Peeta Mellark Headcanons (Modern Day Technology!):
I got inspired by a titkok I saw this morning that said Peeta would be obsessed with Minecraft and TikTok, I couldn’t help myself. 🩵
My Masterlist
Minecraft
Peeta’s your biggest fangirl, watching you play video games in awe.
This inevitably leads to introducing minecraft to him… and it’s safe to say he’s addicted!
You both have matching skins.
It starts off with a multiplayer minecraft world, you teach him the basics, laughing when he dies from fall damage.
“It’s not funny!” He pouts.
The first night is actual torture.
You best believe he’ll be shrieking at the mobs.
“HELP ME!”
*breadboy12 was slain by zombie*
(Although he’s a fighter irl I’d imagine him to be a useless defender in minecraft, but at least he tries)
Would sacrifice himself for you if you were under attack.
After the first night he’d ensure to make a house for you both.
He’d cry when a creeper blows it up.
You thought he gave up building until you see a small cottage made of birch and cherry wood the next day.
It’s decorated with a wheat farm and animal pen at the side.
“Do you like our house?” He types in chat, crouching up and down at you.
Would giggle when he places his minecraft bed next to yours.
Has every cat and dog he can find.
He’d totally make an animal sanctuary for them, after you complain they take too much space in the cottage.
Definitely makes a bakery where the price for bread is a kiss (only if it’s from you)
Peeta is definitely the flower gatherer.
Don’t be surprised when Peeta whacks you, throwing your favourite flower onto the ground.
“For you :)” is all he’d say before running away into your shared cottage.
You think his antics are cheesy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. :)
Tiktok
Reposts his entire fyp
Definitely the biggest contributor to his 20+ hour screen time a week.
He’d insist on having a matching pfp with you.
If you say no his pfp would just be his favourite picture of you. “You’re just so pretty baby!”
Apart from bakery accounts you’d be the only person he follows. He doesn’t understand why that makes you so happy.
I’m a firm believer that he wouldn’t indulge in the tiktok thirst traps.
He’d probably block the people making them because the only person he wants to see in that way is you. 🥲
If you posted dancing tiktoks of your own he’d watch it over and over again in awe.
“You look beautiful!” He’d comment. (alongside the other 25+ comments of him admiring you)
Would actually go feral if he saw you make a thirst trap of your own.
His response would totally be: “Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure”. It’s inevitable he becomes victim to the tiktok language at this point, especially when he hears it from you.
Results in Johanna commenting under his comments, telling him to go and touch grass.
He’d get pouty at this, it’s not his fault you’ve got him acting out. :(
A big fan of the “things to do with your partner” videos.
“This reminded me of you”
Would tag you in videos along the lines of “which orange cat am I?”
Leads to a rabbit hole of watching funny cat videos.
His favourites are the cat pov videos, but he equally loves watching animal rescue videos.
He’d stumble across those baby sensory videos (the ones with the vegetables) and unironically be watching them for an hour.
Tiktok would also give him massive baby fever.
“Just the one baby, please!” “Peeta no.”
He’d send you many baby fever videos in hopes it changes your mind.
He’s a sucker for the couple TikTok trends.
“We need to do that together!”
Secretly wants to make a dancing tiktok with you.
Has a private folder full of your reposts, specifically the ones about your special interests so he can educate himself on what you care about.
“No way! I didn’t know you were a Taylor Swift fan!” (his private folder says otherwise) 👀
Results in him becoming obsessed with your special interests.
Peeta would obviously be consumed by breadtok, having thousands of saved videos in his favourites.
You’re no longer surprised when you visit and see his tiktok inspired creations.
“I saw it on tiktok!” He’d beam.
Would definitely start a colony of sourdough after seeing the “100 year old sourdough starter” trend.
Keeps up with the tiktok cake drama (if yk yk)
Scared of the yo ho sea videos (he’d never admit it)
Shits himself when you’re near bodies of water and you start singing it.
However he still watches them to tell you interesting sea facts.
