie, hair gelled to perfection.
"Is it too formal?" he asked hesitantly.
"They will only take one photograph of you but you have to at least leave the impression that you're not 'all work, no play' in your own house." She crossed her arms. "May I suggest your waffle-knit sweater with a collared dress shirt underneath and light-colored pants?"
What is that expression . . . is Bruce actually pouting?! "Yes, okay. I'll change now."
Just as he was about to turn around and retreat upstairs, Marinette stopped him. "Mr. Wayne, may I tidy up this space for our guests?"
He appeared a shade paler, pinned under her stern gaze. "Yes, of course. Thank you Marinette."
And off he scurried to his bedroom.
With his permission, the PA got to work. Ms. Sinclair and her assistant will be here at eight-thirty. We have around fifteen minutes to prepare. She picked up the papers scattered on top of and underneath the coffee table, stored away the blankets draped on the chairs, and safely hid the Batarangs and other identity-incriminating objects behind some knick knacks on the shelves. Armed with a duster and a lint roller, she moved around to clear the cushions of fur and get rid of the dirt between spaces. Finally, she pulled the curtains open to give a lively view of the courtyard (and to introduce some much-needed sunlight into the area).
When Bruce returned downstairs wearing the outfit from her recommendation, he blinked and looked around as if it was his first time seeing the room. "This looks much better," he hummed in approval.
Marinette topped it off by placing a flower centerpiece on the coffee table. "Anything else you need me to do, Mr. Wayne? Should I sit in during the interview?"
"No thank you, I have another request for you." Bruce's eyes flickered towards the kitchen. "You see, some of my children might already be awake at this time and Alfred's not around to take care of breakfast."
". . . I don't believe this fits my job description."
"I'll add to your pay this month."
"I'll get started on breakfast right away, sir. Any preferences?"
"Anything will do."
Marinette nodded and immediately put away all the cleaning equipment as the doorbell rang. Bruce told her that he would be the one to greet Ms. Sinclair, so she headed for the kitchen instead.
***
Upon entering the new room, Marinette noticed that there was already an occupant inside. A short-haired woman sat on top of a barstool on the kitchen island, cradling a mug. Marinette halted in her tracks, bowing slightly.
"Hello. Miss . . . Cassandra." She smiled softly. "I'm Marinette, Mr. Wayne's assistant. I don't believe we've met before. Your father's currently entertaining a Gazette reporter at the moment and asked me to cook breakfast."
Cassandra, or Cass as Bruce would often refer to her, tilted her head. "Nice to meet you."
Marinette unhooked an apron near the refrigerator. "Would you like me to make you another cup of tea?"
Cass' eyebrows raised, perhaps surprised at how perceptive she was. She gazed down at her mug, thinking, and met Marinette's eyes again. "Sure."
With a one-month raise in mind, Marinette prepared the teapot and collected the ingredients. Thanks for not telling me which children are home, she frowned as she went over the contents of the pantry. Very helpful, Mr. Wayne. She settled on playing it safe: simple but numerous choices.
"Have you got any preferences for breakfast, Miss Cassandra?" She asked as she tipped the teapot over Cass' mug. Cass merely shook her head 'no'.
"Very well."
Marinette had just preheated the pans when footsteps sounded. In rushed another Wayne kid, slinging a bag over his shoulder.
"Good morning, Mr. Thomas," she chirped. "Would you like coffee, tea, or juice?"
Duke looked like he was caught off guard seeing her there. He looked back and forth between her and Cass, eyes filled with confusion. His sister only motioned for him to reply to Marinette.
"Uuh, coffee please," he responded, walking up to a barstool to sit down.
"I'll brew a cup for you right away." Marinette took the empty coffee maker, suspiciously containing remnants of the drink. Mr. Drake's doing, no doubt. "Mr. Wayne had me get started on breakfast since Mr. Pennyworth isn't here at the moment."
"Ohh," said Duke. "Marinette, right? It's a Saturday today though. Bruce called you in just to make breakfast? He's incompetent but not that incompetent, you know."
"He does require my presence for the interview he's doing." Marinette motioned towards the direction of the drawing room. "I have nothing to do while he's currently conversing with Ms. Sinclair, so he thought I could cook some food for you."
"Pretty sure his main problem was breakfast though."
Marinette slowly nodded in agreement, stirring the contents of one pot. "I didn't object because he promised to compensate me fairly."
"As he should." Duke brought out his phone to check his reflection on the camera. "By the way, do either of you have any tips for an internship interview?"
Cass shrugged and patted his hand. "You'll do well."
"Really? I almost couldn't sleep last night because of it." Duke huffed. "Then Tim told me to just wing it after I caught him making coffee."
Marinette contributed two words while still moving around to cook: "Your cologne."
Duke sniffed himself. "Does it smell bad?"
"It's best to go for a more subtle scent." She wrinkled her nose and momentarily reached for her bag to toss him a bottle that she brought. "Here, this might be more suitable."
"You brought men's cologne?" Duke stared at the glass sprayer in disbelief.
"You'd be surprised at how many things Mr. Wayne unexpectedly needs." The reply drew out a little laugh from Cass.
Duke took a whiff and lit up. "I'll go change and put this on. Thanks, Mars!"
As he raced back up the stairs, Marinette checked the time. She untied her apron, poured out four cups of coffee, and prepared them with differently: the first two (one for Duke), she used only creamer and sugar; in the second one, she added just the right amount of sugar; and in the last, a vanilla flavoring, tower of whipped cream, and a dash of cinnamon. Next, she quickly set up the three drinks on a wooden tray, plus three plates of pastries from the box she brought.
Thank kwamis Alfred has a good kitchen arrangement system, she thought.
"Please excuse me for a moment." She told Cass as she picked up the tray.
She was granted impeccable timing when she slipped into the drawing room—Bruce and Ms. Sinclair had paused their interview, with the latter's eyes immediately gleaming in delight upon seeing the snacks and drinks. Meanwhile, Sinclair's assistant-slash-photographer gawked.
"Excuse me, here's some refreshments." Marinette beamed at the journalist, setting down the tray. "Mr. Wayne picked these pastries just for you, miss. I hope you enjoy them."
"Goodness!" Excitement was practically radiating from the woman. "Aw, Bruce you didn't have to!"
Ms. Sinclair wasn't a difficult person to please. A quick research told Marinette that she had a sweet tooth. A much deeper (totally not borderline stalker-ish) research revealed her favorite coffee blend and pastry shop.
Marinette definitely read a hint of surprise from Bruce, even if he did a good job of concealing it. Because Bruce, in fact, didn't prepare the pastries and is seeing them for the first time. He directed a charming smile at Ms. Sinclair. "It's the least I can do. Please enjoy."
"Such a dear," the woman gushed. "Now I might do three pages of the magazine for you, not two!"
And when Bruce glanced at Marinette, she sent him a look saying 'you better thank the heavens you have me.'
***
When she returned, Duke was back, happily sipping his coffee but along with him was a newcomer.
The youngest son.
Marinette had met Damian Wayne only a few times before and only when Bruce was around. Bruce had introduced him fleetingly, so she had only managed to exchange simple greetings with him, not anything more.
But despite their lack of interaction, Marinette knew a lot about Damian from Bruce's ramblings during lull time at work. He'd tell her 'Damian tried to adopt another cat', 'I think Damian's mad at me', 'How can I get Damian and Jason to bond together?', 'Damian threatened to go back to his mother if I don't agree to let Titus come on vacation with us', or 'I think Damian just used a slang on me. What does this mean?'
Marinette would give her best advice to her boss during those times, but she couldn't help but wonder if the resolutions ever worked with Damian since Bruce never relayed follow-ups.
"Good morning, Damian," she greeted, "Breakfast is almost ready. Would you like a drink?"
"Thomas filled me in." He set his bag on top of the counter. "Father really shouldn't be calling his PA for this. And no, I don't want a drink. I have to go soon."
Duke eyed his brother's outfit. "You have school today?"
"I asked my art teacher if I can come in today to work on my painting as we're not allowed to take our artworks home." Damian replied.
"No need to come in on time," Cass pointed out. "Come eat."
Damian narrowed his eyes at the pans on the stove. "I cannot eat—"
"Vegan kimchi fried rice and tofu scramble," Marinette said, "I cooked something else for you."
". . . Tt. Fine." And he begrudgingly took his seat.
The three siblings watched as Marinette served a feast—the delicious aroma of breakfast wafted around the room as she carefully plated the dishes in perfect portions. She didn't know if her cooking was on par with Alfred's, but she should at least impress them for the good pay she was getting from Bruce. She set down the plates in front of them with a simple 'bon appétit!'
Duke shoveled up the food quickly. "This is so good!" He took another bite.
To this, Cass nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Damian quietly chewed his meal, paying no compliments.
But he gazed up at Marinette. "You're not going to eat?"
"Oh, no thank you," Marinette declined, "I wouldn't want to impose, and I already ate before I came here."
It was a full-on lie. It was taking all of her strength to not let her stomach growling be heard. Although she was inside Bruce's home, she still had to act professional. Luckily, Damian only raised an eyebrow skeptically and continued eating.
***
"Is there anything else you need, Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce seemed stunned for a second after seeing Marinette hand a packed lunch to Duke before he rushed out. He even taste-tested her cooking and remarked how delicious it was.
He blinked at her. "Nothing else. You've done so much already, thank you."
"I should be going home then."
"Wait." Bruce spun around to face his son. "Damian, you're heading out too. Can you drive Marinette home?"
"But Father—"
"I can commute on my own, it's no problem at all." Marinette stepped forward.
"Her residence is on your way to school," Bruce insisted. "And please let him take you, Marinette, as thanks for breakfast."
When her gaze landed on Damian, he didn't seem too happy about it. But how could she deny a free ride?
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She bowed slightly. "I'll see you on Monday."
***
Suffice to say, the walk to the car and most of the ride was full of awkward silence. Marinette tried not to look at Damian every second or so. She went over her mental notes about him. Damian Al Ghul Wayne. The current Robin, who's attending university. Likes animals, broody, formerly extremely violent. If she remembered correctly, he was around her age.
"Take the next right over there and my apartment's in the second building." She offered a small smile. "Thank you for the ride again."
He didn't reply.
He only followed her directions and stopped in front of her building. As a last attempt at communication, Marinette took the box with pastries left over and held it out to him.
"Here, you can take these last two. They're vegan." Marinette watched as his gaze dropped down to the box before lifting up to meet hers.
"No thank you. You should have them instead—you're starving, aren't you?" He tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Besides, you're the one who bought that."
Her eyes widened. Had she been obvious the whole time? "Um, er . . ." She retracted her arms. "Okay. Thank you."
