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mochegato · 3 years

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Even the Losers

Chapter 15

Chapter 1 Chapter 14

Possible trigger warning. I mention that sexual assault and worse has happened during some akuma attacks. I don’t describe anything or say who it happened to (it didn’t happen to anyone we know) but wanted to warn readers that it is brought up.

This room really was a ridiculous room, Marinette decided. The dining table was large enough to seat twenty. Who needed a casual dining table that large? Honestly. Not to mention, a dining table that large meant there was more than enough room for Alfred to join them, but he never did.

And bringing the food out on silver trays. Did they do that just because she was here? She kind of hoped it was because the idea of doing it everyday… She looked over to Adrien to roll her eyes at the opulence, but he just went with it like it was completely expected. Marinette shook her head. Damn rich people. She looked up just in time to catch Duke’s eyes. He looked at the silver trays with a pointed look and rolled his eyes. Marinette giggled and nodded back.

“I forgot to ask the other day,” Dick started with a disarming smile. “How did you two meet and when?”

And there it was again. A perfectly normal question. A very common question. A question they would expect to be asked. But there was something off in the way he asked it. Something that just triggered her senses. She could feel a difference in it, like its very existence disrupted the peace of the dinner.

Adrien looked over at her with a broad smile and nodded to her, letting her know she was supposed to answer it. She plastered on a friendly smile. “We met in school, actually.”

“Oh? Maternelle or older?” Dick smiled again, his face perfectly emulating interest in his sister’s friend. Markov would never be able to tell the difference. But Marinette could. He was fishing. She just didn’t know what he was fishing for.

“Older,” she answered curtly.

Dick seemed to get the message that she was not happy and backed off, metaphorically and literally, leaning away from them in his chair. His smooth smile morphed into a mock frown. “Oh that’s a shame. I was hoping for stories or pictures of baby Marinette.”

“Oh, baby Mari was adorable,” Adrien gushed, with a teasing grin to Marinette.

Tim quirked his head to the side. “I thought you said you two didn’t meet until you were older.”

Adrien’s grin widened. “We didn’t. Not until we were in collège and she yelled at me for something I didn’t do.”

“I didn’t yell at you,” Marinette objected in mock offense, slapping his arm. “I informed you that you were a contemptible dirtbag in a harsh tone.”

Jason barked a laugh. “Right, big difference.”

Marinette whirled on him, her serious expression contradicted by her lips trying to quirk up at the corners at his teasing. “There is! It was a quietly harsh tone. There was no yelling.” She turned back to Adrien. “And I apologized for that.”

“Yeah, like years later and not because you wanted to,” he rolled his eyes.

“Only because I couldn’t really talk to you for, like, ever after that,” she groused playfully. She pushed her food around on her plate with a pout.

“Apologies are hard,” Cass nodded in agreement.

Marinette beamed at her. “Yes. Thank you, Cass. See,” she motioned to Cass so Adrien would look, “Cass has my back. She agrees.”

“With what?” Duke laughed.

“Your input is not needed!” Marinette chastised him, trying hard not to laugh. But when Duke cracked up and started laughing hard enough to have him gasping for breath, so did Marinette.

“Okay but…” Tim started after they’d had enough time to recover.

“Oh, right!” Adrien shook his head. “There was an akuma that de-aged people. A mom sad her son was going off to university, so her power was to turn everyone into toddlers again. Marinette got hit pushing me out of the way of the beam. She turned into the cutest, pudgiest, little toddler you’ve ever seen.”

Marinette batted his hands away when he leaned over to pinch her cheeks. He chuckled at Marinette’s pout. “I hated that one. I felt so helpless,” she moaned.

“I loved it,” Adrien smiled. “I got to see all of you guys as babies. Most of you guys knew each other since childhood so you knew what each other looked like. Alya and I were the odd ones out. Plus, no pain.” He looked back to the rest of the family. “That was rare; an akuma that didn’t cause massive amounts of pain or trauma.”

“Were they that bad?” Duke asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer he was going to get back. He had purposefully not looked too hard into akumas precisely because he was afraid of the answer.

Marinette stared intently at her plate in thought, trying to condense the experience into light, dinner topic worthy descriptions because she desperately did not want to discuss akumas tonight… or ever again. The very thought caused shivers down her spine. “They were… most weren’t… didn’t affect…” Her words got cut off as her body froze with realization. Her face scrunched up in pain and she gasped after not having breathed for the last few seconds. She suddenly pushed away from the table and stood up. “I think… I need to leave.”

Bruce stood up at the same time and reached out for her. “Marinette are you okay?” His concern amped up when Cass stood up as well and frowned with concern.

Adrien got to her quicker, gently laying his hands on her arms. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it. We can talk about something else. You talked with M. Fox this morning, right? We can talk about that.”

Marinette shook her head. “I can’t…” she couldn’t finish her sentence, her breath was becoming more ragged the longer she stood there.

“Way to go, Timmy,” Jason groused.

“I didn’t do this!” Tim objected motioning toward Marinette and standing up too. He wasn’t exactly sure what standing up was supposed to accomplish. She didn’t know him and definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with him trying to comfort her. It was more of a show of support. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want to stay sitting like it was nothing.

She looked toward Bruce, her eyes slightly glazed over. “You… you knew. You knew about what happened when I was fourteen… and fifteen… and sixteen. You said you checked in on me frequently, so there’s no way you didn’t know. You knew and you just… rather than admit I was…” She looked down at the floor, her face scrunching further as she tried to reconcile the new information. She backed away more and shook her head, no longer really hearing anything in the room, including Adrien’s loud gasp of realization. “I… I can’t… be here. I have to… I need time to…”

She turned and rushed through the door before anyone could stop her. She could feel herself shutting down and she needed to stop it. She knew she needed to stop letting herself turn numb. She gritted her teeth as her frustration with herself increased. Why couldn’t she just react normally? Nobody else on her team did this. None of their friends reacted this way anymore. What was wrong with her that she did?

And she had to do it there, in front of everyone. She had to do it in front of him. Why couldn’t she hold it together for one freaking dinner? She’s gone through worse. Why couldn’t she just have DEALT with it, like an adult? Now she probably ruined the start of their relationship. He was probably going to hate her. He didn’t want to know about that stuff. He didn’t want to deal with those kinds of problems. Those were her issues, not his.

He wanted a daughter for the press, not a hot mess of insecurities and anxiety. He wanted a happy, light, cheery child. That’s why he sent her away, so that’s who she would become. That’s probably why Dick was trying to ask all those questions, so they could know just what kind of a broken, messed up, embarrassment of a disaster they were taking on with her. They needed to know what to prepare for when the press started getting involved.

Back in the dining room, Jason had gone from laughing, to confused, to concerned, to fucking pissed in a matter of seconds. “What did she go through?” Jason asked through gritted teeth.

Adrien glared at Bruce waiting for him to answer the question. Bruce looked down dejectedly and Adrien scoffed. He didn’t bother ripping his glare away from Bruce when he answered for him. “She means Hawkmoth. She means M. Wayne knew what Hawkmoth was doing and let her stay there when he could have pulled her out at any time. She means he let her stay and get tormented rather than admit she was his daughter.”

“That is not why I didn’t pull her out of Paris,” Bruce insisted weakly.

“I thought the damage done by Hawkmoth was all reversed,” Duke offered.

“Oh, the physical damage was reversed, but the psychological wasn’t. The memories weren’t. Hawkmoth used people’s negative emotions to turn them into monsters, AS YOU KNOW,” he snarled at Bruce. “For years, if you had a bad day, if you got sad, if you grieved, you could end up killing or torturing or raping someone, maybe someone you cared about, maybe someone you loved, maybe more than one.

“Didn’t even have to be something big it could just be… my best friend got akumatized because my father said he couldn’t throw me a party for my birthday. A kid Marinette babysat got akumatized because her mother took away a toy that wasn’t hers, it was Marinette’s actually, so she felt responsible for getting Manon akumatized. Marinette’s best friends, five of them at once, got akumatized because she didn’t want to tell them something private. Like that didn’t wrack her with guilt for years. It didn’t take much to turn you into a nightmare. In fact, one little kid got akumatized several times because he had a nightmare. All it took was one moment of feeling down. If you were lucky, really lucky, you just… stopped feeling… anything.”

Everyone was silent for a few minutes. Adrien’s glare never wavered the entire time. Finally Dick spoke up softly. “And was Marinette… lucky.”