Nobody can convince me that he doesn’t religiously watch the Reddit AITA videos with minecraft parkour or subway surfers in the background.
Gets heated when the person is actually the asshole.
“How could they do that?” “They suck!” “I’d never do that to you baby!”
You laugh, a small smile on your lips because it’s true, he’d never do that to you.
Additional headcanons
Peeta makes a world on the sims, spending hours ensuring you and him look like yourself in real life. In his world you and him are happily married, having multiple babies together and a few pets. He uses the sim world almost as a manifestation of the life he wants with you, as he genuinely sees you both spending the rest of your lives together.
Has a private tumblr account that acts as his diary, he often recalls his day with you, and if that day is particularly good he makes his entries in the same formation as a fan fic (He’s just that whipped) :)
(I’m open for suggestions to make more of these, feedback is appreciated!) This is the first post I’ve made in a few years so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did making it 💗
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It started with a whisper
I originally wrote ‘Like I did with you’ as a one-shot but people wanted a sequel. This turned out to be waaaaay longer than expected (4.7k word count). Inspired by Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I hope you lot enjoy!
Ao3
(Also this is Mari’s new outfit, all credits go to the original artist)
————
Two teens stood upon the balcony of a large banquet hall, exposed to the midsummer night air. The sky was a lilac blanket that hung over the Parisian buildings, speckled with glowing stars. The moon, with it’s crescent smile, beamed down of the young couple.
Hey, baby, won't you look my way?
Marinette’s eyes were closed as she rested her head upon his shoulder, relaxing after the night’s rapid escalation. Tonight she had arrived at the ball with the intent to be there for her friends, but somehow she found herself within the arms of Gotham’s (and probably Paris’) Ice Prince. She had overheard his nickname from the Gotham students, one of which being Jon, who was in the middle of mocking the young Wayne. She had never considered that nickname as suitable; sure he was temperamental & had a tendency to snap, but icey to the core? No.
I can be your new addiction
Damian was calm. For the first time in his life he felt like he could take a breath. His exhale was carried off by a small gust of wind, the bush over hanging the stone railing rustled. With his inhale, the scent of Marinette’s perfume became present once more. Mixed with the crisp night’s air, her usual scent of pastries was mixed with what could only be described as ambrosia. His phone vibrated within his pocket, it was never on volume due to the potential risk it caused during his heroic activities.
“Shit.” Notifications covered his screen, multiple tweets, Instagrams and Tiktoks in which he had been tagged in. But the alert came from his family’s private messaging chat. The whole thread was a shit storm, Grayson and Todd’s messages were completely capitalised (he learnt years ago this meant ‘to yell’ in writing form) and both had multiple ‘keyboard spasms’. Drake, like the thorough detective he is, had combed through the images and videos, investigating their validity. His honorary sisters had replied with ‘awwwww’(s) and ‘Omg we MUST meet this girl! I need to know how she tamed the demon!’. He could practically hear Brown’s shrill voice from across the ocean.
Hey, baby, what you gotta say?
No reply from his father or Alfred. The two of them were the only semblance of ‘normal’ paternal figures he had within his life, after the sham of a relationship he had previously held with his grandfather. Their silence unnerved him.
Marinette had noticed his attention had shifted to his phone, her own mobile was buzzing away within her baby pink purse. Messages, notifications of account tagging and comments galore. A sigh left her lips when she saw her parents seemed to be none the wiser. Good, she didn’t need to deal with future adoration for ‘The boy who swept our daughter off of her feet’ (or something along those lines).
Her cheeks regained some of the warmth they held before as she thought of her parent’s reaction. Scrolling through her Twitter she saw her friends had posted multiple images of the night’s events, majority being her shared dance.
Chloé Bourgeois @TheBestBourgeois
what kind of Disney shit is this? (Insert video of two teens dancing around an mostly empty dance floor.)
Alix Kubdel @Sk8trGirl
Replying to @TheBestBourgeois
I KNOW RIGHT?! THEY WERE FUCKING FLOATING!!!