She unclasped her seatbelt and sneaked another glance at him. She was close to opening the door when she stopped. "Hey, can you take off your seatbelt for a sec?"
He frowned. "What?"
"It won't take long, Mr. Wayne."
"I don't—" He cut himself off and sighed, most likely remembering one of their first encounters. He'd ask her to call him Damian, not 'Mr. Wayne' like his father, so she'd only use his last name when he wasn't being cooperative.
Damian did as she said and she reached over to undo his tie. He didn't say anything as she redid the lopsided knot, tying his necktie neatly and smoothing over the creases.
She didn't notice how small the distance between them had become until she felt his breath on her forehead.
"There you go." She pulled away and opened the door. "Alfred usually helps you with that, doesn't he?"
"Yes," he mumbled.
She smiled. "Good luck with your painting, Damian."
Again, silence. But Marinette pretended not to notice him fumbling with his seatbelt as she got out of the car.
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10 | in which Marinette Dupain-Cheng submits her resignation
Part 10 (Last Chapter) of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
Marinette ticked off her mental checklist. Lights? Here. Stage? Ready. Food? All served. She clenched her jaw. Bruce Wayne, her boss, the single most important person for the night?
Missing in action.
She tapped her heeled foot on the ground. It was twenty minutes already, but the entire night's schedule was officially in disarray. Sooner or later, the guests would be asking. She had relentlessly called Bruce's phone over and over again that she didn't even know how many times it was. Even Damian she called a few times yet there was no answer.
She had a guess on what the reason was, but she expected more sense from Bruce—even if it was late at night, he would not be out there fighting crime.
Soon, she waved the figurative white flag and called Alfred after sneaking off somewhere quieter.
"Where is he?" she asked. Straightforward and simple.
"I'm sorry, Miss Marinette. I understand Master Bruce has an event today but . . ." Alfred trailed off. "He is currently unavailable at the moment."
"No, Alfred. Where exactly is he?"
A long pause followed. Then the elderly man spoke again. "I'm afraid he's caught up in a situation. They went out for patrol and seemed to have underestimated their targets. They are currently in a warehouse right now."
"What?" Marinette rubbed her head. Bruce, just. . . how?! "They, as in, all of them?!"
"Yes, Miss Marinette."
"Can no one get them right now?! The event was supposed to start ages ago!"
"Master Duke, Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie are all out of town unfortunately." Alfred sighed. "Actually, may I trouble you to rescue them? It will be faster than calling for backup from the Justice League."
Marinette bit her lip. Kwamis. How could all of them get captured?! What's stopping me from walking out from my job right now, huh, Bruce? I could leave you to your kidnappers all night long.
"I apologize, Miss Marinette, but they cannot seem to get out themselves. I will personally make sure Master Bruce gives you a bonus within the week—"
"Okay, send me the coordinates."
Marinette changed into a dark vigilante-type outfit as fast as she could. Alfred sent an auto-driven ride to her location and she floored the pedal all the way to the warehouse. Relax, Marinette, she told herself, you asked Tam to stall the guests. If we finish this in fifteen minutes and Bruce gives some sort of half-assed excuse to the attendees, it'll be fiiiine.
She pulled down her mask when she arrived at the warehouse. Going into it, she exercised a little bit of caution. But later on, she realized that taking down the men was a piece of cake and maybe the boys just got a little but unlucky.
She slammed the doors open to one room and saw the vigilantes all tied up.
"MMmmf mmff mmm?" Batman asked, but his mouth was duct-taped.
"That's not important right now." Before Marinette cut off their binds, she threw them one by one into the car: Batman at the passenger seat and Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin at the back.
"Who . . .?" Batman started again. The rest seemed speechless with shock (except Damian perhaps, who likely already figured her out).
"How, just how?" Marinette slammed the driver's side door loudly and twisted the ignition with her pent-up rage. "How did all of you get caught up in that?! Did you decide to play along with your kidnappers?!"
". . . Marinette?"
She huffed and drove, calculating the shortest possible route to the event venue. "Did you forget what was tonight, huh? Couldn't resist getting into your fursuit before a big launching event at WE?"
"But . . .but—"
"You literally have no excuse!" Marinette expertly swerved around cars, even nearly running a red light.
Batman reached for the car radio, which was playing a news update covering the WE event but she slapped his hand away.
"I thought I could make it in time," he helplessly explained, pulling his cowl down. "How did you know?"
"No, in case you didn't know, you're not making it in time." She instantly honked the car when another vehicle cut in in front of them. "Don't mess with me tonight, fucker!" She cried out the half-open window.
She swore she saw the boys at the back visibly gulp.
Marinette exhaled a steady breath. "Look, we'll talk about this some other time, but for now, you will go into that event, be a good CEO, and get treatment for your bruises the minute you get home, comprendre?"
"Com—comprendre . . ." Bruce repeated.
Marinette halted at the back of the venue, pulled out a formal outfit from a compartment and threw it at Bruce. Thankfully, he seemed to get the hint and bolted out of the car without complaints.
Marinette directed a glare at the boys through the rearview mirror. "Damian, switch with me. Jason, don't move and keep pressing on that wound. I'll give you first aid but we have to take you to Alfred to get that checked out."
"You got stabbed?!" Tim exclaimed.
"Um yeah." Jason sucked in a breath as Marinette hopped into the back and Damian took the wheel.
"Why didn't you tell us?!"
"You'll make a big fuss out of it." Jason rolled his eyes. "It's no big deal."
Marinette flicked his forehead while Tim helped get Jason's clothes out of the way. "It is a big deal; it looks pretty serious."
"I've had worse." Jason made a face as she treated his wound.
"Okay just because you died once already it doesn't mean you can get overconfident," Marinette sassed.
Tim stared at her with wide eyes. "How the hell did you know that?"
"I know everything." She finished off by wrapping the bandages around Jason's torso. "Sorry Dames, can you drive faster?"
With a nod, Damian sped up, replicating the rush from earlier. Jason also had his jaw hanging. "Demon spawn listens to her."
***
"How long have you known?"
They finally had the chance to sit down and talk the following day in the office. Marinette had her hands calmly folded on top of her lap, while Bruce was looking at her intently on the seat across.
"Ever since I started working for you."
Bruce blinked a few times, as if getting his identity discovered easily was news to him. Marinette continued, "You're not exactly sneaky about it, you know. It was very obvious. Who do you think was covering up for you?"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Bruce asked.
She sighed. "I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to help you from the sidelines like Alfred does and I thought you'd fire me if you knew that I knew."
By the look on his face, he was probably doing a quick flashback to all the times she messed with him as Batman. Bruce opened his mouth for a reply but she interrupted him. "And before you start suspecting me of doing anything bad, I want to let you know that you can trust me with your secret. If I had any ill intent, I would've acted on it a long time ago."
"It's—it's not that I don't trust you . . . it's—well, what made you break last night?"
Her gaze was glued to the floor. "I called Alfred and he told me where you were. I just . . . uhm, aside from the money he offered, I was really upset. The company prepared so much for the event and I put so much time making sure it was perfect. Then you don't show up."
When she looked up, the sting of guilt was evident in Bruce's eyes.
"I'm not faulting you for trying to fight crime," she added. "I just thought you'd be more responsible with your priorities."
"I'm sorry, Marinette," he said softly. "I didn't mean to disappoint you like that."
"Are you mad at me? For not telling you?"
"Mad—? I . . . I'm just surprised, really. But I should've known better. You helped us escape last night and you treated Jason's injury. I shouldn't be angry for that."
Marinette nodded slowly, satisfied with the apology. "I appreciate what you're doing for Gotham, so I'll make sure to keep you and your family's identities safe." She pulled out an envelope. "On a completely unrelated note, I think it's time I give you this."
Suffice to say, Bruce looked like he went through a storm of emotions whilst reading the piece of paper. "Your resignation letter?" He set it down. "If this is because of last night—"
"Nope, it's not because of last night." She smiled. "I just think it's time for me to look for a different career path. I do love my job right now, but I don't see myself as a PA forever."
Bruce's shoulders sagged. "Where will you go?"
"Hmm, recently Queen Industries sent me a good offer—"
"How much did Ollie offer you?" He sprung from his seat. "I'll pay ten times that!"
"Mr. Wayne," she motioned for him to sit back down. "I really do want to explore other options. I think I can get more experience with another company."
"But you'll need to leave Gotham."
She shook her head. "Mr. Queen allowed me to work remotely from Gotham. I'll be a consultant of sorts for their fashion department."
"But . . . but . . ."
"I'll be leaving in about a week. Don't worry, I'll make sure everything's in order for your next PA."
He's really sulking, Marinette observed. I feel a little bad . . .
"Any chance I can still adopt you?"
"Mr. Wayne."
"Fine." He raked a hand through his hair. "Then, will you at least join our family brunch this weekend? As a last 'thank you' to you."
Marinette thought for a moment, remembering a similar invitation from Alfred that Damian relayed earlier. "Sure, I'd love to go."
***
"Are you sure about this?"
Marinette checked her reflection on her phone. They arrived pretty early, but that meant she could help Alfred out for the food prep. Damian parked the car right in front of the manor. "Why? I already submitted my resignation."
"You were forced to quit your job because of me."
"I chose to resign not only because of you, but also because I did want to take Oliver's offer." She reached over to squeeze his hand. "If I stay as your father's assistant, there will always be a professional boundary I can't cross regardless of what's in the contract. You'll always be my boss' son, and I’ll just be your father's assistant. Without that now, I can actually act freely around you. I can even help with vigilante stuff if you need me."
He squeezed back. "Are you not worried about what people will say?"
The headlines flickered in Marinette's head: Bruce Wayne's former PA nabs the billionaire's son.
"Are you?"
"No. I couldn't care less."
"Then I'm not." She beamed. "I've already seen how harsh the media can be. If all goes to shit, we sue the hell out of them."
"Father will be devastated when he finds out."
She shrugged. "He should've seen this coming, honestly."
"Hmm."
"Why?"
"When I marry you, he will have the satisfaction of having you as his daughter however."
"M—marry?" Marinette squeaked. "You're already thinking about marriage?"
"Is that bad?"
"No . . . wait, sorry I was just caught off guard." Her chest fluttered at the thought of their future. "Of course Damian, I'd love to marry you someday."
A small smile played at Damian's lips, the subtle kind that she loved so much. "Now that you're not bound by contract, does that mean I can kiss you anytime I want?"
Marinette answered him with her lips, softly kissing him as his hand lifted to hold her cheek. They parted for a second before he started peppering kisses on the corner of her lips, on her nose and her forehead. She pressed a long kiss on his cheek in return.