Adrien sneered at Bruce, “Oh, Marinette was very lucky. She only got tortured a few times… per month. She only lost a few limbs. She only got targeted most of the time. She only died four or five times, that she remembers, the actual number is significantly higher. All despite my father targeting her specifically. You know, nothing worth too much concern. She only watched the people she loved get tortured, screaming for her in agony before they died painful deaths a handful of times. She only sometimes still goes completely numb rather than feel things. Not even just bad things, good things too. If it’s too much, she shuts down so she doesn’t expose herself, so Hawkmoth can’t get her, because we needed her. It’s automatic. It’s subconscious. It’s been five years and she still has to fight the instant reaction.”

Bruce finally spoke up apprehensively. God, he really, really didn’t want to know the answer to his next question, but at the same time, he needed to know. “You mentioned akumas could kill, torture, rape… You said Marinette had been tortured and killed. Was she ever…”

Adrien’s face scrunched up in anger and frustration. “You don’t get to ask that,” he screamed. “You didn’t care then, you don’t get to pretend like you care now. You want an answer to your question, you’ll have to ask her yourself, if you have the balls for it. Personally, I don’t think you do. So use your imagination. I guarantee anything you can imagine, can’t even come close to the things she had to live through.”

He looked down for a moment to try to collect himself. When he looked back up it was an icy, coldness that made Tim collapse back into his chair. “So now you need to stop lying to her that you always loved her, you cared at all.”

Damian growled and lunged forward in his chair. “You can’t tell him what he feels. You don’t get to say how he treats one of his children. You aren’t a part of this family.”

Adrien turned his icy glare to Damian. “And she is? Holding her at arm’s length? Keeping her at a distance? Not letting her get too close? Randomly freezing up around her. Keeping family secrets from her. Clamming up as soon as she’s nearby. Sending each other secret looks over her head when you think she won’t see. She’s not stupid. She sees what you’re doing, what you’re all doing, she’s just too nice to point it out, too hopeful you’ll actually accept her one day.” He turned to look at Damian with disgust. “I might not be a part of this thing you call a family, but I am a part of hers.” Damian only put up a semblance of a fight when Cass pulled him back down into his chair with a disappointed look.

“You kept in contact to make yourself feel better not because you cared. Because if you did? If you did, there’s no way you let her stay in Paris when it would have been so easy for you to do something. There’s no way you let her get hurt and killed over and over again just so you didn’t have to admit you were related to her. Nobody who gives even the slightest fuck about anybody, a stranger let alone family, your child, would willingly let them go through that. Lets them live knowing that crying about a stubbed toe could make them into a killer.

“You could have done something, anything and yet you did nothing. You didn’t even try. She wouldn’t have accepted. She… she was the only reason some of us survived and she knew that. She was our hope. She saved us and protected us. Repeatedly. At her own expense. Without her…” he looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was considerably quieter and colder.

“And she knew it. And she took it all on herself. She didn’t even tell most people, anyone but me and one other friend really, what she went through and not even all of it. There’s still things I know she saw but she won’t tell me about. Her own parents didn’t know because she didn’t want them to become akumas, which they’d done before over minor things. So she dealt with it on her own. My father barely ever let me out so I couldn’t be there for her almost ever. So she had nobody. She made sure she didn’t. Because she didn’t want to be the cause of more suffering.

“So she wouldn’t have taken you up on any offers anyway because she’d never abandon the people she cares about.” He looked back up to level Bruce with an icy glare that made him lose his breath. “Guess she gets that from her mother.”

He started to walk away but turned back to the family as he got to the door. “You know, Marinette and I are a lot alike. You can do anything you want to us and we’ll probably apologize to you for inconveniencing you. But you hurt someone we care about? Not even Hell is far enough away for you to hide in.

“So she’ll forgive you. That’s who she is. She will. Hell, she’ll probably come crawling back in a day or two to apologize to you for the scene she created. For making you feel uncomfortable. But I won’t ever forget what you did, what you didn’t do, what you subjected her to. No matter what else you ever do for her, you will not be forgiven.” He stepped closer to Bruce, the ice in his eyes turning darker. “And if you ever treat her like that again, they’ll never find your body.”

Damian scowled and jumped up. “Are you threatening my father?”

Adrien didn’t look at him when he responded, continuing to glare at Bruce with a dark, warped look that even made Damian raise an eyebrow. “I am.” He didn’t even bother slamming the door as he stormed out. As soon as he passed the threshold, he took off sprinting after Marinette. She didn’t have the car keys so she was walking… in Gotham… while she was a target. He cursed and picked up his speed to get to the car.

“B?” Dick asked cautiously.

“No. No, no, no.” He shook his head violently and looked down, trying to steady his ragged breathing. “I asked her parents. I checked. They said she was fine. They said it was okay.” He looked up at Dick with haunted eyes. “I checked. I made sure.”

“Well you didn’t fucking check well enough did you?” Jason growled. “You never asked her.” He threw his napkin on the table and stalked out after Adrien to help comfort Marinette. Duke looked between them for a moment before sprinting after Jason.

The rest of the family looked down at their plates, except Bruce who wasn’t looking at anything. He pushed away from the table and stumbled back to his room, a sudden wave of nausea slamming into his body. Dick opened his mouth a few times only to snap it shut again mutely. Cass frowned but continued eating slowly. This was new information, but it didn’t change who Marinette was to her. It was the same Marinette from earlier in the day. But now she knew more. Maybe they could bond over childhood trauma like she and Stephanie had.

Damian furrowed his brow and scowled at his food, unable to determine how to interpret the new information and blame Marinette for it. She had done it to herself, clearly. She had allowed herself to stay in that situation. Obviously it was her own fault she suffered through that… like he had. Not knowing who to be mad at, he shoved away from the table and went down to the cave to train.

Tim blankly watched him go. This… this was unsalvageable. This was… they’d let her down in so many ways. Him with the gala. Dick with the questioning Adrien. Damian with the accusing her and insulting Adrien. The entire family with the keeping secrets. And Bruce with the… everything. How were they supposed to bring this back? They were worse than his family, his previous family. The Drakes just ignored him. They were actively destroying her.

He took a deep breath and pushed away from the table too. He would go down to the cave but Damian was already there. He wanted to patrol, to actually protect someone, like he hadn’t protected her. He stood up and made his way to the grandfather clock. Fuck Demon Spawn. Let him try to fight him right now. Tim wasn’t in the mood and wouldn’t hold back. Heaven help any rogues out tonight.

Chapter 16

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8 @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - deaged #Throws this at you then cowers in fear

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rendevousz · 3 years

Text

mum?

mother figure!nat x fem!teen!reader

avengers x reader

req by @teenwonder ; i absolutely love the entire teams adoration for reader skfksngnsf its so cute! could i please request one a little more nat based? maybe r treats and loves nat like a mom but nat hadn’t noticed that before, and the whole team is like listing examples of how and why 🥺🥺🥺

summary: the four times you needed nat and the one time she admits that she needed you too.

warnings: blood, a random attack out of nowhere because i'm not creative, inaccurate writing of medical situations because i have no idea how those things work, also let's just pretend bruce was around during iron man 2 when tony still had palladium in his arc reactor, also inaccurate descriptions of palladium effects bcs i just...don't know much about palladium pls forgive me thanks, and idk any hospitals in new york/manhattan or even the states LMAO so uh bear with this, and last but not least, my inability to write good endings

word count: 5426

notes: that's a long ass warning nevertheless pls do enjoy this fic <3

"i'm going now, bye!" you bid the team who were having breakfast together, walking out of the common area.

"bye, cupcake! don't get into trouble, don't do what i'd do and definitely don't do what i wouldn't do." tony advised and you rolled your eyes because tony says that to you every morning before you leave for school.

"wait, don't forget your lunch!" nat stands up from her seat and grabs your lunch that she had packed, from the kitchen island, bringing it over to you. "thanks, nat!" you grabbed it, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

nat smiles at the action, turning around to walk back to her spot on the table, only to find the team staring back at her with knowing looks.

"what?"

"you know, you only need to sign a couple papers and the kid's all yours." tony states matter-of-factly. nat snaps her head towards the man, an incredulous look on her face. "what are you talking about?"

"we all see the longing looks on both your faces. she's dying for you to call her your daughter and you, her mother." clint explains and the others nodded in agreement.