All you're giving me is fiction
She was thankful that they hadn’t tagged her but she hadn’t been spared by others in attendance. Her post thread had blown up, thousands had commented and even more had viewed the evidence. There was no way she would come out of this unscathed.
“Has anyone been on Twitter today?” The blonde of the family asked as she walked into the dining room. Her eyes focused on her scrolling screen, brows furrowed in confusion. “Actually has anyone seen what’s happening on any of our socials?”
It was early in the afternoon and the family had recently returned home after a straining stakeout. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and the Batfam had to deal with his minions. Dick’s arm was in a sling (sprained from a grapple gone wrong), Jason was icing his hand, Alfred was stitching Bruce’s chest wounds while Tim and the girls escaped without severe injuries. All were still recuperating and finally able to recharge.
Alfred always enforced a strict ‘no devices at the dinner table’ rule; no matter how urgent it was, it could wait until after sustenance was consumed. Tim strongly opposed this, but there was no arguing with Agent A. This all surmises that probably no one had seen the crap storm on social media.
I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time
Bruce sighed, bringing his free arm up to rub his eyes. Tilting his head back to look at Steph, “Who was it this time?” Barbara quickly took out her phone to see what Stephanie was talking about, all the while glancing accusingly at Dick and Jason. Both of whom held up their arms (or in Dick’s case arm), declaring their innocence.
“It wasn’t fucking me!”
“Jason! Language!” Dick shot a glare at Jason and was met with one in return. “It wasn’t me either.”
“Then who-“ Bruce started before being cut off by his most rambunctious daughter.
I found out that everybody talks
Stephanie with a squeal, exclaimed that it was Damian. Visions of what the Wayne brat could have done flashed through the heads of everyone in the room. He had been sent overseas before the quarantines and lockdowns hit. During Damian’s first month in France he had been forced into online schooling and then finally when he got to go to in-person classes he hated it. Described the class as a kindergarten with petty and vindictive toddlers.
Had he broken someone’s arm? Was that person of such importance that it had spread over multiple social media platforms? France’s government had announced on June 15th, that teens were now being inoculated so him having COVID-19 was doubtful. Had he insulted the wrong person? Had he taken over the government? He certainly had the potential.
Everybody talks, everybody talks
What they saw stunned them, even Steph as she watched it for the 7th time. Damian Wayne was dancing. But not only that, he was dancing with a girl.
It started with a whisper
“What is this shit?”
No one verbally objected to Jason’s outburst but he was sent a harsh glare from Alfred, Dick and Bruce. Their focus soon returned to the images and videos before them. Babs’ and Steph’s phones were returned to them as the others ran to grab their own devices. They all met back at the table, comparing the posts and comparing their notes.
I can hear the chitchat
“There’s no way this can be real.”
“Jesus Tim,” Barbara rolls her eyes, “have you seen the amount of posts there are? You’d be an idiot to think otherwise.”
Take me to your love shack
“I’m with Tim, how do we know this isn’t some skit. I mean, Demon Spawn almost looks normal. That’s a matter of concern.” He almost dry heaved when he agreed with Tim. Damian couldn’t be capable of naturally exuding that amount of humanity unless there was something in it for him.
Mamas always gotta backtrack
“I was just saying Babs, that we should check the credibility of these images. For all we know they could be gorilla glued together and trying to get unstuck.” Tim cringed at his own reasoning, he really needed to either sleep (probably not going to happen anytime soon) or find his favourite coffee brand (which had been one of the first to vanish after the covid hoarders appeared).
When everybody talks back
Dick was too busy freaking out and spam messaging the youngest Wayne, to defend Damian’s humanity. The family saw this and followed suit, wanting to get information from the source.
Chat name: Alfred supremacy
BigBird: AHHHHHH DAMIAN!
BigBird: YOU LOOK SO CUTE!!!
BigBird: HAIFJDNDNFI
LittleWing: WTF HAPPENED DEMON SPAWN YOU LOOK ALMOST HUMAN
Babs: who knew the city of love would influence the brat
Blondie: they are so cuteeeeeee!