"It looks like we won't need to break the news to Father anymore."
"What?"
When Marinette turned around, Bruce was just at the front steps of the manor, disheveled and clad in pajamas and an old bathrobe, plus Robin-themed fuzzy slippers. At his feet laid pieces of a shattered mug, which he had seemingly dropped out of shock.
Marinette laughed. "Oops."
She pressed the button to roll her window down and waved at the dumbstruck Bruce Wayne. "Morning, Bruce! Cute slippers!"
End AN: That wraps up NMWYCAM! Thank you for reading, commenting and kudos-ing this fic; I didn't expect it to blow up this much😮 If you want to know about my next upcoming fic, check out this poll of mine in Tumblr🙂
#maribat fic#maribat fanfic#dc x mlb#mlb x dc#maribat#dc x miraculous#NMWYCAM#PA!Marinette#aaa i can't believe its donee
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6 | in which he orders a strawberry lemonade and peach iced tea
Part 6 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
Marinette was reminded that she somehow had the phone numbers of the Wayne family members when Damian called on a Sunday morning. Rubbing sleep away from her eyes, she answered with her summoned 'PA' voice. "Good morning, Damian. What can I do for you?"
She could feel the wave of hesitance from the other end of the line. "Marinette. I didn't want to call suddenly on a weekend but . . ."
"If there is something you need, I'll be happy to help."
"I'll make sure to pay you—any price, you just name it." Damian sounded a little nervous. Her curiosity merely grew upon hearing it.
"Firstly, I don't want you to think that my time is easily bought with money like I'm some automated assistant—"
"I'm sorry—"
"Secondly," she sighed, "You don't have to offer me payment every single time you ask a favor, okay? I'll be happy to help regardless of the monetary compensation."
"Yes . . . alright, I understand."
"Now, what's the problem?"
Damian coughed lightly. "It's about the oil painting piece I'm working on. I considered it a preposterous idea to ask my siblings since they don't know a lick of art to offer good constructive criticism. I have no intentions of asking Father and I don't want to disturb Pennyworth. I thought perhaps someone with a good eye for artistry can advise me.
"I've finished my painting but I think something is missing from it . . . or something is wrong. Unfortunately, I will barely have any time to remake another one so I plan to salvage this one with the help of your criticism."
Damian Wayne asking for criticism. Huh. Marinette's eyebrows raised. He continued before she could speak. "I will send you a picture shortly or if it's favorable for your schedule, you may come to the manor to get a look."
"Nope."
"Excuse me?"
She swung her legs at the edge of the bed and stretched. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to bring your painting to Gotham Park. Bring an easel if you can. And you're going to wait for me there and I'll tell you what I think. Got it?"
"But—"
"Okay, Damian?"
". . . Yes, okay."
***
Marinette couldn't help but skip along the path on her way to the park. Since it wasn't technically a work-related meetup, she had decided to wear a light summer dress matched with a coat, a beret, and a pair of boots. She wouldn't tell Damian, but she was flattered he chose to come to her for help. Proud even.
She kicked a pebble aside. That means I'll have to do my best then.
She suppressed a laugh seeing Damian sticking out like a gloomy sore thumb in the park. He was hunched over on a bench, with the easel and canvas in front of him but facing away from her.
"You look like a lost kitten." The comment drew a frown from his face.
"It's a simple critique," he said quietly, "Why do we have to be at the park for it?"
"You dare question my methods, Monsieur?" She puts a hand on her chest in mock offense. "Now let's see it."
He turned the easel around.
The image was easy to put together: it was a painting of Titus, curled up in a nap near a window which traced a path of light that illuminated him like a spotlight. The striking point was the overall style of the artwork—visible strokes of warm and cool colors, swirling lines as the texture of the window frame wood, and Damian's signature cleverly disguised into the rough carpeted floor. It was easily a magnificent piece, one that transported Marinette to that same spot in the manor and basked her in the same warmth.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Damian looking back and forth between her and the painting. She could feel his uneasiness, having felt uncertainties about her craft as well, like when a thread became annoyingly loose or a design wasn't quite satisfactory.
"You're right." She tapped on her chin. "It's awful."
He stared at her.
"The choice of the colors are so contrasting that they just end up looking muddy when combined." She pointed to a part of the canvas. "And those proportions on Titus are just unrealistic, the painting focuses too much on the two subjects: the dog and the window, that they outshine the details of the surroundings, and overall? It's boring. No emotion invoked at all. You said there's no time to redo it but you're honestly better off painting a new piece even if it ends up unfinished."
Marinette wished she could take a picture of Damian's unhinged jaw.
"That's not . . . it's not . . ." He looked at his work again. "The colors are meant to contrast and I made sure their combination isn't desaturated. Titus' proportions aren't an issue because the shadows and negative spaces fill in the missing shapes, the subjects are meant to stand out but the details are also exaggerated, and it's not boring—it is meant to appear subtle and simple."
He turned to her, scowling. "You of all people should also know that art doesn't necessarily invoke emotion, rather it is more important that the artist communicates their personal meaning and the audience finds their own interpretation—"
He stopped suddenly and took a good look at her smiling face. At last, the boy catches on, Marinette thought.
"Oh," he mumbled. "I see now."
She nodded. "I brought you out here because I guessed it's much better to look at it under natural light. No offense, but the manor barely gets any of that, especially if you're looking at it inside your room."
Damian touched the edge of the easel, as if connecting once more with his creation.
She inched closer to the painting, bending down a little to examine the finest details he added. "You said you felt something was missing but I think it's as complete as it could be. It's beautiful, Damian, really. I'm happy you let me look at it."
Pink. His ears are pink. Marinette fought off another smile.
"Thank you." Damian looked away. "I've been wondering for a long time what to do with it."
"Are you going to ask for it to be put in the manor gallery?"
"If Pennyworth approves, yes. After the exhibit."
Marinette pouted. "What do you mean 'if Alfred approves'? Of course he will! If not, I'll buy this painting myself!"
His eyebrows raised. "You must know Pennyworth has some criteria for the manor gallery. Mar'i's drawing has only been put on the refrigerator door."
She laughed at that, imagining the scenario play out between the girl and the butler. She let her joy subside when she noticed Damian glancing at a building next to the park. Following his gaze, she spotted a newly-opened store that sold bubble waffles and drinks.
"If you do not like monetary compensation," Damian began, "Perhaps a drink will be more favorable? I heard that the place is in its soft opening."
A smile slowly formed on her lips. "Damian Wayne, are you asking me out on a date?"
"It's not a date!" He hastily denied. "It's a repayment."
"Mmhmm, sure why not? It's getting hot anyways." She sat down on the bench, crossing one leg over another.
He told her to wait there before jogging towards the store. Marinette took more time to admire the painting. Based on Bruce's stories, a younger Damian wouldn't be the type to gently ask for critique, nor one to make sure he did a favor in return. There was even a chance that if she ever recounted the day to her boss, Bruce wouldn't believe any of it.
But if Damian's being all soft and gentlemanly, I've no problem with it, she mused. Minutes later, she got a message from him: a semi-blurred picture of the shop's menu. She aimlessly chose her order and waited some more. He returned not long after with two bright-colored drinks.
"Are you sure this isn't a date?" She asked again.
"A date would require at least one of us to harbor romantic feelings for the other," he told her. "Therefore, it is not a date."
Well no, a date can be a prelude to any romantic feelings, she wanted to argue. But instead, she leaned towards him and smirked the cheekiest of her smirks. "How sure are you that I don't have any romantic feelings for you?"
He choked on his drink.
Marinette let him recover as he dabbed the corner of his mouth. "You have not given indication that you do." He avoided her eyes. "Also, you are legally not allowed to."
"Pfft, my contract with Mr. Wayne says 'thou shall not enter into a relationship with any of the Wayne children'." Her grin is stuck like glue to her face. "Not 'thou shall not flirt with Mr. Wayne's cute son.'"
"But—you . . . what . . . Why would you find me 'cute'?"
"I just do," she replied. "Why do you find Titus cute? Alfred the Cat?"
Damian started sputtering uncharacteristically, barely getting a coherent phrase out.
"Oh, you are just so fun to tease, Damian."
He scoffed loudly, then sipped more of his lemonade. "I'm glad I provide entertainment to your bland life, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."
"Yeah, thanks for that!"
It seemed that he couldn't top her comebacks so he changed the subject. "Finish your drink quickly. I'll take you home."
"A ride home!" Marinette gasped. "This is a date!"
"It's common courtesy. Pennyworth will be disappointed with me if I don't make sure you get home safe."
***
That same night, Marinette was delighted to see that the weather stayed fair, and the sky cloudless. Instead of taking her motorbike, she opted to take a stroll to her favorite fabrics shop a few blocks away from her apartment. Luckily her patterns of choice were all available despite being hard to get.
Unluckily, she noticed shadows following her as she heavy-lifted three bolts down the street.
Marinette tugged down her cap. She was close—just a hair's breadth—to saying, 'It's a bit too late to be stalking your assistant on her way home, don't you think Mr. Wayne?'
But she held onto her tongue and stopped at a well-lit area to glare at the big furry following her. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Batman?" She huffed at him.
Batman coughed, shielding himself with the darkness. "I need to talk to you."
She peered at the bright colors hiding behind him, sporting curious gazes filled with both wonder and excitement. "If it’s only you who needs to talk to me, why is the entire flock here?"
Actually, the others didn't even bother to hide. Black Bat was hugging the lamppost, Spoiler bounced on her heels and Red Robin carried a professional camera. Heck, even Red Hood was there, even though Crime Alley was miles away from the area.
She could feel the exasperation radiating off him, a truly tired parent, as he turned around to give his children vigilante partners a Look™️. In a second, they all grappled upwards, perching on their respective ledges and balcony railings as if they were an eager audience to a performance. (Marinette didn't miss the way Robin glanced her way before he went away).
Marinette arched an eyebrow. "So?"
Batman coughed. That awkward cough Bruce also does. Seriously, how come the world doesn't know his identity yet? "I would like to apologize. For intruding the office and catching you off guard and . . . throwing my weapon at you."
She gave it a minute. Just full silence and a hard stare.
Just to make him squirm.
"Okay," she said slowly. "And why did you think it was a good idea to do this in an empty street at twelve am?"
"You shouldn't be out so late at night anyways."
"What was that?"
". . . Nothing."
Stifled laughter rang from above.
She frowned. "Did Mr. Wayne agree to this? Couldn't you have done this at, I don't know, back in the office where it's safer and less creepy?"
"Wayne said you don't have overtime anymore this month," Batman grumbled.