"that's nonsense. she has wanda too," nat reasons, sitting back down. "i'm pretty sure she sees wanda as a sister considering how much she drags wanda with her whenever she's causing trouble around the tower." steve raises his brows at the redhead who was in denial.

"she sees you as her mother, nat. just accept it," wanda tells her, taking a sip from her glass. "really? name me one time she showed it." nat challenges them, not knowing that they've been watching your interactions with her for the longest time.

"you have no idea what you just got yourself into, romanoff," clint chuckles, cracking his neck and knuckles as if preparing for a fight.

"remember new mexico?" he smirks and nat only frowns, trying to remember.

"no!" you screamed, dropping down to the ground. you didn't care that you scraped your knees doing that, the only thing that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of grief engulfing your whole being. tears streamed down your face as you looked at the debris on the ground, the remainder of what used to be standing in front of you; a building. blown up, now in ruins.

clint, bucky and steve watched you break down in front of them, their hearts breaking at the sight in front of them as well as the fact that their teammate had been caught up in the middle of the explosion.

"y/n/n? come on, tony's team called for back up. we gotta go," steve tried to get you to stand up, failing when you kept your ground. you screamed when he tried again and their hearts clenched at the heartbreaking sound.

"we can't just leave her! please, we have to find her," you cried, clinging onto steve's body as he ran his hand up and down your suit-cladded back to soothe you. "y/n/n, we can't. the whole place is in ruins now," he didn't want to say it but he had to. he had to in order to get you to leave. "she's gone."

"she can't be gone! she can't just leave us! we need her! i need her, stevie.." you cried into his chest and he had to control himself so he didn't cry right then and there too.

he looked up to see bucky looking at the two of you guiltily, tapping his wrist to indicate that they were running out of time. steve had no choice but to carry you in his arms, getting you to leave the site against your will. but you were too weak to fight back now. "what am i gonna do without her now, stevie?" you asked quietly.

"we're gonna be okay, y/n/n," he tells you, sitting you down on a chair and settling down next to you as clint flew the jet to your next location. the atmosphere was tense and you could tell everyone, too, was sad about this.

"what if we're not? what if we're not gonna be okay, stevie? i know i won't be." you wiped the tears streaming down your face despite the fact that your face still wasn't drying up any time soon.

"because nat wouldn't want to see us like this. she'll be angry if she sees that we're risking people's lives just because of her." he says truthfully.

"we're landing, guys." clint announces and the team prepared for another round of fighting. steve turns to you, wiping the tears on your face as he made you look up at him. "now let's save some people and make nat proud, yeah?"

you nod at him sadly, preparing your weapons. all of you got out the jet and the second battle of the day begun. boy, were these people unlucky because they were on the receiving end of your fury.

you were busy taking down a group of guards alone when you heard a familiar voice. "y/n, behind you!" and you turned just in time to take down a guard who was aiming at you.

you didn't even have time to register your shock of seeing the redhead because more guards came at you two. you guys fought alongside each other until all the men were taken down.

"nat?" you breathed out. "yes, bub?" she answers as you both carefully walked over the knocked out men. she was taken aback when you slammed into her, hugging her the tightest you ever did since you met her.

"please don't ever do that again." you mumbled into her chest. she was about to ask you what you meant when she heard you sniffling. figuring out it wasn't the appropriate moment to ask, she continued to just hug and comfort you in silence.

"wait, that was why she cried that day? because she thought i was in that building when it blew up?" nat asks after steve finished the story. "i never found out why because she never told me."

"yeah, you should've seen her when the building exploded. completely shattered my heart, dude." clint states, remembering the broken down state you were in that day.

"wait, did you guys not grief over my supposed death then?" nat glares at clint, bucky and steve. "in our defense, they were about to blow up about a hundred people, we didn't have much time to process the whole situation." clint tries to convince his best friend, only to receive a glare again from her.

"alright but just because she cried when she thought i was dead, doesn't mean she sees me as her mum. i'd cry too if any one of you guys died," she states, still in denial.

she did love you like how a mother would love her child. but she didn't want you to feel that she was forcing the title onto you. after all, you had so many other adults around you, who's to say that you saw someone else as a parent figure instead of her? she didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"woman, are you serious?" sam exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. "need i remind you that the girl sacrificed her life for you?"

ii.

"nat, watch out!" you stood right behind her where the man was about to attack her. you gave him a harsh kick to the head and that was all it took for the man to go unconscious.

the redhead turned around, not having enough time to comprehend what had happened before you dropped into her arms. you two were lucky the last of the men had already been taken out.

"bub? what's wrong?"

at this point, you were fully leaning against her. she was holding up your whole weight, hands wrapped around your middle to support you. that was when she felt it. the familiar thick substance on her fingers, leaking from the back of your suit.

her eyes widened, pulling one hand away from you to look at it. red. her breathing picked up as one of her hands felt around your back, finally feeling the handle of a knife sticking out from your back.

your eyes were already drooping by now and she lightly shook you awake, careful to not hurt you. she lowered you down and you were both sat on the floor now.

she presses a finger to her ear and you could hear her voice echo in your ear from your own comms. "can someone come please," she paused, exhaling shakily. "y/n's down."

if it had been any other person, she probably would be bringing them to the jet by now but it was you. she didn't know what came over her but when she saw that you were injured, it was like her whole body shut down. her knees felt weak and she couldn't bring herself to move.

"hey, hey, keep your eyes open. can you do that?" she asked gently and you nodded weakly. "bub, why did you do that?" she cried softly, moving your hair away from your face as you leaned sideways against her. the action caused your face to be smudged by your own blood from her hands but she didn't care as she caressed your cheek.

"he–he was gonna hurt you. i–i couldn't..." you paused a while, the pain getting too much for you to bear. "y/n, don't strain yourself. you need to stay awake," she tells you as tears streamed down her face.

"rather me than you," you whispered. nat's eyes widened at this. "don't say that, bub." she scolds gently.

you smiled weakly at her. "i've grown too dependent on you, nat. it's to the point that i," you coughed and nat worried that you were straining yourself but you continued. "that i'd rather die than live without you. you probably can go on with life without me but i can't without you. i need you, nat." your eyes closed and nat panics, shaking your body.

"y/n?! bub?! stay awake, please, they're coming!" nat cries out loud, holding onto your limp body.

"did we not agree to not mention that to me anymore?" nat glares at sam for bringing that up.

the night of that incident had been one of the worst nights for nat. she sat by your bed all night after you had been treated. she had been the first one you saw after you woke up. she had been the one you broke down in front of after you admitted the full reasoning behind your actions. she had been the one who opened her arms for you to make yourself at home in.

"i'm sorry but you must be blind if you can't see how really she sees you for the past years," bucky states. nat turns to him with a glare. "you don't know what you're talking about."

"oh really? who does she call whenever she has a really bad nightmare?" bucky questions rhetorically with his eyebrows raised.

iii.

"no, please, don't!" you begged, asleep and thrashing around in your bed. quiet whimpers turned into heavy breathing as you plead for your life in your nightmare. "please," you whispered, inhaling and exhaling harshly.

FRIDAY, noticing the amount of distress you were in, alerted the closest person to your room, that being bucky who was returning from a late night trip to the kitchen for some water.

he quickly went into your room, only to see you shivering and thrashing around in your bed. "doll?" he approaches slowly, finding you still asleep, though sweating a lot. nightmare, he realised.

"doll? wake up," he gently shakes you and you immediately jolt awake, breathing heavily as you register what was going on. "it's okay, it was just a nightmare," he soothes you, holding you close as one hand rubbed up and down your back while the other held your head to his chest.

none of that helped as you were still in the same state as you were when you woke up. "are you okay?" he asks, worried. "nat... i need nat.. please i need her," you whimpered, shaking in his hold. you were having trouble breathing.

"FRIDAY, get romanoff."

within minutes, nat arrived, looking panicked and disheveled like she had just woken up, which she just did. "what's wrong?" she asks bucky, approaching you two.

"she was having a nightmare and woke up and i think she's having a panic attack. she asked for you," he informs her and immediately moves away when she approaches, so that she could take his place.

"bub? it's me," you look up to meet natasha's pretty green eyes. "you're okay, bub. can you tell me five thing you can see?"

you looked away from her eyes, looking around your room. "i–i see my book on my nightstand, my lamp, my jacket on the chair, my laptop and the painting on the wall." you told her after some difficulties.