Blondie: We HAVE to meet her!
Silent-but-deadly: agreed.
Timbo: YO DEMON
Timbo: Apparently the videos are legit
Timbo: are you being blackmailed?
And it just devolved into more chaos from there, fueled by the fact that they saw Damian’s ‘Blood Son’ account appear online before vanishing once more. Dick shrieked, “I FOUND HER ACCOUNT!”
The family gathered around the eldest son, peering over his shoulder to view his iPhone 12max screen. They saw a young girl’s Instagram account. It was locked but they could see her profile pic, the girl had black hair and looked to be if Asian decent. They compared it to the videos but it was hard to see due to the hall’s lighting and the minimised facial features of the pfp. Alfred suggested that they search up her username and see who has tagged her, some might have other photos of her.
After research for awhile, the family began to get frustrated with lack of results.
Hey honey you could be my drug
You could be my new prescription
“Come on!” Jason complained, “What kind of teenage girl doesn’t post her life online?” He ignored the girls glares and went back to researching. How had the account by the name of ‘mariiiiinette’ to managed to prevent the entire Wayne clan from accessing it? Damn Instagram privacy settings. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “We are fucking stupid. Why don’t we just use the Bat-computer? It would be so much fucking easier.”
“It shouldn’t be used for civilian issues-“
Too much could be an overdose
“The girl could be a meta for all we know! We aren’t safe until we know who she is.” Jason points a finger at Tim, his paranoia flared up and even though he would never admit it, Jason would do anything to protect each member of his family (although Bruce is still debatable).
All this trash talk make me itching
Barbara and Tim took their usual positions as Oracle and Red Robin (who had been banned from patrol due to lack of sleep). The rest of the Batfam stood behind them either with arms crossed or still failing at researching.
Oh my my shit
“The account is owned by a girl called Marinette Dupian-Cheng. She is French-Chinese and her parents own a popular bakery. Also if it wasn’t already obvious, she goes to Collège Françoise Dupont, aka Damian’s French school.” Tim begun informing his nosy family, “But this account has been inactive for the past 6 months, which is strange due to her frequent posting schedule before hand. It seems she probably has a second account and this is her old one.”
Everybody talks, everybody talks
“Not only that,” Barbara interrupted. “There are unopened messages from other accounts that accuse her of being a bully. There is a whole Facebook page about this girl and how she has been hurting her old friends, but neither side seems reliable. The so called victims seem to be twisting the truth but there is barely any information about Marinette so we can’t disprove it either.”
“Read out some of the messages.” Bruce took a cup of coffee from Alfred and sipped it.
The main screen of the bat computer displayed a Facebook group with the banner picture being a photo of Marinette. “They are mostly complaints expected of teen girls when there is a girl they don’t like; ‘Marinette is such a know-it-all’, ‘She is constantly insulting Lila’s intelligence’. They go on to talk about how Marinette was briefly expelled from the Collège before being reinstated by the principle for a reason unknown to them.”
Everybody talks too much
“Her school reports up until this year were good. The newest one states, ‘While Marinette is a wonderful and bright student, I encourage her to settle her disagreements outside of class. This seems to only be a recent occurrence and I implore her to go to the guidance council if she is in need of help.’” A beat of silence echoes through the cave, Tim sighed. “Jason’s meta theory could be correct. She could have just recently started exhibiting her abilities and using them to get what she wants.”
“Bruce what do you want to do?”
“We’re going to Paris.”
She opened her eyes to the blaring morning light that streamed through the blinds. Her lashes still painted with mascara that refused to leave. She felt a pang of sorrow when she was removing her makeup and dress last night, she never wanted the night to end. She shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, covering her mouth when she yawned. She greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to get breakfast.
She glanced at her phone and there was the chaos that was started hours ago and it was still occurring. It was the weekend, she wouldn’t need to deal with her classmates until Monday. But she would still have to survive her parent’s interrogation. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother smirking at her.