"What, like you can't drop by during the day? No don't tell me—" She paused. "You're allergic to sunlight!"
He shifted from one foot to another. "Hn. I am not."
"You're a vampire."
"No."
"Don't worry, I won't tell." If her sore arms weren't occupied at the moment, she would've made a zipping motion with her fingers. Seeing Bruce in the spotlight of embarrassment was enough to make up for the incident. "Look at the time, I need to go now."
"We can escort you—"
"No thanks," she declined sharply while walking away. "Don't follow me home or else I'll personally ask Mr. Wayne to put a restraining order on all of you."
Marinette stopped again, remembering something, and without missing a beat, plucked something out from her sweatpants pocket. She grinned. "You forgot this."
With a flick and whoosh, the Batarang sailed towards the vigilante and stuck atrociously to the ear of his cowl.
#maribat fic#maribat fanfic#dc x mlb#mlb x dc#maribat#dc x miraculous#NMWYCAM#PA!Marinette#daminette#maribat damian wayne#damian x marinette
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7 | in which Marinette gets a new career: making Lex Luthor's life an absolute hell
Part 7 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
Sometimes, Bruce gave Marinette additional work that was stipulated nowhere in their contract.
Scratch that, he gave her a lot of work that wasn't part of the contract. Marinette wouldn't complain, obviously, since she was paid extra but occasionally, the additional chores became troublesome.
Nonetheless, there was also extra work that she absolutely enjoyed doing. The type of work that she would've done even if she wasn't compensated. Hell, she'd pay Bruce just to accomplish the task. One such assignment was set for the WE gala.
That night, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the director, and her boss was the star of the show.
She was clad in a modest dress for the big night: gray, calf-length, minimal accessories, pointed heels. The most important part of her outfit, however, was the earpiece discreetly disguised with her hairpin, which put her in a direct line with Bruce.
She peered through the glass windows of the venue, seeing the gala in its grandeur. Fashionably late. That's what they called it. It worked when one wanted to draw attention, because with nearly everyone already present, a metaphorical spotlight would drop down from the sky.
She pressed a button on her earpiece, tucking her tablet close to her chest. "All ready to go, Mr. Wayne."
And of course, since he was Bruce Wayne, he delivered. Heads turned and skirts swished as he made his splendid entrance, just at the right level of 'fashionably late', Brucie-style. He grinned his shiniest grin and immediately greeted the elite guests of the gala he hosted.
Marinette slipped into the threshold herself. "May I remind you not to act too drunk tonight, you're too old for that and it's just going to look sleazy."
"Of course, Marinette, thank you." He replied just as stealthily. "I trust you'll take care of the rest?"
Her lip curled upwards. "Oh, I intend to."
She took her position near the grand staircase, halfway blending in with the shadows. That amount of stealth would rival Alfred's or even Cassandra's. She just had to play another face in the crowd, someone barely noteworthy.
Then, she'll enjoy the show from her earpiece.
Target spotted. There was Lex Luthor in all his Mr. Clean glory, hanging out with other guests dressed fancily by the banquet table. At first, Marinette was quite surprised he accepted the invitation to a Wayne gala. But then she thought that Luthor would probably push his pride aside just to keep up appearances.
But it was amusing to see that a few of the people crowded around him left to flock to Bruce Wayne.
Her gaze turned towards her boss. He was dressed a bit differently than his usual gala outfit: a flashy golden suit with black markings on the fabric. They commissioned the design from M.D.C., but lent the production to WE's clothing department. Seeing the suit play its role proved that it truly helped Bruce steal the show.
Marinette waited until Luthor was closer to the table. Then she headed straight to it, swiping a mini fruit tart for herself to cover up the nimbleness of her fingers. Poor clueless Luthor, she thought when she successfully retreated back to the staircase.
The effects didn't take too long to see. As soon as Luthor moved to walk with the person he was chatting with, the tablecloth followed him, and so did the rest of the plates, utensils, bowls, and the gorgeous wine tower. The crash was like music to Marinettte's ears as heads turned and Luthor stared gobsmacked at the mess he'd accidentally caused.
The mess he undeniably caused, since the part of the tablecloth was still pinched between his belt and slacks.
The silence was deliciously deafening.
Until one jovial voice cut through.
"Lexie!" Bruce gently pushed past the group swarming around him. "Are you alright?"
Luthor's mouth opened. And closed again. Opened. Closed. "I didn't—how did . . ."
"My my, have you drunk too much wine?" Bruce's gaze swept over the ruined table which the staff were trying to clean up. "You've got to be a little careful, Lex."
Whispers rampaged within the crowd.
Luthor, seemingly trying to hold onto his composure, forced out a laugh. "That's funny, I barely drank tonight."
Bruce nodded sympathetically. "They say your tolerance does go down with old age. If you're feeling dizzy, you can rest upstairs—"
"No!" Luthor suddenly yelled. But immediately after, he cleared his throat and said in a softer tone, "No, thank you. Bruce. I'm feeling okay. I apologize for the mess I caused; I'll make sure to compensate for everything."
Marinette was nearly proud of the faux but extremely convincing smile that Bruce put on. "Very well. How about I help you get a new suit? It seems that some of the wine has stained yours."
***
Tim wasn't in the gala (he was both extremely sleep-deprived and unwilling to go), so Marinette took the liberty of sharing a video of Luthor's incident to him, which he would probably be sending to the family group chat. She conversed with the young CEO for a while, receiving praises on her skills as she waited for her target to come back.
It didn't take long for Luthor to return, all cleaned up like nothing happened. Although there were considerably fewer people who wanted to be near him. It was funny, to Marinette, how Luthor seemed to avoid the table as well.
Unfortunately for you, that doesn't make you safe. Unbeknownst to the general public, the gala venue was extremely dynamic since it was designed to cater almost any event. There were panels and advanced machinery controlling parts of the area, including the elevated stage that doubled as a gallery for the charity's exhibit.
The one who had guest access to the control was none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
She just had to be patient. Luthor moved around a lot, likely because he didn't want to be caught off guard. He had stepped up onto the stage following an exec who was proud to show the gallery. At the time they came down, Marinette pressed a button on her tablet to make the steps move.
With a smack, Luthor's face met the polished floor.
Dramatic gasps echoed around. Faces of concern, some of indifference, others mocking. Like the hero he was, Bruce rushed to Luthor's side to offer a helping hand.
Luthor looked just about to slap his hand away, but he accepted it with a firm grip instead with an overly forced grin.
"Maybe you should lie down after all, Lexie," Bruce pouted. "You can't even walk straight."
The other man laughed a little too loudly. "No need to make it a big deal. It was just an accident."
Bruce clapped him on the back. "No need to be shy around me, hm? Tell me when you need to get some rest."
Whoa, that blood vessel is ready to pop on his head, Marinette observed when Luthor broke away from Bruce and stalked towards the drinks table near her in irritation. He poured out a drink for himself—
"Lexie, why did you run off? You should stay with me, you might cause another accident!" Bruce cried out.
Luthor whirled around. "That—that's a tempting offer, but I shouldn't trouble you," he said through gritted teeth.
"You look really red. I think you should step away from the wine . . ."
"I barely had a sip!"
Luthor turned back around to pick up his glass but it was gone. Meanwhile, Marinette brought the glass to her lips, savoring the expensive wine. She unintentionally locked eyes with Luthor, who looked like he realized who stole his drink. No one will ever believe you if you try to tell them, Marinette inwardly said. Giving him her most feral smile, she downed the drink in one go.
"That!" Luthor jabbed a finger in her direction. "Bruce! Isn't that your assistant?! She's the one causing trouble for me the whole night!"
"My assistant? Lexie, you must be seeing things! I gave her the night off—why would I need my assistant at a gala?"
At the moment Luthor forced him to look, Marinette had already slipped away somewhere else as if she'd vanished.
***
To other people who didn't know of Bruce's alter ego, it would be a mystery why he never had bodyguards with him. But to those in the know (exempli gratia, Marinette) it made sense, since Bruce had to slip in and out in times of emergencies and can defend himself pretty well. Marinette also had prior knowledge that Bruce sometimes let himself be captured to comply with the act. This kind of situation was one Marinette never wished to witness.
They were heading to a hotel for an investor and partnership meeting. Only Marinette, Bruce and the driver were in the limousine when the vehicle grinded to a halt. Peering towards the driver's seat, Marinette saw that the driver had slumped on top of the wheel.
"What the . . ."
The door was pulled open, and masked men armed with guns started pointing at them and telling them to get down. A couple pulled Bruce out of the limo, throwing him down on the pavement to be restrained.
"A kidnapping!" Airheaded 'Brucie' was on display, almost marveling at the situation they were in. "Haven't had those in a while. Careful now, don't be rough with my assistant."
Marinette stared at her boss in disbelief.
Is he . . . is he serious right now?!
Bruce was barely fighting back. No, he didn't fight back at all. You could've taken them all out and told me to keep quiet! Are we seriously doing this right now?! Are you secretly a masochist? Kwamis, we are going to be late for that meeting!
Marinette shut her mouth as she was also pulled out. The men were about to throw a gagged and bound Bruce into their (totally not suspicious) white van. We can't afford to miss this event, it's important for WE!
First, she disarmed them, kicking and knocking off the guns in their hands. One by one they fought back at her but she broke bones and pulled muscles flawlessly, not letting them land a single hit on her. Finally, she rounded them up in a neat circle with their own ropes and zip ties before dabbing the sweat on her forehead. Some of the men were unconscious, some were just disoriented.
Bruce was gawking at her. "Was that in your resumé?"
Marinette put her hands on her hips. "I didn't think it was relevant for the position. I took martial arts lessons in case . . . you know . . . I needed to kick an akuma's ass back in Paris."
"Oh."
"What were you even thinking, Mr. Wayne?" She glowered. "I know you also had self defense lessons—you could've fought back!"
"But—"
"Don't tell me you did it on purpose!"
Bruce quickly avoided her gaze. "I know how to stall the kidnappers until the vigilantes arrive for rescue."
"So you just sit still and do nothing?" Marinette scolded. "Mr. Wayne, who will sign my paychecks if something happens to you?"
"I'm used to it."
She gave him an unimpressed look. We're going to be late for the meeting anyway. Not to mention I'd have to get him a new suit and send his current one for drycleaning.
"Fine. You pride yourself now as a professional captive?" She smiled humorlessly. "Give me one good reason not to sacrifice you to these kidnappers right now."
"Wait, no—"
Marinette didn't even wait. She ushered her boss into the kidnappers' van and practically skipped towards the astounded masked men to free them. Albeit confused and still disoriented, the kidnappers took Bruce away and Marinette bade them goodbye while waving.