"good, that's good. four things you can feel?"

"i feel the socks on my feet, my fluffy blanket, the pillow i'm leaning on and your hands around me."

she smiles softly at you. "three things you can hear?"

"i hear your voice. a–and the faint noise from the ac and i can also hear bucky's breathing." you look up at the man and he smiles sheepishly at you, standing around awkwardly. you gave him a small smile back.

"two things you can smell?"

"i can smell my own shampoo..and my room's air freshener." you told her more calmly now, feeling the panic attack already going away.

"one thing you want to taste?"

"i wanna taste wanda's blueberry pancakes." you pout and the two adults couldn't help but chuckle. "you can have them in the morning. right now you need to sleep so you can have the energy to devour them tomorrow, okay?" you nod at the woman as she tucks you in.

not long after, you fell asleep. she then presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving with a less worried bucky now. and sure enough, the next morning, wanda made you blueberry pancakes.

"okay, so what? we all need someone to help us through panic attacks?" nat rolls her eyes. "did you miss the part where i came in and tried to help but she specifically asked for you? she needed you, nat."

"guys, i... i love her with my whole heart but she has all of us. i don't wanna make her feel like she's restricted to only one of us. you all love her too," nat reasons.

"yes but she doesn't have anyone to call her mum and frankly, i think you'd be perfect for it." wanda encourages the older woman.

"i—" before she could continue, her phone rang loudly and she thanked whoever it was that called her because now she didn't have to make up excuses about her doubt of becoming your official mother.

iv.

she looks down at the caller id, sighing when it was you, meaning the team had more against her now. of course she didn't mind you calling her, you could call her when she'd be asleep after a mission and she'd still pick up with a smile on her face. but it was the fact that the whole team could see how she softened when she realised it was you who called that bothered her. she really didn't want them to let her have hopes that you'd accept her as your mother.

"bub?" she said into the phone and half the team smirked at her while the other half gave her knowing smiles. "aren't you supposed to be on your way to school?"

"yeah but uh are you busy right now? i um, i need you."

nat immediately stands up, worry etched onto her face and the team frowned at this. "what happened? are you okay?"

"you know how i told happy i wanted to walk to school today? yeah, i just remembered why i don't walk to school anymore."

"what do you mean? what happened? are you hurt? did someone hurt you?" she bombards you with questions out of worry. at this point, the team had also stopped their chatter and teasing looks, equally worried for your well-being.

"yeah, i am. wait, maybe not. i mean, i was just being dramatic but uh, i tripped on who-knows-what and now i have a sprained ankle. i can't walk now so i'm standing in an alley right now so i'm not in the way of people. can you come get me?"

nat sighs in relief, thankful that it wasn't anything that she was thinking of. "you are unbelievable, y/n." she chuckles in disbelief at your clumsiness. "can you tell me where you are? i'll come get you now. i'll have the school know you're not coming today." you told her your location and she immediately leaves after telling the team what happened to you.

you were expecting nat to call again, to tell you she was around the corner but instead you heard a whoosh of air beside your head, followed by a crack sound. your head followed the sound, eyes widening when you saw that a dart had struck the wall beside your head. you looked ahead, trying to see where that came from.

if it hadn't been for your fast reflexes being an avenger for the past few years, you probably wouldn't have ducked in time when another dart came flying right for your head. "what the hell?" you grunted, staying low but still looking around for the source. you squinted when you looked up, the sun blazing but you managed to catch a glimpse of a man on a rooftop nearby. he had blonde hair and was dressed in all black, donning a same coloured mask that covered the bottom half of his face.

"you had one job! how could you miss her twice?!" the blonde hears his colleague hiss in his ear through the earpiece. "i'm sorry! i'm no hawkeye, how was i supposed to get her in one try?!" he scolds back.

"you didn't even get her in two!"

"shut up and just let me work! you're distracting me!"

"hurry because i see the redheaded one nearing the alley. boss'll kill us if he finds out we didn't get her in her vulnerable state."

"i'm trying, i'm trying!" the blonde closes one eye, his sight now locked on your crouched state. he saw you move once you saw him and he cursed under his breath, his weapon following your movements. "she's moving!"

"just take the shot and be done with it! you have to go now!"

and shoot he did. after he shot the dart gun, he immediately fled but it wasn't like you were going to be able to chase him down or anything. a scream left your lips as a dart pierced through your skin, right under your shoulder.

you dropped down to the ground, right in the middle of the alleyway. you cried when you felt the burn in your flesh. you had been stabbed multiple times before with much bigger objects so why did this feel different?

"y/n?! is that you?!" you heard nat's voice yell from a small distance away. "i'm here," you croaked out, feeling your body grow weaker at an alarming rate.

"oh my god, bub, why are you on the ground? it's dirty, c'mon let's get you up. which foot did you sprain?" she places both her hands under your arms, pulling you up on your feet before accidentally dropping you back when you let out a shriek, crying out in pain.

"oh my god, did i hit your ankle? are you okay?" nat assumed that your tear-stained face was because of your sprained ankle but then you wheezed, your eyes drooping the longer she stood there.

your right hand slowly reached across your left shoulder, the butt of the dart sticking out of your skin now in between your shaking fingers. nat's eyes followed your hand movement's, a gasp leaving her lips.

"y/n, what happened?!" she panicked but before she could even get an answer from you, you had already blacked out. her eyes widened, knowing it was the dart because why else would you pass out that quick from a simple penetration in the shoulder. you had dealt with much worse than that and she knew your tolerance level.

she took off your bag, careful to not move the dart. she then placed her hands under your knees and behind your back, easily picking your unconscious body up and rushing back to the tower.

when she arrived, she was met with many confused yet concerned looks from the tower staff, seeing the black widow, rushing in with the youngest avenger unconscious in her arms. they had seen you leave the tower for school about half an hour ago so they knew something must've happened on the way.

"get bruce in the hospital wing. tell him it's urgent." she tells the woman working the front desk, hurrying into the elevator and telling FRIDAY to get her to the floor she so desperately wanted to arrive at quicker. black lines appeared on the left side of your neck, slowly spreading to the right side and she assumed it was from that damned dart in your left shoulder.

"natasha! what's wrong? they said it was an emergency," the doctor spoke in a panicked voice when nat entered, immediately going quiet when he saw you in her arms, neck lined with seemingly black veins.

nat laid you down on the surgery table, frown growing when black lines steadily spread to your arms now. though she was too worried to think, she managed to at least tell bruce what was outwardly wrong with you.

"dart. left shoulder." she blurted, incapable of forming proper sentences now that she had seen more of you. the black lining your skin got her speechless and anxious. bruce got ready with medical gloves, removing the dart from your flesh before analysing the pattern of your skin. it looked familiar.

"FRIDAY, get tony down here. it's urgent."

"bruce, please, what's wrong with her?" she cried, tears now freely streaming down her face. she didn't cry much in front of anyone but when it came to you, you always managed to get her to do just that.

"hey, what's going on? FRIDAY said there was an emergency here, who's hurt?" nat heard tony's panicked voice but she didn't make an effort to reply. her gaze was fixed on only you.

tony's jaw dropped, frowning when he saw you on the bed, upper body covered in black lines. "what the hell happened?!"

tony stepped beside bruce, taking a closer look at your skin. his frown deepened. "wait, it looks like.."

"yeah, looks exactly like when you had palladium instead of vibranium in your arc reactor."

"does that mean—"

"palladium's been running through her veins for about twenty minutes now. FRIDAY, how high is her blood toxicity level?" bruce asks, sampling a drop of your blood from when he took out the dart.

"53% and it is still steadily increasing."

"tony, at the rate it's going, if she's not treated in the next fifteen minutes or so, she'll.." bruce pauses, not wanting to say it out loud.

"no, she just needs lithium dioxide. that's how fury and i cured your palladium poisoning, tony." nat finally speaks.