Everybody talks
“Nadja told me some interesting news about last night.” Marinette held her breath, glaring at the toaster, willing it to hurry up so she could escape. “Well,” Sabine patted her shoulder before rubbing Mari’s back. “I know you didn’t want to go but I hope you had fun.”
With that she exited the kitchen, probably going to help her father in the bakery. The ravenette stared after her, eye widened in shock, jumping when the toaster went off. Buttering her toast she went over the conversation, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had expected a ‘When do I get to meet the oh so famous prince?’ or ‘Should I be expecting a new guest sometime in the near future?’ or at least a ‘Who was that young man, Bǎozàng (宝藏 it means treasure)?’ But she said nothing.
A small smile was plastered upon her face as she changed and went down to help her parents in the bakery. Her father didn’t say anything either, he gave her a knowing smile before continuing to kneed the dough. She sat at the the store front as the cashier whilst her parents were busy making ‘Paris’s Finest Pastries’.
Her musings slowly faded as she was brought back to reality by badly hushed whispers. Two young preteens were by the bread roll casing near the door. She had seen them come in before with their parents, the girls went to the prestigious international school over in the 16th arrondissement. The one with purple hair kept whispering to the brunette, both ‘subtly’ glancing towards her. Using her enhanced hearing she listened in on their conversation.
“That’s her, I swear that’s her in the video.”
The blonde’s face soured likes she sucked on a lemon. “No, it wasn’t good lighting there is no way he would dance with someone like her.”
Everybody talks
Marinette had tough skin but their words had an impact, only a small one due to her defence mechanism of repressing emotions. She stopped listening and went back to drawing in her sketchpad, she was in desperate need of a new school outfit.
The two girls eventually came up to the counter, goods in hand. Marinette rung up and bagged their items (paper because save the turtles sksksk) in a tired daze. A phone was shoved into her face, her eyes barely adjusted to view the screen before the blonde spoke.
“Is this your instagram?” She asked in a tone so snobbish that it should be illegal from a person her age. Marinette finally was able to view the screen that was barely an inch from her face. Her old Instagram ‘mariiiiinette’ was displayed on screen, she hesitantly nodded, gaze flicking back to the two in front of her.
The blonde’s nose scrunched up and the purple goth girl squealed in delight. They soon after left the store, their conversation had devolved into ‘See! I told you’ and ‘Yeah, yeah. You were right.’
Walking to school on Monday, she had finally come down from cloud nine. She still rode the tail end of her high as she rushed along her path to her campus, she wasn’t going to be late but she sure wasn’t going to be early. She had spent the better part of the weekend designing and sewing a brand new outfit. Her new look was composed of a black cropped singlet (L'amour gagne hemmed into it and it’s straps), paired matching peach plaid cropped overshirt and a-line miniskirt. Her hair was down, ballet flats were worn and her makeup was the usual with the added edition of a rose gold eyeshadow.
Even though her face was covered in a black and gold mask, she looked hot.
She reached the campus and the whispers started again, people were still buzzing from Friday night. Her classmates, the majority of her grade and the younger years seemed to gossiping before class about the formal’s events. She couldn’t spot any of her friends or the two Gotham transfers, so she was stuck listening the the chitchat. Why couldn’t she have been late like usual?
Damian had a fowl disposition and it showed in multiple icey glares (and that was before he even reached the collège). His family had made their appearance known in Paris at 1am Sunday morning. He could have used his dorm to escape but his family didn’t have the word ‘privacy’ within their vocabulary. He didn’t want to have to pay for a lock replacement due to his brothers’ (most likely Todd with Drake & Grayson laughing at him) lock picking habit.
The Ice Prince was back with full force. He had just been... influenced by all the other couples. Yes he did respect Dupain-Cheng and he appreciated her company & pleasant conversations. He would struggle to hide a small smile at the memory of the dance, even if he denied himself the happiness of normality, he felt content when reminiscing.