***
Of course, Marinette wasn't going to just leave Bruce like that. She still had her paycheck to worry about after all. After calling an ambulance for the driver, she drove the limousine herself and raced through the streets of Gotham, following Bruce's location through her tablet.
She arrived in a typical warehouse near the docks, as expected from amateur kidnappers. It was getting dark, but she allowed herself to enjoy the sunset for a little while. From her guesses, the rest of the family members would've already been alerted of his situation, so she took her place beside the building's door.
Lo and behold, it was Batman who arrived. Dick-Batman.
"Wait," she said when he passed by her.
. . . And she pretended not to notice him leaping back in shock.
"Huh?" Dick-Batman sputtered out. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous—"
"Don't rescue him yet."
"What? Why?"
Marinette examined her fingernails casually. "He's enjoying playing damsel in distress right now while learning a very important lesson. Give it around five to ten minutes."
"Uhh, okay?"
Dick-Batman just leaned on the wall beside her in an awkward stance, trying to inconspicuously talk through his comms.
**
Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @animegirlweeb @fairlyfatale
@agentxx92
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5 | in which Marinette Dupain-Cheng is behind schedule
Part 5 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
Marinette's schedule had become a mess.
She went to the grocery store to do some late night shopping, but when she got to the fresh produce section, the place had fallen victim to a robbery. So there she was, cart positioned in front of her, leaning against the crates after the customers were all told to get down. She tapped on her knees restlessly—Gotham's vigilantes hadn't arrived yet.
If the robber is intercepted in forty minutes, I'll have fifteen minutes to finish shopping and fifteen more to fall in line and pay. Her face twisted into a frown. That's too much time off from work and sleep.
Marinette yawned and peeked through the aisles where the goons were yelling at the poor cashiers. Does it count as work time if I help the vigilante side of my boss? She wondered tiredly. She'd promised not to get too involved when such things happened (she had a cover to keep after all), but the interruption had become an annoyance.
Fine, if they're not here yet after ten minutes, I'm kicking those asses myself, she decided. She opted to scan her surroundings instead to save some time looking for items.
Finally, the sound of grappling guns whizzed in the air, followed by capes swishing. The Bats wasted no time introducing their fists to the criminals. Marinette rolled her eyes. Seriously, how'd they get the idea to rob a grocery store? It's too big of a space for a small group of robbers—anyone can run out and get some help—ooh, wait, is that half-priced lettuce?
Unfortunately for her, the vigilantes seemed to be taking a longer time rounding up all the robbers. She really really wanted to get the lettuce and go back to her apartment. A few more minutes passed and she made up her mind to transfer her items to a basket and crawl through the floor to continue shopping. If I can get to the self-checkout line, maybe I can still follow my schedule, thought Marinette.
She made her way between shelves, grabbing what she needed while laying low without a care in the world about the grunts and punches and kicks she was hearing. She got her precious lettuce, moved on to the frozen section for a while, and then back to the main aisles to fetch the seasonings she needed. Whenever she got a glimpse of Batman, she ducked out of he way, knowing that he'll fuss over her the next day if he found out that she was in the middle of the robbery.
Alas, she forgot to also pay attention to the other Bats. While she was on her knees, ground pepper in one hand, she looked up to see Robin who was staring at her in shock.
She stared back with a straight face.
"What are you doing? " Robin finally spoke.
"Shopping," she said, putting the pepper shaker in her basket.
"What—how—why now? "
Marinette settled for no more than one word. "Capitalism."
The boy cleared his throat, seemingly still puzzled by her actions. "Have you seen other robbers holding customers hostage around here?"
She distractedly pointed to the next aisle over and he took off.
***
Marinette thought she got the stabby Robin off her back, but he came up to her while she was in self-checkout after the robbers were all rounded and tied up.
"What are you doing?" The vigilante asked. "We need your statement first before you leave, miss."
When Marinette looked up, she saw a number of other patrons continuing their business . . . plus Batman speaking with the commissioner. Seriously, he couldn't have asked anyone else?
"What you did was dangerous. You could've been seen by them," Robin scolded.
"I was in a hurry. There was half priced lettuce." Marinette began to shove all the goods into multiple bags as fast as she could.
"You could've waited—"
"No, I couldn't." With a nod, Marinette took all the heavy bags into her arms and ran out of the store as fast as she could.
***
The company didn't require her to work late at night, obviously, but it became a habit for Marinette just like when she sketched before bed. It helped her set things in order for the next day and go over the details she needed to prepare. WE was by no means the perfect corporation and Bruce wasn't the perfect boss, but Marinette was content with her job, especially since it paid well.
She tucked her legs up her chair, reading the files under the yellow light. Yes, WE had its own faults—there were still supervisors from the Marketing Department who'd send interns on coffee runs instead of giving them actual work, and a few execs seemed keen on pocketing money for themselves. Though if she could pick out those issues one by one and bring them up to Bruce, it would be a good change in the workplace.
Meanwhile, as the girl focused on her work, a few vigilantes hung out outside of her window.
"Tt. Father, are you overworking Marinette?"
"What?"
"I found her in the store shopping while the robbers were still active." Robin crossed his arms. "When I asked she only said 'capitalism'."
". . . What?"
***
One office day, Tim decided to stretch and take a walk outside his office for a break. He wandered into the copy room, where he saw Marinette waiting by the printer. He was a little sleepy by that time, but managed to greet her with a quick 'hello' which she reciprocated, followed by: "Do you need anything, Mr. Drake?"
He yawned. "No thanks."
He'd say he needed coffee but he knew Bruce banned him from consuming any more for the week.
After the copy room, he then went to the break room where he found Marinette again. This time, she handed him a cup of what looked like decaf, freshly prepared. "Uh." He squinted at her. "Weren't you just . . ."
"Hmm?"
"You were just . . ." He pointed towards the direction he came from. "Nevermind."
Maybe he was starting to hallucinate.
Not wanting to decline the drink, he took a seat and began taking small sips. He idly watched Marinette heat up pastries for snacks, probably for Bruce. A few minutes ticked by and he excused himself to go to the toilet.
. . . Where he saw Marinette coming out of the ladies' room.
"Weren't—" he sputtered. "You—you were just in the break room! I left you there!"
Marinette's smile appeared forced, but concerned. "No, I wasn't . . .?"
"You were!"
". . . Perhaps you should get some sleep, Mr. Drake," Marinette advised.
"No, I swear! You were there!"
She gave yet another worried smile and went off towards the elevator. Tim shook his head as he went to the bathroom. Had he lost his mind after all? He finished his business quickly and hurried back to his office to gather his thoughts.
But as he passed by Bruce's office he caught someone going out the door.
Someone by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
"Didn't you go downstairs?!" He exclaimed, wide-eyed. This particular Marinette seemed surprised by his outburst.
"Sorry?"
"You went to the elevator!"
"No, I was here." She raised an eyebrow. "In Mr. Wayne's office."
He grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her. " What are you?!"
He was sure he saw her disappear through the sliding doors. He was certain it was her who was in the break room, and outside the bathroom, and inside the copy room. He didn't stop mumbling nonsense until a curse-spouting, stressed Tamara Fox dragged him away from the confused Marinette.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
What the poor Tim Drake didn't know unfortunately, was that Marinette strived to meet deadlines every day. And when schedules were tight, she simply couldn't do all her tasks by herself.
So, occasionally, the assistant would pull off a little Hermione Granger and employ the help of a certain time-traveling Miraculous to be in several places at once.
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NMWYCAM [bonus deleted chapter]
This is a scene i wrote out but couldn't fit into the current chapters :)
Originally Damian was going to find out that Marinette knows their secret in another way...lol he was gonna get badly injured as Robin and Marinette saves him but reveals she knows his identity
***
2:51 a.m. Marinette was still awake, despite the kwamis telling her off. She found herself having excess energy that night, so she decided on sketching under the yellow desk lamp with some music on. All was calm and peaceful until her phone buzzed.
Damian: Hello
Damian: Are you awake? Can I call you right now?
Her keyboard popped up for the reply, but more messages came in.
Damian: You're probably sleeping
Damian: ...
Damian: sorry
Damian: I shouldn't have bothered
Damian: sweet dreams, Marinette
Smiling, she went ahead and pressed the call button. When it took him several rings to answer, she pictured a panicked Damian fumbling to answer his phone.
"What's up?" She asked.
"Did I wake you?" His warm voice filled her ears. "Sorry . . ."
"No, no, I was awake. Couldn't sleep." Marinette propped her legs up on her chair, tucking them to her chest. She saw a groggy Tikki peek out of her small blanket but she waved the kwami off to go back to sleep. "Is something the matter?"
"No, I . . . I was just lying in bed and got the sudden urge to talk to you," Damian recounted. "Is that strange?"
Marinette brought the back of her hand to her reddened cheek. This boy. "I think that means you miss me, Damian," she laughed. "How was patrol?"
"It went smoothly. We disrupted a smuggling operation and put Riddler back in Arkham. You? What were you doing?"
"Ah just drawing out some ideas. Nothing too important." Snuggled in her blanket under the calm night and talking to Damian was like a tight embrace, Marinette realized. "I hope you didn't push yourself too hard."
A scoff sounded out from Damian. "Father threatened to bench me when I chased after the Riddler. The others kept watching me like I'll disappear into thin air."
"They're just worried about you, you know. As they should be."
"I only need you to worry about me." A long pause. Then a long sigh. "Sorry, I . . . I don't know why I said that."
Marinette hummed, feeling more heat crawl under her skin. "It's alright. They say your inhibitions are looser at night, especially when you're tired. But it's okay to be vulnerable; it's just me."
"What do you mean by that? 'It's just you'?"
"I mean I understand that you're being honest about whatever you say to me right now. I won't judge you for it. I won't even bring it up tomorrow if that's what you want." She pressed her phone closer to her ear. "I don't want you to feel that you need to keep something to yourself just because it's me hearing your words."
". . . How come you always say the right thing?"
"I guess it's my forte?"
"What if I can't say the right things?"
"Just talking to you like this is enough for me," Marinette said. "I can be the one good with words, and you can be the one good with actions. You always are."
"That's not fair at all. You are also good with actions."
That elicited another laugh from her. "But you are very good at taking care of people through your gestures. Not a lot can do that."
"You're the only one who has ever said that."
"'Cause I'm the only one who notices."
Soon, whilst they talk, Marinette noticed that he was mumbling the ends of his words. Later on when she finished her amusing story about a deal with a client, she didn't hear a reply, but instead, light snoring at the other end of the line.
He sounds so relaxed. Now she had the urge to look at his sleeping face.
"Good night, Damian," she whispered. "I miss you too."