"SHIELD probably has them but they're all the way in dc. they're not gonna reach here in time," tony states solemnly, reaching over to move your hair out of your face, looking down at you sadly.

but he was immediately pulled aside, nat grabbing his collar and looking him straight in the eyes. "you have your stupid iron suits that can probably travel faster than the speed of sound if you try. you can go down there yourself and get the damn thing. i swear to god, tony, i'm literally going to destroy those stupid suits myself if you don't put them to good use." nat threatens, glaring at the billionaire.

tony's eyes widened, the genius having not thought about nat's idea yet. "yeah, yeah, you're right, i'll go now."

he left immediately and nat approached your bed hesitantly, not wanting to see the black lines making home on the skin on your upper body. "do you think tony'll make it back in time?" she sniffles and bruce's worried frown on his face softened. "of course he will. he won't let anything happen to y/n. we won't let anything happen to y/n." he assured her.

there was nothing they could do now but wait for tony to come back with the lithium dioxide. nat sat beside your bed, hands gingerly grasping one of your own. despite the black staining it, nat held it to her face and her tears rolled past the back of your hand.

bruce decided to give her some privacy, opting to inform the whole team of the situation instead of standing around idly.

nat pulled your hand away from her face, rubbing her thumb over the back of it, crying even more at the sight in front of her. "y/n, please. i've never told you this but i need you." she pauses, breathing in shakily. "i've always needed you and i'll always need you. you can't leave me, please. you said i could go on with life without you but you're so wrong, y/n. you're the reason i'm still here and you're the reason i still want to be here. if you're not here then it's as if i have no reason, no purpose. i need you, y/n. so much more than i'd like to admit. heck, probably much more than you need me. so please, don't leave me. i can't do this without you." nat sobs out, watching the patterns on your skin spreading and growing bolder.

at this point, the whole team had now gathered outside of the room, watching nat cry over you. they wanted so bad to get a closer look at their beloved baby avenger but they respected nat and instead, waited for her to finish talking to you. once she stood up and looked around, bruce knew she was done so he entered, followed by the team.

"status, FRIDAY?" bruce asks, sampling a bit of your blood again. "blood toxicity at 96% now."

the team looked your unconscious body in apprehension, some crying and some worried out of their minds.

"goddamnit! where the hell is stark?!" nat growled. her eyes were now puffy after having spent the last half an hour crying. the team had never seen her lose her cool like this but they figured why.

as if on cue, tony's iron man suit crashed through the windows of the room but he couldn't care less. his main priority was to get to you quickly. in his hand was a silver briefcase that he passed to bruce.

bruce opened the case before wasting no time in plunging the syringe containing lithium dioxide, your supposed cure, into you. immediately, the black patterns on your skin started disappearing. it was slow but noticeable. it started from the tips of your fingers, going up towards your neck.

everyone sighed in relief, and to tony's surprise, nat hugged him tightly. "thank you. you have no idea how much this means to me." she whispers. tony pats her back gently. "hey, i care about her too, okay? of course i'd do this for her. any one of us would."

nat smiles at him when she let him go, turning back to you and almost crying out in joy when your skin had finally turned back to normal. she let the medical assistants set your bed up and handle your sprained ankle before going back to sit by you. the team left her alone with you once again.

it was only about an hour later did you wake up, squinting when bright lights shone down on you. you moved around but you felt hands around your left and you heard a familiar voice.

"and remember when you dragged wanda to pull that prank on me with you and after you did, i grounded you like i was your mum or something?" you hear her chuckle, still not noticing that you've woken up.

"i didn't mind, though. frankly, i don't think i would ever mind if you continued acting like my mother or something," you spoke and she immediately tore her gaze from your hands, looking at you, now wide awake.

"bub!" she hugs you so tightly you didn't think you could breathe. you still returned the hug though, laughing. "i was worried you might still have some palladium in your bloodstream."

"wait, palladium?" you asked her in shock. "yeah, the dart that got you in that alley, it contained palladium. it's highly toxic so we used lithium dioxide to counter it. speaking of the dart, i'm going to find out who did this to you and they're never going to see the light of day for putting us through all of this." nat says, disturbingly calm.

"yeah...you do that," you tell her, slightly scared. "but palladium? in my blood? how cool is that? i had literal metal in my blood! i could've become like tony but like...palladium woman or something." you said excitedly.

"you do know we already have metal in our blood, right bub?" nat questions in amusement. "oh." you say dumbly. "and palladium don't belong in our body and you literally almost died because of it." your mouth opened but no words came out.

"speaking of, can you please not do that again? i really thought i was gonna lose you." she whispers, stroking your hair. "oh yeah, of course. i'll just announce to the whole world to not target the youngest avenger," you joke, smile dropping when nat gave you a stern look.

"nat, being part of the avengers at my age undoubtedly means i'll be a target for the bad people out there, but i don't care because while i get to kick ass, i know all of you have my back when it's my ass that's kicked. and i think that's the best part of being an avenger; the sense of security i get having you amazing people as my teammates." you tell her honestly and she smiles softly.

"oh come here you," she pulls you in for another hug but this time it's better because you could still breathe. you make yourself comfortable, snuggling into her.

"did you mean it?" she asked and you look up at her in confusion. "mean what?"

"when you said you wouldn't mind me acting like your mother."

"of course i do, you're like the mother i never had. i wouldn't even mind you being my actual mother." you say without a second thought, eyes widening when you realised what you had said. you swore under your breath, knowing you've just made it awkward between you two.

"i– really?" despite the teams efforts to make her see the truth, it was much more meaningful when she heard you say it yourself. "y–yeah.." you admit sheepishly.

"then you wouldn't mind if i actually adopted you?" she asks carefully, gauging your reaction. your jaw dropped, eyes going wide once again. "are you serious?!"

"yeah." she smiles at you fondly. "no! of course i won't mind!" you hug her tightly, tears forming in your eyes. you had gone all your life without parents so this was a huge thing for you. not only were you going to finally have a mother, but the most amazing woman you knew was going to be your mother.

"mum?" you tested the title, smiling when she acknowledged it. you were now crying in joy.

"hey, don't cry." she soothes you, running a hand up and down your back. "no, no, i'm just so happy. this is the best day of my life." you tell her. "me too, bub."

you stayed in her arms until you fell back asleep, nat tucking you in before going back to sit down on the chair. she looked down at you fondly.

sure, she was scared of the big step she was about to take with you but she had you with her and she knew that was enough. "i love you, y/n." she whispers, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg @andreasworlsboring101 @cay-writes-fan-fiction514 @teenwonder @sevenmorningstars @fleurlovesbucky

#marvel x teen!reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #bucky barnes x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #avenger!reader

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dessarious · 3 years

Text

What Makes a Family? Pt19

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Bruce was in a state of mild panic. Mild only because he was fairly certain his brain had shut down in protest with all the unexpected information being thrown his way. He tried to focus on one thing at a time but even then the sheer strangeness of it all was overwhelming. Just watching the girls together made his head spin. Cass didn’t relax, ever, but here she was snuggled into Marinette’s side, playing with one of the buttons on her shirt while the two of them communicated in a way he was certain he’d never understand. When he’d told her about Marinette the day before all she said was ‘Oh, that makes sense’, and walked away. How was he supposed to respond to that?

Then there was Marinette herself. Forgetting for a moment that she was apparently using magical artifacts to defend Paris and had gone up against the League already, she was nothing like what he’d expected. Granted his mind had automatically gone to the worst case scenario, but even the less doomsday prophecy version of her in his head was insanely off the mark. First, unlike the rest of his children, she was an adult. Maybe not in age but her maturity was obvious. Even Selina backed down when she insisted. And wasn’t that just a great surprise? His only consultation was that Alfred hadn’t known either. He was going to have to ask Marinette how she’d managed to get Selina to put something back. In his experience once she had her hands on something it was hers. Period.

“Guilt.” He blinked in Marinette in confusion. “Usually when she steals something it’s not a big deal because institutions have insurance to cover things, but since Paris is dealing with a terrorist that feeds on negative emotions, stealing something here is creating targets for him. Harley actually was the one that finally convinced her by talking about the huge mental toll all of this must be taking on the people of Paris.” He was almost certain he hadn’t voiced that question out loud but his shock over that was derailed quickly.

“You know Harley too?” She just offered him a sympathetic smile and that was one more thing to add to the list of things he didn’t expect. She was obviously nurturing, protective, and empathetic. If any of the boys were in her place they’d be laughing at him and storing it for blackmail material later. Every time she sprang something else on him he could tell she was trying to soften the blow even though she felt pressed for time.

“Well, yes.” Her look turned sheepish. “I was a bit overwhelmed at the time so instead of arguing with Selina I may have made a portal to her home and shoved her through it so I didn’t have to worry about Akumas coming after me while I talked to her.” He blinked at her.