“Ooo the Ice Prince is here, did he have a fight with his princess or something?” The voice seemed to mock him.
“The Disney Magic is gone. The demon is back.”
Everybody talks
At the second jeer he shot a glare at the perpetrator. Jon held his hands up in an ‘I surrender manner’, laughing as he joined Damian at his side. The two entered the school’s large foyer and looked to see if any of the classes were open yet. Sadly they weren’t, before he was wrong and the his class was plain torture but this was truely hell.
He saw Dupain-Cheng sitting alone on the stairs, drawing within her sketchpad. He wondered how a girl like her, who always seemed to be involved in other’s lives (for the better) was ignoring all of the comments about her. She felt his focus centre on her, eyes flicking up to meet his, she provided him with a small wave before continuing to draw.
Jon nudged him with an elbow to his ribs and dragged him off to the side, into the boy’s locker rooms. Jon scowled at the door, “It’s a mad house out there. You’ve heard what some people are saying right?”
“Why would I care about these imbeciles?”
Jon jabbed Damian in the chest, causing the demon to stumble. Green eyes darted from blue eyes to the tan finger. “You care when lies hurt people you care about.”
The day began to rapidly decline once the two dance partners took their seats, next to each other. They had both been placed up the back of the class and them sitting together hadn’t been a problem until now apparently. She wasn’t even safe when the teacher started their lecture, whispers and glances were cast towards them. Once the two got to biology it was better, Ms Mendeleiev was a strict teacher and was able to control the class.
Everybody talks
But the recess came. When the bell rang she slowly started packing up her equipment, Alix and Max (who she shared biology with) waited for her; she watched as the Ice Prince left through the door. She knew she didn’t need to be concerned about her friends joining in with the gossiping, if anything they would dispel people and tell them to ‘Mind their own fucking business’ because this whole situations is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.
She did receive some slight teasing from Alix about being a Disney princess, but Marinette quipped back about the skater’s fairytale story being ‘Pinknette, the Geek and the Beast’. The three met up with the other two of their group, they had just come from geography. Kim was complaining that Argentina was a state in America.
“That’s Arkansas you idiot!” Chloe shrieked, lightly hitting his arm with her white handbag. Max held his head in his hand as he approached, how had his tutoring sessions failed so badly?
Chloe turned to Marinette, a smile forming from her glare. The blonde examined the designer’s clothing, nodding. “You look like you are about to have a hot girl summer.”
Marinette’s face burned, the tips of her ears coated in red. Alix chuckled and nudged her shoulder.
Everybody talks
“Look at her, she is so desperate for his attention that she probably copied those designs.”
“Why do you think he danced with her anyways? Maybe she has something on him? I mean, she forces him to sit next to her in class, who knows what else she has done.”
What. The. Fuck.
Chloe glowered towards Lila’s posy. “We have a fucking seating plan, those cretins-“ She made a motion to storm over but was caught by the ravenette, looking back to Mari, her rage decreased from a boil to a simmer.
“No Chlo. It’s fine, it’s not worth it.”
Everybody talks... back
The group walked out to the school’s front steps, it was a mad house... a mad courtyard? Students sitting on the stairs, on the grass and standing around mingling, all of them now were staring at her. She held her backpack close to her chest (she had swapped her signature coin-bag purse for the pastel pink bag), pretending its a shield. Her friends circled around her becoming an obstacle to prevent their stares. If people were afraid of a scowling Kim then they don’t know the scorn of Chloe or Alix’s bite. And Max, sweet quiet Max.... you better hope he doesn’t have blackmail on you (he probably does), he can dismantle your life with a single anonymous post.
Rushed footsteps approached them. The group was broken apart by a rude Wayne boy, he swept Mari away from the school and the gossip crowds within. Her four friends shouted at him and he kept walking, shooting a glare at them in response. He kept pushing Marinette forward with a hand placed on the small of her back, her backpack was now swung over his other shoulder.
They ended up in her favourite alcove. She had brought him here with the other Gotham transfers for a native’s tour of Paris. It had always been her safe place to be creative.