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9 | in which nights are spent, kisses are missed, secrets are laid out
Part 9 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
"Hello? Damian?" Marinette tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued sorting out the files. "Listen, something came up at the office today and Mr. Wayne won't be able to meet you for dinner outside. Sorry, it was an emergency. He said he'll postpone, though! I'm marking his calendar right now."
"Hm. I'm on my way to the restaurant and I believe it's already reserved," said Damian. "Will you be occupied as well? Why not come in place of Father?"
Marinette paused, slowly registered what he had offered, and then smiled. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
"I suppose so, yes."
"Really? Didn't you say for it to be a date, one has to harbor some sort of romantic feelings for the other?"
"Yes, I did say that."
Marinette couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. And her reddening cheeks. Kwamis, was that him trying to flirt? When did Damian learn how to flirt?
"Well, are you free?"
"Yes, I am in fact." Marinette practically burst into her boss' office and shoved the remaining documents into his hands. "At seven, right? I'll see you."
She packed all her things in a hurry and sped home on her motorcycle to get ready. Though Bruce would oppose this 'date' of theirs if he knew, she didn't want to miss the opportunity. I'm already off the clock anyway. Let's just hope Bruce won't come crashing our dinner.
***
"Thank you for accepting the invitation on short notice."
Marinette had to admit, Damian cleaned up well. Since the restaurant was on the fancy end, he wore a simple button down that complimented his eyes. Marinette herself had only changed into a red blouse but kept her office skirt.
"I would've been in bed with microwaved dinner and my laptop if you hadn't invited me anyway," Marinette beamed as she took a seat. "Still, I didn't expect you to actually invite me."
"I thought you needed a break from your work," said Damian. "The company seems very busy nowadays. And you're still taking your online courses, aren't you?"
Marinette could've melted on the spot. Damian was always the support behind her like that. At first there were only little gestures: updating her if any of his siblings might come to the office and cause trouble; telling off his father for making her do extra work; dropping off snacks for her when he visited. Soon they became comfortable with texting each other regularly.
"I'll be fine," she assured him. "There will be a big event two weeks from now, so everyone's trying to meet deadlines."
"Are you getting enough sleep?"
"Yes, Damian."
"Eating enough?"
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I am, mom."
"Has Father been bothering you too much?"
"It's just the usual," she said. "Actually, I think he's careful not to give me more work because he knows I tend to overwork. You don't need to worry, okay?"
Damian lowered his gaze, staying still for a moment. "You're like Pennyworth," he told her. "People like you . . . you help out people like Father at the expense of your wellbeing. I've seen it take a toll on Alfred sometimes—he is still human after all. I thought you needed a break from all that."
He looked up at her. "If you're taking care of everyone, who's taking care of you?"
Marinette just stared. There were some tears prickling at the back of her eyes but she didn't dare let it take over. Damian had hit close to home without meaning to.
"Ah, you're right." She noticed that her voice was thick. Oh fuck, fuuuck the tears are spilling. "Sorry, I . . . sorry."
"Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"
"No, I . . ." She took a deep breath. "I just remembered something. Before, I used to do a lot of favors for a lot of people too. My parents, my friends, even acquaintances. Sometimes I never noticed how many things were already on my plate and so I end up so stressed out trying to please everyone."
To save Paris. To keep the city from crumbling under my watch.
"If you do feel stressed out, I'm here."
"What are you trying to say?"
"What I meant earlier. I . . ." Damian's expression contorted, as if he were looking for the right words. "I've been trying to sort out my feelings recently and I want you to know that I care a lot about you. More than in the sense of friendship."
He likes me back. He actually reciprocates. Marinette's heartbeat stuttered.
"But you know my contract, right?"
"Yes, that is why I won't ask you to—well—enter into a relationship with me. Your job is on the line after all."
Looking to her side, Marinette saw twin doors leading to a spacious balcony. She needed to talk with Damian properly, and it was best they had some privacy. She turned back to him. "Do you mind if we step out?"
Damian quietly told the waiter and ordered the chef's recommendation before leading her to the balcony. Marinette took the liberty of closing the doors and then turned to him. "I just want to get some things out of the way since you confessed to me."
"I know about you," she said in one breath.
"Know about what?"
Marinette subconsciously fidgeted with her hands. "I know. I know everything. Mr. Wayne is Batman, you're Robin, your siblings are the other vigilantes."
He fell dead silent, which worried her a little. Was it a bad idea to tell him that after all? Kwamis, I should've kept my mouth shut. Now he's going to look at me differently and take back his confession and tell his father and I'll be fired from my job and forced to live in the streets forever blacklisted by Gotham's vigilantes—
". . . I see," he finally uttered.
She twisted her fingers. "Are you upset?"
"I don't know . . ." Damian stepped forward. Closer to her. "I shouldn't have underestimated your intuition. I also shouldn't hold it against you since Father's identity is glaringly obvious at this point."
"I trust you, Marinette," he added softly while taking both of her hands in his. "If you know about me, about my family, but still return my feelings then I shouldn't complain. I was afraid I'd need to tell you myself and you will see me differently."
Her eyes widened. "What? No, that doesn't make a difference! I mean, uhm, it makes me understand why you always look tired in the morning or why you're concerned when I go out at night. I'd never think it makes you a bad person."
"What if I told you I've killed people before?"
She bit her lip. "Um, can I tell you another secret?"
He nodded.
"I know your mother."
Damian's eyebrows shot up. "My mother? You know . . . everything that I did?"
"Yes." Marinette drew out a slow slow breath. "Yeah I, uh, I know her and it may or may not be because of my time in Paris as a magical girl saving Paris from akuma attacks."
"Ladybug. That was you?"
"Basically."
"And mother was . . ."
"My teacher of sorts."
She let him take it all in but couldn't read his face. Is he too shocked? Amazed? Sad? Angry? Betrayed? Is he going to walk out of the restaurant?
"I wanted to tell you so you know fully what kind of person I am," she quickly supplied. "I don't like keeping secrets from people I'm close with after hiding one for so long."
"It . . . it all fits, I suppose," said Damian with a squeeze to her hands. "You're a hero."
"Former hero," she shrugged.
"You still are. It must've been hard to shoulder that responsibility."
"You have no idea." Marinette chuckled. " . . .So?"
He blinked. "So?"
"You still, er, like me?"
"Of course I do. Nothing will change." Closer. Closer. He pulled her gently closer to him. "What about you?"
"I like you a lot. I really do."
His lips look . . . inviting.
"But?"
"There's no 'but'." She shook her head. "That's it. I like you."
His head lowered down to hers, gaze flickering downwards. He was so close, close enough for her to feel his breath fanning on her skin. But at the last second, she pulled away.
"Sorry we can't." She looked up at him apologetically. "Not yet."
"Oh . . ."
Instead of a kiss on the lips, Marinette tiptoed to press one on his cheek. "It's okay. I'll get this to work out." She squeezed his hands. "Trust me."
bonus deleted scene: here
#this is the penultimate chapter :)#maribat fic#maribat fanfic#dc x mlb#mlb x dc#maribat#dc x miraculous#NMWYCAM#PA!Marinette
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8 | in which Bruce is not the only aspiring Marinette-adopter
Part 8 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
"A visit to the Kent family farm?" Marinette echoed, "This sounds like a family event only. Are you sure I should be going?"
"I know it sounds like I'm pre-adopting you—"
"Yes, it absolutely sounds like that—"
"But Dick suggested for you to come instead of him since he won't be able to come," Bruce explained. "Besides, Lois specifically asked for you."
Lois, huh. Marinette felt an incoming headache already. On one hand, a part of her knew she should be declining it firmly but it would be terribly impolite to turn down the invitation as well. It was a problem indeed.
But if I go, I can just stick to the Kents and avoid the Waynes, right? She wondered. It's free food too and I won't need to work on a Friday.
One work week later, she ended up squeezed inside a van with Bruce behind the wheel, driving to Smallville. She had a basket of pastries at her feet, window to her left and Damian on her right. Everything seemed to be going fine when—
Screech!
The car suddenly halted and before Marinette knew it, Damian's arm was in front of her to keep her from face-planting on the back of the car seat.
"Sorry! There was a dog!" Bruce apologized from the front seat.
"If you were gonna drive this bad, you should've let me drive instead," Jason groaned from the passenger seat, rubbing his head.
"Yeah, Bruce, you should've told us if you were gonna send us to an early grave," Stephanie piped up from the back. "Damn it Cass, we have to redo the cracker tower."
When Marinette took a peek, she saw that the girls were trying to pile up some Ritz crackers on top of a sleeping Tim's forehead. Tim (lucky for him) was just snoring away the whole time.
Bruce threw his second son a look. "We both know you're going above the speed limit if you drive."
"I only speed when I'm on my bike!" Jason denied. "I can definitely drive better than you, old man."
Marinette figured these were the effects of not having Alfred around. The butler had to go to the farm ahead of them in the promise of helping the elder Kents prepare. But Marinette knew Alfred just secretly wanted to escape the family's chaos.
"Are you okay?" Damian whispered beside her. She nodded and smiled in reply.
In fact, Marinette was about to open her mouth to offer to drive but then she remembered her agreement with Bruce: on the trip, she wasn't supposed to act as an assistant but rather a family friend. She sighed inwardly in defeat.
"Father, if you're already too old to drive, I can take over the wheel as well," Damian said.
"I'm not too old to drive." Bruce rolled his eyes. "It's fine, I can handle this."
"Famous last words," Jason scoffed. "If Dickie were here he'd arrest you for reckless driving."
"I'm not recklessly driving!"
Marinette withheld a chuckle. Seeing someone causing trouble for Bruce other than herself was amusing. She stretched as much as the small space allowed her and whispered to Damian, "Can I rest my head on you?"
He stared at her for a moment. "Of course."
Grinning, Marinette leaned her head against his shoulder. Their arms were only slightly touching but she could feel his warmth. From her position, she could see Bruce squinting at them through the rearview mirror.
"Bruce, eyes on the road please," Duke warned.
Bruce huffed through his nose but focused on driving.
"Why can't Clark take us there instead?" Stephanie complained, "It'll be much faster."
An image was painted in Marinette's head: Superman carrying the van over the skies while Bruce sulked on the front seat.
"He's busy," Bruce replied, glancing towards Marinette (probably checking if she found the statement odd). "Don't you think I'm perfectly capable of taking us there safely?"
"Nope," Stephanie responded.
"Ditto," Cass said.
Stephanie snorted out a laugh. "I only agreed to go anyway 'cause Kara and Lois are there."
"Ditto."
"Hey if he gets any worse at driving, I'll call Alfred and tell him we got kidnapped," Jason suggested.