“You can make portals from Paris to Gotham?” He had been trying to avoid the whole magic topic until the idea settled a bit more but if this was something anyone who had one of these artifacts could do that was a problem.

“Well no, not me specifically. One of the Miraculous in my charge has the ability. I had been keeping it on me in case I needed to leave Paris to let out negative emotions.” She sounded ashamed and Cass was giving him a look that said he needed to say something. Yeah, because him talking to his children always went so well.

“Everyone needs a break. You’re not shirking your duties by taking care of yourself. I imagine there are grave consequences to more than just yourself if this villain manages to get inside your head so it makes sense for you to do anything in your power to keep that from happening.” She peeked at him, looking for something but he had no idea what, before offering a tense smile.

“Still, I’m sorry for entering Gotham like that. I know how you feel about outsiders. In my defense I had no idea where I was until they told me and I left as soon as Selina agreed to not steal in Paris until I’ve dealt with Hawkmoth.”

“How do you make a portal to somewhere and not know where you are?” The words came out harsh because of his confusion and Cass glared at him. Tikki was the one who ended up answering.

“Kaalki doesn’t need a geographical location to get somewhere. Mari wanted to take Catwoman home so that's where they made the portal. We Kwami aren’t confined by your limited knowledge. In our aspects we have very few limitations.” Well that didn’t sound at all ominous.

“The Kwami themselves aren’t limited but the Miraculous and their holders can create their own barriers. For instance, if you don’t think you can get somewhere without knowing exactly where it is then Kaalki won’t be able to get you there. Your perception of what is and isn’t possible plays a large part in how a Miraculous can be used. I think that’s why Master Fu chose such young holders. He thought we would be more open minded about the possibilities.” There was sadness in her tone but there was also a bite to it. He wanted to ask about it, but given his track record with shoving his foot in his mouth he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Luckily Plagg decided to chime in.

“That may be why he picked Chat Noir but Tikki chose you. We weren’t about to let him pick someone less in harmony with the Miraculous for arbitrary reasons.” Tikki was glaring at Plagg and given the way Marinette shrank in on herself, she didn’t know that.

“So he didn’t want me to be Ladybug?” Tikki sent Plagg one more scathing look before hovering in front of Marinette.

“It wasn’t a matter of want. He felt that you being so in tune with me when we couldn’t find a black cat to match would be a problem we couldn’t overcome. You proved him wrong regardless but we told him he needed to find your real partner and as far as we know he never bothered.” The underlying rage in the Kwami’s tone was impressive if he was being honest. Given he had no idea what the beings were capable of he was glad it wasn’t directed at him.

“He didn’t. I asked him about it when Chat Noir started sitting out fights and he said that they were doing fine with the way things were.” Plagg’s words came out in a growl and Marinette tightened her arms around Cass.

“One more person trying to keep us apart. I have to wonder how much of it is chance rather than fate. Maybe there’s a reason this is happening now.” Marinette sounded less than thrilled with that observation. Cass just gave a hum of agreement. “Either way, focusing on what has happened serves no purpose. I’m the Guardian now and no one will ever separate us again.” There was an edge to her voice that actually had Bruce feeling sorry for any poor soul that tried.

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#bio dad bruce wayne #marinette dupain cheng #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #good dad bruce wayne #MLB DC Crossover

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amonrawya · 3 years

Text

The Greatest Gift of All

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(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)

Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.

Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.

She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.

Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.

Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town.

In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky.

Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.

The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.

A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning.

In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.

Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.

Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.

Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.

Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.

Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.

Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.

So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out.

V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.

She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast.

They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.

She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.

Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.

Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.

He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.

Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief.

It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being.

Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now?

More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?

Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.

So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.

The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.

What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.

His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Time's up.

Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.

"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.

He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."

"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life.

Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.

"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.

"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.

Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."

"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.

What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.

"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."

She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"

"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."

Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.

Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them.

The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-

Zap. A blinding flash of light.

There's someone there.

Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...

All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition.

The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.

Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.

Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.

But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-

"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.

Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."

Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.

Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her.

"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."

He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.

Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.

Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."

He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.

So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.

Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 3 years

Text

Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her.

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered.

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

#jerome velaska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska #gotham #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #cameron monaghan #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader

331 notes · View notes

animebookworm16 · 3 years

Text

Who Are You? - Angst

For @j3ssisam3ss

This is my angst piece for @maribat-angst-fluff-april, prompt 25 Childhood Friends

It was the middle of winter in Gotham when she showed up. A tiny girl everyone guessed to be about three. She never spoke or made a sound, but she often smiled, even on the coldest nights. The little girl would just curl up to whoever had taken her that day and smile. At first the other homeless believed she'd never make it to spring. But the little girl was full of surprises. Not only did she survive the worst of the winter, she thrived once spring arrived.

Everyone knew she had a name, no one knew what it was, but they knew she had one. They also knew she was old enough to know it. Surprisingly, no one ever tried to give her a new name. Sure she got nicknames. More nicknames than a toddler could ever hope to keep track of, but somehow she did.

The little girl grew. As all children must. And the older children and adults always made sure to enunciate whenever she was in the area, hoping to teach her how to speak. They all banded together, like they always do for the especially young kids, and kept her away from the worst of the drugs, gangs, rogues, and the overall darkest parts of Gotham. She grew, and most people started calling her Pixie. Their little fairy caused laughter and mischief wherever she went. Even still she rarely spoke, her words as few and far between as they were, were always impactful to whoever she spoke to.

When Jason Todd started living on the street, everything changed. Pixie stuck to his side like glue. She laughed, she started talking, Pixie acted like the entire five years she had been living around Gotham she had been solely waiting for Jason to show up. The ones who raised her would have felt jilted if it hadn't been for how happy the little girl looked. Two years passed and the two ten-year-olds rarely left each other's sides.

Then Jason stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile and Pixie was finally picked up by CPS.

Pixie had to be strapped down by CPS so that she wouldn't hurt anyone. Luckily for her, a young French couple had been passing by when they saw what they were doing, and demanded to adopt the young girl. CPS didn't want to deal with the girl for much longer and agreed. When Tom and Sabine found out she didn't have a name, they quickly named her Marinette Dupain-Cheng and decided her birthday would be the same day they adopted her.

The newly named Marinette was quickly taken out of Gotham and out of the country as the couple returned to Paris.

She never knew that Jason had been adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Jason was picked up by Batman and quickly adopted by Bruce Wayne. Before long he had taken up the mantle of Robin and was fighting crime. He looked everywhere for his friend but no matter who or where he asked, no one had any idea. As the months passed, Jason lost hope for ever finding Pixie again.

He would never know that she had been picked up by CPS and adopted by a Parisian couple and taken back to Paris.

In Paris, Marinette always appeared happy, and her new parents were always busy but tried to make time for her. Marinette had taken to wandering Paris. She wanted to be familiar with her new city, even if Tom and Sabine didn't always agree with her new habit.

When she started school, Marinette stayed quiet. Friendly, but quiet. This made her a prime target for the mayor's spoiled daughter Chloe. Marinette allowed it to happen and did nothing to change the status quo. three years passed in this way until suddenly Marinette was seated next to an extremely outspoken girl named Alya, who would absolutely not stand for the status quo, so Marinette filled that space, doing what she'd always done since she'd come to Paris molded herself into what everyone around her wanted. The same day she met her new deskmate, and self-proclaimed bestie, Marinette also became one of the two heroes of Paris, fighting an emotional terrorist who thrived on negative emotions (and just being from Gotham made her a prime target). Marinette became Dame Nuit, with her partner Mister Bug.

She listened to everything Plagg told her, especially the warnings and consequences of using the Black Cat Miraculous.

For the next four years, Marinette would fill every mold she was placed in. The hero, the Guardian, the class president, the perfect baker's daughter, everything.

Then the consequences started showing up. Marinette knew she had to wrap up Hawk Moth and Mayura quickly. She started pushing it so much that Mister Bug called her out one night and in a single moment of weakness she told him what was happening. What her Miraculous was doing to her.

Mister Bug immediately wanted her to stop and let him give the Miraculous to someone else, but Dame Nuit shut it down saying that even if she stopped now, the damage was done and nothing would change that. In fact, using the Miraculous, while it had started the process, was actually slowing it down. Mister Bug cried when she told him that.