It started with a whisper (everybody talks, everybody talks)
“My apologises for our rushed departure but you seemed to want to get out of their anyhow.” His gruff tone danced through the silence, his head still peaking around the corner; watching for any unwelcome guests.
“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice almost being carried off by the gentle wind. A genuine smile illustrated upon her face.
“We weren’t able to converse after the events of the other night. I would like to formally apologise once more for my actions causing this adverse reaction. If I had kn-“
“You don’t need to apologise!” She squeaked, hiding her eyes behind her fisted hand. Her shoulders curled inwards as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, a side effect of her common use of her secondary miraculous form: Multimouse.
“I chose to dance with you, you don’t need to apologise for my own actions.”
He stared at her with confusion. He had taken the blame so she wouldn’t need to do so herself; but she had taken it anyways. He had given her an out. Why does she always take the blame, even for things out of her control?
“But if I hadn’t danced with you then you wouldn’t have been the focus of the entire school.”
Marinette stepped forward, her eyes hardened and blazing. “Damian Friday night I went there out of obligation to my friends, I didn’t want to be there. But dancing with you? That was the highlight of my week, probably my month too. I enjoyed our time together.” Her face softened, lips twitched downwards ever so slightly. “I don’t regret anything about that night, but do you?”
He was bad at comfort. Everyone in his family avoided him when they were in need, he plainly didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t visibly upset but he sensed that she is disappointed that he apparently didn’t share the same opinion of the night. The only thing he regretted about that night was letting Jon call him a coward, but then again if he didn’t he never would have danced with Dupa- Marinette.
He picked up her clenched hand, the tension in her body alleviated at his embrace. He remembered how Grayson would apologise to Kor’i or how his father interacted with Ms Kyle. He brought their hands up and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.
And that was when I kissed her (everybody talks, everybody talks)
“I do not regret anything either—“ he cleared his throat, “In fact, I’d appreciate if we would be able to interact more, especially outside of that cesspit.”
Was he...?
It didn’t matter.
She smiled the same dazzling smile she gave him at the dance. She nodded while laughing, “I’d love that.”
Everybody talks
The two stay talking, hidden within their secret alcove for the rest of the day. She texted her parents to say she was with a friend and would be back later that night. Damian didn’t bother texting his family, Marinette knew he had to be back soon due to his dorm’s curfew.
The sun was setting at they walked back together, he did the gentlemanly thing and dropped her off at her bakery door. She could see her mother behind the register inconspicuously looking over at the two of them. Damian’s lips quirked upwards, she was satisfied with his kinda-smile.
He walked back, hands in pockets and a neutral expression upon his face instead of a scowl. He reached his door and took his keys, he found that it was already open. Damn.
His family was splayed out within his two roomed dorm. Todd and Drake were fighting over a place to sit on his bed, whilst his father sat at his desk, watching the commotion. The three of them turned to him as he enter the room, they were the only family members able to attend on short notice; Cain had a ballet audition, Gordon & Brown had concert tickets for tomorrow, Grayson had to take care of Mar’i while Kor’i was on Tamaran and Alfred stayed to ensure no one died during their night time activities.
“We need to talk Damian.” His father stood, leaning onto the desk chair. “The school called and said you had an unexcused absence for half the day. Where were you Damian?”
Damian stared into his father’s eyes. He was fifteen, almost an adult, but was treated like he was ten again.
“I was with a friend.”
“Probably the girl from the dance. Marinette, right?” Todd mocked him. Damian snapped his head in the direction of his bed, glaring at both his brothers.
“That’s what I want to talk about with you Damian. Now I don’t know her personally but from what we’ve discovered through our investigation we have some concerns. What’s happened Damian?”
The youngest Wayne’s glare shifted off of his brothers to the floor, and then finally to his father; his family sitting in wait for his answer. Straightening his posture, his shoulders clicked as he rolled then back. His statement’s tone was sure and steady, “Everybody talks father.”
Everybody talks... back
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