"No, you're not," Bruce sighed in exasperation.
"Twenty-one crackers!" Stephanie cheered suddenly. "Agghh, hold it there Cass, I'm taking a picture!"
Marinette's gaze strayed downwards. Our hands are really, really close. Their knuckles are just barely brushing. Sucking in a breath, she moved her fingers to touch the back of Damian's hand. To her surprise, his hand wrapped around hers with his thumb rubbing her knuckles.
The car swerved again.
"BRUCE!"
"That's it, I'm calling Alfred."
"Fuck! The crackers!"
". . . Wha . . . huh? What's happening?"
***
"Where is she?! Where's Marinette?"
One of the things Marinette dreaded. Seeing Lois Lane-Kent again. The woman practically squeezed past the other Kent boys to lock her in a suffocating hug the moment she stepped out of the van.
"Marinette!" Lois said, pulling away and squishing her cheeks together. "Jeez, recommend an assistant job to a girl and she never reaches out anymore!"
"I answer your calls sometimes," Marinette weakly protested.
"But no visits." Lois turned to Bruce with an accusatory glare. "Are you overworking the poor girl?!"
"No, no, I'm fine." Marinette gently pulled away from her hold while Bruce escaped to help the others prepare the picnic table. "It's a great job, honestly. The pay is very generous."
"You know Marinette, Lois?" Duke asked as he helped unload another box from the van.
"You haven't told them?" Lois looked at her, and Marinette responded with a sheepish look.
Lois smiled proudly, wrapping an affectionate arm around Marinette. "I had the absolute honor of interviewing this girl about the Paris akuma attacks. She was the civilian aide for the heroes!"
"Lois," Marinette groaned.
"We kept in touch, and I was the one who suggested she get a PA job at WE when she moved to Gotham." Lois patted the top of her head. "Hmph, on second thought I should've kept you as an assistant for myself."
"I told you, journalism isn't my expertise," said Marinette.
"You're a brilliant girl, you can learn! If you stay in Metropolis, you can even live with us!"
Marinette's eyes widened in horror. "No please, I've had enough of serial adopters."
"What? Oh, is Bruce trying to . . ." She scowled at the girl's boss again. "I knew it! I knew this would happen, agh I shouldn't have sent you to him!"
"Lois . . . no, you can't legally adopt me . . ."
The woman's eyes gleamed. "But illegally?"
"You were a civilian aide?" Damian asked, staring at Marinette.
"No big deal. I just worked behind the scenes to help defeat Hawkmoth." She kept a wary eye on Bruce. If he were to find out, he will combust for sure . . . and become more adamant on adopting her.
"Read my article, you'll see how amazing she is!" Lois boasted.
"Lois, please," Marinette sighed. "I'll go set these up at the table."
Fortunately, a savior by the name of Ma Kent called Lois back to the house so Marinette was able to shake her off. She was grateful for the journalist, really—recounting what happened to Paris was no easy feat and often other reporters liked to focus on the heroes and villain only, not the trauma or lasting damage on the city. Lois even helped her settle in, lecturing her on the dangers of Gotham despite not being its resident.
But Lois was . . . the second one who expressed the desire of adopting her before Bruce.
"Didn't know the Waynes had a new one," a new voice said.
"Kon!" Marinette put down the basket and reached up to hug the boy. "I didn't know you're here!"
"When I heard you were coming, I knew I couldn't miss this." Kon raised an eyebrow. "You're such a traitor, Mars, you're one of them now?"
"Of course not!" She huffed. "I wanted to skip out on work and, er, Lois wanted me to come."
Another familiar face approached the two. "Full offense, but you look like you're part of the Wayne family now."
Marinette lowered her tone to a whisper, leaning to give Jon a side hug. "Mr. Wayne wishes." She rolled her eyes. "But he can't, obviously."
A few feet away from them, Clark fell into a coughing fit. Oops, he heard that didn't he? Marinette's cheeks reddened.
She had been visiting Metropolis during her third meet up with Lois. At that time, she had the two boys join them for lunch, and that was when Marinette got to meet them. Both seemed just as energetic as the Wayne boys, by her observation, but in a different way.
Jon threw an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, is it just me or Damian looks extra broody?"
"Probably . . . jealous?" Kon looked at the boy.
"Jealous of what?" asked Jon. Slowly, his head turned towards Marinette, seemingly coming to a realization little by little. "What? No way."
"Maybe . . . yes way." Marinette brushed a hand over her bangs. "There was this, um, thing on our way here you see."
"What is it? What is it?"
Marinette rubbed her heated cheek. "I'll tell you later!"
Just then, Clark came to the table to set down some glasses and utensils. "It's nice seeing you again, Marinette. You haven't run into another Batman-related trouble I hope?"
"Batman-related trouble?" Jon repeated, directing a curious look towards her.
"Nope, not at all," Marinette chuckled. "In fact, he stalked me one night in an empty street just to apologize."
Clark's eyebrows raised. "He did?"
"You never told us that!" Kon chimed in.
"I know, it's a long story." Marinette grinned evilly. "But I think it's best told over lunch with everyone."
***
"Tea or coffee?" Marinette asked her guest, who was sitting at her humble dining table, hands folded together.
"Tea please, my dear. I do miss your personal brew—it's one of a kind."
Marinette rolled her eyes as she grabbed a teacup from the upper cabinets. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
The guest tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "It's not flattery. It's only a comment."
Marinette prepared the tea diligently, and even brought out leftover banana bread she made for herself and her neighbors. From her periphery, she could see the woman looking over the photographs she had framed on the pastel walls. "There's too much of you who want to adopt me, you know," she said.
"Oh?"
"My boss and . . . Lois just the other day. I don't know if she was joking or not." Marinette scrunched her nose. "Seriously, legally none of you can adopt me."
"Who said I was going to do it by legal means?"
"Kwamis, don't say that, Talia. I think Bruce is an inch away from doing it under the table too."
With the tea and snacks prepared, Marinette put everything on a wooden tray she put together herself and brought it over to the table. If she anticipated Talia's visit, she would've cooked an entire meal. Alas, the woman popped up during the most unexpected hours.
"Your honey jar is very cute." Talia chuckled.
"Hmpf. It was a gift." A house-warming (or apartment-warming?) gift from Adrien: a custom transparent jar with a cat design painted on it. The top of the dipper's handle was carved out into a paw.
"How is Damian, by the way?"
"I thought you came here as a friend." Marinette crossed her arms. "It's not my job to keep tabs on your son."
"I know that, my dear, but he doesn't like seeing me . . ."
"Just talk to him." Marinette took a bite of her bread. "You know, the key to being emotionally constipated is to actually let it all out."
Marinette had met Talia al Ghul way before she met Bruce or any of the Waynes. She found out the woman's connection to them much later, however. After becoming guardian and losing Fu to amnesia, Talia had become somewhat of a mentor to her. Someone who taught her more about eccentric skills than magical knowledge and responsibility (the woman was crazy skilled in the most random things, it used to drive Marinette crazy). Since they'd parted aways after she graduated, Marinette saw her more like a troublesome aunt than a teacher.
"He has taken an interest in you, no?" The way her emerald eyes glittered spoke of her slyness.
"Taliaaa," Marinette groaned.
"What? It is very funny how fate brought you two together." She sighed wistfully. "I never saw it coming."
"Do you seriously want me to be with your son just so you can make me your daughter?"
"What's the problem? You like him too, right?"
"Talia!"
She shrugged. "'I'm just saying I'm not opposed to the relationship."
Marinette rubbed her face, hoping to ease off the heat on her cheeks. "I thought you're here to see how I'm doing, not badger me about my love life. You're starting to sound like my mom."
Talia's grin grew wide. "Your mom?"
"Wait, no—"
Talia set her chin on top of her locked hands. "Would you like a League-themed wedding, my dear? Have a little blood pact mixed in?"
"Damian and I aren't even marrying!"
"Yet," the woman added. "I can't wait to have you in the family. I've got the perfect heirlooms to pass on to you. A sword, if you'd like or even a kunai."
"Oh, come on—"
"You have my complete blessing Marinette," she cooed. "In fact, I'd rather have Damian be with no one else but you."
Marinette stood up so quickly, red in the face, and her chair scraped the floor. "I'm going to bed."
Talia reached over to grab her hand. "Leaving your guest all alone! Where are the manners I taught you?"
"I'd actually love to chat if you have something else to talk about," Marinette huffed.
"Alright, alright, sit down. I'll behave myself, I promise." The former mentor smiled. Marinette narrowed her eyes. She should've closed her window that night.
***
After a debate with herself, Marinette decided to voice out her request to Bruce at the time she served coffee and snacks in his office. She was setting down his mug on a coaster when she popped the question: "Mr. Wayne, can I have next Thursday off? I can work on Saturday to make up for it."
Bruce looked up from his screen. "Hm? What for?"
"I've finally decided to let Lois adopt me."
"What?" Marinette had never seen Bruce so panicked. She didn't know if she should laugh or feel sorry for it.
"I'm kidding." She transferred the snacks next from the rolling cart. "Some of my friends are visiting Gotham, but their only free day is on Thursday. I haven't seen them in a while so I really want to catch up."
Bruce slowly regained his composure, clearing his throat. "Right. Of course you can go, Marinette. No need for the extra hours."
". . . Are you sure you'll be fine without me?"
"Yes, we have no meetings scheduled that day, do we?" Bruce waved the thought off. "Enjoy the day off. You deserve it."
***
It was Chloe who got them the reservations for their dinner: an open air chabudai-style restaurant that served Japanese cuisine. The tables were low, comfy enough for them to sit cross-legged on cushions while still keeping elegance.
Marinette sipped on her drink and nudged Luka with her shoulder. "You never told us what you were in Gotham for."
The now world-renowned musician ran a hand through his hair. "Dad's having a tour around the U.S. He wanted to check the venue here since this is the last stop. Our band's opening."
Marinette sucked in a breath. "Congrats, Luka! I didn't know about that, Jagged hasn't put out a commission yet!"
"Planning's still in the works." Luka smiled. "I'm sure Penny will reach out soon."
Adrien groaned and stretched his arms. "I'm so fuullll." He fell on his back, positioning his head on Marinette's lap.
"I told you to lay off on the maki roll," Chloe tsked to which Adrien stuck out a tongue in reply.
Marinette ignored the bickering pair and turned to Kagami. "What about you, Kags? Have you met up with your new student yet?"
"What new student?" asked Adrien.
"You're not reading the group chat, are you?" Chloe scolded.