Together they redoubled their efforts to bring Hawk Moth and Mayura down. Of course, Mister Bug insisted on bringing in more permanent heroes, under the guise of keeping one of the two things Hawk Moth was after out of the fight. Dame Nuit then argued that it should be the Ladybug because it's the one that can fix everything which just left them going in circles. But even still she conceded to his request for more backup.

Within six months, Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur had been stripped of their Miraculous and Paris was free to feel their emotions once more. All the Miraculous were returned and Marinette and Adrien revealed their identities to each other.

Adrien stuck to Marinette's side and became an unofficial brother. He helped her as the build-up of chaos in her soul took a physical manifestation, and began to destroy her

A year after Hawk Moth's defeat Marinette's entire class was granted a trip to Gotham City.

Marinette would have laughed at the irony if she didn't know it would probably be the last place she saw. It was strangely comforting to know that the city that held her most precious memories would also be the place that would hold her last.

In Gotham, Jason grew into a young man. He discovered the woman he thought was his mother wasn't. He tracked down his real mother, then got beaten half to death by the Joker only to be blown up by one of Joker's bombs.

Jason died.

Then Jason was revived by the Lazarus Pits and trained by the League of Shadows. He grew to hate Batman and wanted nothing more than to see the end of the Joker.

Years later, Jason would return to Gotham only to find he had been replaced and that the Joker was still running free, and alive. Jason tried to kill the new Robin, a kid named Tim Drake, Batman, and the Joker. He managed to end none of them.

Bruce convinced Jason to stick around and one thing led to another and Redhood became part of the Batfamily patrol rotation. He doesn't stay in the manor but he does drop in at least once a month for family dinners at Alfred's request. On the weekends, Jason would take Tim out and teach him how to spot a sniper, an assassin, what different guns look like when someone is trying to hide them, and most importantly, how to defuse a bomb. It becomes a bonding time for the two, but Jason still calls Tim 'Replacement' but now as a term of endearment.

He never forgets Pixie and she is one of the few things that kept him sane during the worst of the Pit Madness.

Then Damian shows up and Jason has no idea how to deal with the tiny Demon Spawn. It's rough going for a while but they all found their ways of bonding and before long they are one large dysfunctional family.

When Jason turned eighteen, he, Dick, Tim, and Damian welcomed a French class to Wayne Industries for a week-long tour. And that is where he thought he saw someone he would never see again.

Without his permission, Jason called out to her, "Pixie?" It was barely a whisper, but she heard it.

Her head whipped around and she stared at him, "Jason?"

He wanted to say it was a happy reunion. And it kind of was. They hugged. Her class and his brothers stared. Then the tears started. Pixie was smiling but tears were streaming down her face.

One of the other students came over and asked her in French if she was okay. Pixie shook her head and the blond boy asked if there was somewhere she could rest. Jason offered to show them a room. The three of them sat in a quiet room as Pixie cried. She kept leaning into Jason and he wasn't about to stop her. After who knows how long, Pixie dried her eyes and haltingly told Jason what was going on. She told him, how she'd been adopted and went by Marinette now. How she was dying and no one besides Adrien, the blond, knew. How she probably wouldn't make it out of Gotham.

Jason's first reaction was to want to hurt something. His second was to hold Pixie as close as he could and never let her go. Jason cried.

For the rest of the week everywhere that Pixie went, Jason was close behind. The other Waynes noticed and on the fourth day of their stay, invited Pixie and Adrien to join them for dinner.

There, a not-so-subtle interrogation went down, asking Pixie how she knew Jason. At which point, even Pixie's failing health allowed her to spill so many childhood stories about Jason that even they couldn't resist her knowledge. In return, Jason told Adrien stories he had collected about her as a toddler and little kid. It was the brightest smile Adrien had ever seen on Marinette, and the first real smile Pixie had given Jason all week. He could almost pretend that she wasn't dying.

After dinner Pixie said, "Jason, did I ever tell you about the dream I've had ever since I was a little girl?"

"What dream Pix?"

"I've always wanted to stand at the very top of the Wayne Industries building at dawn, and feel the wind at the top of the world."

"Really?"

Pixie smiled a soft sad smile, "Yeah. Do you think we could do that tomorrow?"

Jason suddenly realized what Pixie was talking about, and had to fight a lump in his throat to answer, "Yeah. Pix. Yeah, we can do that."

Adrien and Pixie stayed the night that night. That morning at about three, Jason woke them up and took them to the top of Wayne Industries. Pixie stood as high up as she possibly could. Adrien and Jason watched her with tears in their eyes. Before long, they were joined by Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin, who all wanted to make sure she wouldn't fall. Jason didn't have the heart to tell them they couldn't stop what was about to happen.

As dawn started to creep up on them, Adrien broke down sobbing, begging Marinette to fight a little longer. When the light hit her head, Marinette closed her eyes and smiled. They all saw her start to fade.

Her hands went first. Like dust. As the light increased so did her fading. Before she faded completely, Pixie walked towards them a peaceful smile on her face. Jason was crying now too. His Pixie looked like a ghost.

And as she faded completely, everyone on that roof heard her say, "My name is Jeanette. It's so nice to meet you!"