"It's alright, I only mentioned it in passing." Kagami poured more cups of beer for Luka and Chloe. "A former coach told me about a rising fencing prodigy in Gotham. I wanted to take a look for myself if I can mentor them. Unfortunately there was an emergency at the airport earlier so I'm meeting them tomorrow instead."
Marinette grimaced, distinctly remembering that some Rogues had broken into the airport in the morning.
"Prodigy or not, the kid's gonna be an international level pro if you're the coach, Gami," Adrien pointed out.
"Hm. You have too much faith in me."
"What about you, Maribug? How's work?" Chloe directed her inquisitive gaze at the girl.
"Just the same old." With a little bit of something going on with my boss' son. "My boss still wants to adopt me, everyday's busy, sometimes I get caught up in robberies and hostage situations for a little spice."
"M'lady?" Adrien suddenly said in a soft voice.
Marinette reached down to stroke his hair. "What's up?"
"I think I saw something move behind the trees over there."
Marinette squinted into the dark, past the lantern lights. Familiar . . . shadows moved around, cloaked by the darkness.
"Oh hell no," she whispered. "What the fuck? Those are the Gotham vigilantes."
Adrien's lips shaped into an 'o'. "Ohhh, I think . . . I think they're here because of me."
"What?"
"Well, the small business I asked to do the landscaping for our runway event is Pam and Harley’s," Adrien explained. "I talked to them earlier and they got worried since it's my first time here in Gotham. They offered a security detail even when I said I didn't need any!"
"And that . . . security detail are the vigilantes?" Chloe stared.
"Guess so. Hey, do you think we should offer them some food?" Adrien sat up and waved at the shadows. "Do you think they'll join us?"
"Adrien," Marinette groaned. "Anyone but them."
"What, why?"
***
Meanwhile . . .
"Rob, you've been staring at Marinette and that guy for a long time."
"I am not."
"Are you jealous? She said they're her friends right? They must be really close."
"Tt."
Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @animegirlweeb @fairlyfatale @agentxx92
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3 | in which Jason Todd is saved from a catfish
Part 3 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist
Jason didn't visit the WE building often and he preferred not to anyway. But he had to drop off case files in Bruce's office and receive a lead from the Replacement. He had his phone on one hand, and envelopes in another as he entered the lavish room. Upon finding the space empty, he dropped the files on the desk and ventured outside to ask the assistant.
"Where's Bruce?" His eyes landed on the petite girl, hair neatly tucked in a ponytail and face curled up in concentration.
"Bathroom." Not once did she unglue her gaze from the monitor. "You're chatting with a catfish by the way."
"What?"
"Your phone. Tinder? That match of yours is a catfish."
Jason looked at his phone and then back at her. When did she even see? He'd heard about the girl, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Personal assistant to Bruce for nearly five months already. The Replacement described her as a miracle worker. Dick liked her because she was good with kids. The demon child said she was eccentric. And Bruce? Every time he talked about her, Jason sensed that he had a new potential adoptive sister.
Though witnessing her behavior firsthand . . . Jason wasn't sure what to think.
"How'd you know?" Jason checked his screen—Gail, a stranger he managed to chat up so he could go undercover during their scheduled dinner date. Partly a cover, but partly just to meet someone new.
"It's obvious by how she replies and that profile photo is clearly fake." She shrugged.
"It's not." Jason was starting to have doubts. Was he a 'boomer' with technology after all, because of his death and revival?
She finally looked at him properly, though bearing a very very judgmental gaze that almost made him squirm. "A catfish is—"
"I know what a catfish is," Jason grumbled a bit too hastily.
"I really advise you to reconsider, Mr. Todd. Sooner or later, this possible middle-aged scammer will try to rob you of your money." Marinette lent her attention back to the computer. "Then ghost you."
"What, like you can find me a better partner?"
"For fun or for long-term commitment?"
Jason opened his mouth yet no sound came out. I don't know if she's joking or not.
Marinette spoke again after his lack of reply. "If you're looking to pursue a real relationship, I suggest considering those who are already close to you. But if it's just a fling, I'll be happy to find potential dates according to your preferences."
He frowned. He already invested too much effort and time befriending his match. But his subconscious betrayed him by letting him think of someone when she uttered her first statement. A red-haired someone. Damn it.
He snorted and started to walk away. "Whatever. I can get my own dates, thank you."
Unlocking his phone once again, he started to make a background check on 'Gail' while looking up what 'ghost' meant.
***
Bruce walked up to his assistant's desk. "I just passed Jason and he seemed out of it. Do you know what happened?"
Marinette only glanced at him for a second. "You don't need to know the specifics of it, sir. Let's just say your second son might not be a bachelor for life after all."
"What?"
"Nevermind."
***
The night was chilly and serene for some odd reason. The dry cloudless sky was a blessing for the city, granting it a peaceful ambience despite, still, the crimes occurring into the late hours. A few vehicles hummed on the road, streetlights buzzed while flickering on and off, and shadows of stray animals crept up window ledges.
Although Gotham was quiet, Bruce's heart wasn't. He fucked up. His grappling gun was cracked from a scuffle earlier that night, and the nearest most convenient place to get a spare was his office in WE. He managed to grapple through the window before the tool finally fell apart.
Now, I just need to find it . . . Batman started rummaging through the drawers, opening all the secret compartments he knew. He was certain he'd left it in some hidden nook, separate from where he kept his backup suit and tools.
He found the grappling gun at last, nestled amongst dusty office supplies inside a box. But the second he lifted it, the door creaked open.
"Who's there?!"
He felt the coldest shiver right under his skin.
He completely forgot Marinette was staying in the building for overtime. There she was, brandishing a kitchen knife at him (where did she even get it? The break room?) and if she wasn't menacing before, she certainly looked menacing at that moment.
"Batman?" She narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here? Are you stealing from this office?"
Bruce's eyes slightly widened beneath his cowl. Fuck secret identities. Situations like these were always frustrating. He quickly hid the grappling gun away from her view before saying, "I had something to retrieve from here."
He needed to chant to himself: don't you dare use your soft voice. She doesn't know who you are.
Marinette scoffed. "With Mr. Wayne's agreement?"
"Yes. We had a previous deal. He knows I'm here."
"Oh really?" She reached into her pocket and brought out her phone. "So if I call Mr. Wayne right now to confirm, he's going to agree with you, yes?"
His grip tightened on his only escape plan. If I can just get to the window . . .
"Don't move!" Marinette held the knife out as she called his number. "Or else I'm throwing this knife at you."
Bruce wanted to believe that she wouldn't have the skills to actually hit him with that knife, but a part of him wouldn't take the risk. His assistant's steely eyes were piercing him through the dark, almost reminding him of the times when he missed important appointments she consistently reminded him of.
And of course, the phone continued ringing because his business phone was all the way back in the Manor. After no response, she stepped forward with the weapon still out.
"Since he can't confirm at the moment, I'm keeping you here until the police arrive," she told him.
"You can let me go," he replied. "Bruce Wayne is an associate of mine, I've no other reason for being here."
"You're investigating him, aren't you? You have no right to break into his office!" She scowled. "You're so nosy because of your damned paranoia."
"He helps fund the Justice League. There's no reason for me to investigate him."
"He has no interest in things like that; he already funds most of Gotham."
"Hn. What if I told you this was actually my office?"
Marinette scoffed. "I believe Mr. Wayne has more dignity than dressing up as a bat furry every night to beat people up."
That did it for Bruce. Firstly, his mind went blank at that comment as he wondered how he got an assistant so competent that it was backfiring on his alter ego.
Secondly, he was hearing laughter.
He forgot to turn off his comms.
His hand flew up to his earpiece at lightning speed to turn it off. As a split-second decision, he flicked a Batarang to pin her sleeve to the wall and make her drop the knife, before he shot the grapple and swung out. He was afraid that the longer he stayed there, the higher the chance he'd actually reveal his identity to her.
But when he landed on another building, guilt immediately took over. He turned on his comms again. "Oracle, do you have eyes inside the office?"
A long sigh sounded out from Barbara. "Yes, B, she's a big girl—she freed herself from the Batarang."
He let out an inaudible sigh of relief.
". . . And I saved the video recording of the whole thing." To this, laughter echoed into his ear again.
"Tt. You shouldn't have thrown the Batarang, Father, she wasn't at fault." Damian's voice cracked through. "She heard and intercepted an intruder, albeit in a dangerous manner, and she called to check if what you were saying was true."
"I'm sorry, I panicked," Bruce grumbled. He had to make sure to give her a bonus that month.
#maribat fanfic#dc x mlb#mlb x dc#maribat#maribat fic#maribat marinette dupain cheng#NMWYCAM#PA!Marinette
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Hi, loved the last chapter of NMWYCAM!
But set aside my love for your writing, I just wanted to inform you that it would be more accurate to use "compris" instead of "comprendre" in the middle of the chapter (it's like the difference between "understood" and "understand" but I will pass the explanations)
English do not have has much conjugaison as French but it's quite jarring for native people.
I wish you a great continuation! <3
Ooooh I didn't know that 😅 thanks for pointing that out!!
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Scars like a Red Thread
Marinette Dupain-Cheng hates Damian Wayne with a passion. Firstly because of their shared past, and secondly, because of the scars they had on their hands: a tiny pale line on the skin between their ring and pinky fingers. If one of them dies, the other's scar bleeds and burns as a symbol of their marriage bond. One day, Ladybug dies for the first time at the hands of an akuma.
Heart Eyes
Robin was told time and again that dating fellow heroes was a messy affair, especially if secret identities were still at stake. He didn't believe it until he ended his one-year relationship with Ladybug. After taking some time to heal, Damian becomes enamored with a new girl: a beautiful fashion designer named Marinette.
R for Revenge (DP X MLB)
An encounter with cultists turns Marinette into the first new halfa in decades. With permission from her new guardian, the Ghost King himself, she goes back to Paris to enact her vengeance.
Guardian's Occult
A joint investigation by Marinette and Constantine leads to the transformation of the young guardian into . . . a toddler guardian?! While he tries to find a way to reverse it, Constantine entrusts her to a serial adopter of black-haired blue-eyed children.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Dead
After a recent celebrity scandal, the Wayne family gets tangled up in a cold case from two years ago: the death of a girl from Paris
Anthanassa
The Justice League makes it their mission to intercept a new villainess who appeared in Paris.
Two Immortals (DP x DC x MLB)
See this post
Superbaby
One night fling leads to Marinette having a baby with Kryptonian blood.
#ggomo's prompts#maribat fanfic#dc x mlb#mlb x dc#maribat#maribat fic#maribat marinette dupain cheng#dc x miraculous#dp x mlb#ggomo's polls#yes i included ideas from my previous poll#im so excited mwahahah
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