#Maribat #Maribat Fluff and Angst April #Platonic jasonette #Angst

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 54

First

~~~

The lady’s watch beeped.

Marinette grinned as she pushed herself off of the couch. She dug into her bag and handed over a wad of cash. “Thanks, Linda.”

“Of course.” She watched the woman count it and then put it in her pocket. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Nah, I’m going to see my better therapist.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Harley lets you give in to unhealthy coping mechanisms, that doesn’t make her better.”

“Lalalalala! Not listening!” Said Marinette, ducking out the door.

“Right! Don’t forget your homework! Five more good things about yourself!”

“Oh nooooooo you’re too far away I can’t hear you!”

Linda groaned. “Ladybug, please.”

She sighed and stopped. She turned around, flashing a small smile. “Fiiiiiine, I’ll do it.”

“And they can’t have anything to do with how you help others.”

Marinette cursed. “I should have kept walking.”

“Too late! Have a good week!”

She spun on her heel and threw a wave over her shoulder. “You too!”

“And tell Red Robin to stop by!”

“Will do!”

She hummed lightly and ducked into an ally. “Spots off,” she said. She opened her jacket pocket and let Tikki fly in. She’d stopped using her purse to hold the kwami a few years back when a guy had attempted to steal it and she’d nearly given away her identity trying to get it back. Besides, she never had to open her pocket, so there was no stress when she was paying for something.

She pulled a normal yoyo from her pocket and started playing with it as she walked out the other side.

Marinette glanced up and grinned as she spotted the familiar yellow and black outfits. Signal, Orphan, and Queen Bee had recently started doing daytime patrols. Crime had dramatically decreased since, and Bruce was more than a little bitter that he hadn’t thought about it.

She gave a tiny wave and grinned when they sent some of their own. Marinette had given up on trying to keep the fact that she was friends with pretty much every vigilante in Gotham a secret. It turns out you don’t have to worry about people coming after you to hurt your powerful friends when they are, in fact, afraid of said powerful friends.

She heard her phone go off in her pocket and grinned. Also, the publicity was amazing for her business. That was also good.

She grinned and opened a portal under herself, dropping into the Siren’s living room.

“Hey, darlin’,” said Harley, who was far too used to this by now to even blink.

“Kid’s here?” Asked a Catwoman from the kitchen.

“No. I was talking to the plants,” said Harley sarcastically.

Poison Ivy glanced up from watering her plants. “Hilarious. But please do, they grow better when you talk to them every day.”

Catwoman sighed. “Whatever. What do you want to eat, kid?”

Marinette plopped down on the couch. “I’m not a kid. I wasn’t even a kid when you met me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!”

“Then why don’t you tell us your identity to prove it?”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Catwoman. “Do I look like I’m under eighteen?”

“Do I look like I’m older than thirty?” Catwoman retorted. When she saw the small smirk forming on Marinette’s face she quickly cut her off: “Don’t answer that.”

She huffed. “Think about it. It’s been ten years, do you really think I was eight when we met?”

“Who knows. Human kids all look the same to me.”

Marinette groaned. “I’m not -- you know what? I don’t care anymore.”

“You do, though,” cooed Harley.

A scowl made its way onto her face. “Whatever. Can I use the misty-thingy?”

Poison Ivy handed it over and Marinette spritzed Catwoman. The woman hissed and batted it away.

“I’m choosing dinner,” she said dangerously as she disappeared to the kitchen.

Marinette fought between the instincts to laugh and curse, handing the spritzer back to Poison Ivy. She rested her head on Harley’s lap and smiled to herself as the woman started to braid her hair.

“We still on for that raid on Sunday?” Asked Poison Ivy.

“Sure. I’ll see if I can get Red Hood to go.”

Harley laughed. “I’m sure Batman wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

“Has that ever stopped him before?”

“True, true.”

Catwoman emerged with what looked like a burnt brick. She dropped a plate of it onto Marinette’s lap.

“Eat up, kid.”

She went a little pale as she stared at the food in front of her.

“Well, you see, about that...” She opened a portal under herself and disappeared.

She heard a click from her earpiece and flicked it on.

“Right, found one. Looks like a normal mugging,” said Jason.

“Location?” Asked Damian.

Jason gave his general area and sighed. “Right. I’m heading in.”

She listened in on the fight as she hopped from rooftop to rooftop.

Ever since Dick had taken up the Batman mantle (Bruce had, for the most part, retired), he’d made a few changes to patrols.

The first thing he’d done was make it mandatory that they communicate when and where they were getting in fights and transmit the audio. There had been the usual amount of backlash that arises when the bats are asked to do something for their own good, but they’d stopped complaining that it wasn’t necessary when Tim had walked into the manor for coffee with a knife sticking out of his side.

(She was pretty sure that he’d done that on purpose, but whatever.)

Next, he’d set up rotations so people actually got sleep some nights. They switched between two teams. The first (and best) was made up of Jason, Marinette, and Damian. The rest of the time it would be Dick, Tim, and -- occasionally -- Bruce. Most criminals opted for nights with the second team. She never could figure out why --.

They heard the click of Jason’s gun and Dick’s voice cut in: “Don’t kill them!”

Jason scoffed. “What’re you gonna do if I do?”

“I… Mari, tell him not to kill them.”

“Jason --,” she began.

“I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“-- is a grown adult who can make his own decisions.”

She could practically feel Jason’s smirk as Dick cursed.

“Damn, why are you so easy to buy? I’ll... um…”

Bruce cut in: “I’ll build a starbucks in the room next to yours.”

Her eyes widened. “Jason, if you pull that trigger I will never talk to you again.”

“You wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

“Try me.”

There was a short silence and then the click of a safety turning back on. Jason mumbled about how it wasn’t fair, along with a lot of other colorful things.

Marinette, however, was grinning.

She slipped into the house and yawned.

Damian looked up from where he was petting Chaton on the couch.

She raised her eyebrows. “Not even gonna detransform?”

He sunk into his hooded jacket. “It’s comfy.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Whatever, give me my cat back.”

“He’s our cat.”

She huffed. “He’s my cat. Give him back.”

“Why don’t we let him choose?”

She scoffed lightly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not while you’re still Kitten.”

“I told you to call me BatCat!”

“And I told you that I’d rather you beat me to death with a spoon.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and detransformed. They set the cat between the two of them and made cooing noises.

Chaton went to Damian without even sparing her a glance.

“Traitor,” she murmured.

Both of their phones went off and they checked them.

Ah. The Thesmartones chat. It included Riddler and every bat except for Dick

The partners both groaned and opened the chat.

Riddleboye: Can one of you test my new escape room?

Her phone blew up and she glanced at the different chat. Whohastodoriddlersriddlethistime.

Queenbee: Not it

Therealdamianwayne: Not it.

Bruecbrucewayne: not it

Redhoodiewastaken: not it :)

Brucesfavorite: not it

Coffeeismygirlfriendmarinetteismywife: Not it!

Imsurroundedbyidiots: Not it

She groaned when she realized she was the only one who hadn’t done it yet.

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: i hate you all

Damian had the audacity to laugh. She sent him a tiny glare and kicked him in the side. He cursed and she was only saved from his wrath by the cat currently resting on his stomach.

She went back to the original chat.

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: im free monday night

Riddleboye: Thanks!

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: its fine see you then

She raised her eyebrows as she stepped into the room and saw Tim awake, clicking away at his laptop. This wasn’t exactly new (far from it, really) but it was still sometimes, somehow, surprising.

She changed into her now well-worn hoodie and crawled into bed. She picked up her newest project, a new costume for Red Hood, and started stitching.

He wrapped an arm around her and drew her close so he could type.

She rested her head against his chest. She stitched in time with his heartbeat.

Her eyes glanced over his screen and she sighed lightly. “No information yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, still don’t know how to help lower his cortisol levels back to normal. There’s nothing on it.”

“Yeah, it’s almost as if no one else on Earth has Scarecrow’s problem.”

This earned an eye roll. He closed the many tabs on cortisol inhibitors and pulled up a spreadsheet for work. “It’s always ‘reduce stress!’ and ‘take fish oil!’ and other things that we’ve already tried.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing else we can do. We just have to hope that his therapist can help him work through it.” She blinked. “That reminds me: Linda said that you need to see her.”

“But I don’t have to see her again until Wednesday!”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Thurs -- actually…” She checked her phone. “Friday. It’s Friday.”

Tim cursed. “So, that’s what I forgot.”

“What, the week day or the therapy session?”

“Both.”

She rolled her eyes.

He pulled away slightly for a second to grab his drink and then handed her a coffee. “Behold. Just the way you like it.”

A blush rose to her cheeks as she took it from him. “Oh, sweetie, you shouldn’t have!”

“Don’t worry about it. I was already making some for myself and yours isn’t hard to make.”

She grinned. “It’s going to be easier to get from now on. I told you I could get Bruce to buy us a coffee shop.”

He huffed and rested his chin atop her head. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent.” She teased. “Anyways, I think I’ve achieved favorite kid status.”

Tim laughed. “Please, bean. You’re not even his favorite daughter. Remember that time he bought Cass an entire police station’s equipment?”

She rolled her eyes and set down her project so she could cross her arms over her chest. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face.

She laughed and tipped her head back to press a kiss to his lips. “I’ve decided I’m getting a divorce.”

He finally set his computer down, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. “You wouldn’t. You love me.”

She smiled and reached up, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “I do.”

Marinette pulled him down for another kiss.

~~~

Holy shit. It’s over.

Right, I’m going to get sappy for a minute so if you don’t want that then I would like to just thank you for reading! You can stick around if you’d like and if not then I hope you have a good life! <3

Okay, now for the emotions stuff.

For context, I’ve been writing a book for the better part of three years. Writing a book is... hard. Shocking, I know. But, in all seriousness, I’m not even halfway through.

I was getting really burned out on writing, and one of my creator friends suggested I do a ‘break project’. I didn’t want to jump into another book but I wanted to keep writing, so I said ‘fuck it I’ll go back to my roots fanfiction it is’.

I’d been reading a lot of Daminette lately, so I decided to put my own spin on the ship and write a cute fluffy fanfiction of around 30k words. Ha.

But, seriously, this project has been really therapeutic for me. It’s showed me that I can actually write a decent story, that people enjoy my writing, that I don’t need to go back and change things constantly...

This was kind of supposed to be a one-time thing and then I was going to disappear, but I found myself actually enjoying writing fanfiction.

I don’t know.

The plan is now to continue. I have another fic that I’m currently plotting out. It won’t be daily uploads, because each ‘chapter’ is going to be an arc in itself and I don’t want to rush that. I’m not going to give too much of it away, but it’s another mlb x dcu crossover so stick around if you want some of that.

Since I’m still in the planning phase and all the chapters are going to take ages, I’m opening up requests. Feel free to submit a prompt. Or ask me questions if you’d like. I’ll answer in 2-3 business months.

With love,

‘Olivia’

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper @cute-angi @blu-raydisc

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #satisfied #maribat #red robin

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Part 1

After the Discovery, things didn’t change as much as everyone thought they might. “Everyone” being just Marinette, of course.

She got a lecture from Lois about worrying her, and then a joke from the older woman about no longer having another non-hero in the house to team up with.

“Wait, Dad,” Jon spoke up after that comment from his mom, bobbing up and down on his heels. Both him and Clark had long since changed out of their costumes, which didn’t take long considering both of them having super speed. “Does this mean Mari can meet Damian? And is she going to join a hero team—“

“I already have a team, Jon,” Marinette interrupted, soft but firm at the same time. Two months was more than long enough to know that Jon could talk forever if he was allowed to. “Chat Noir, Viperion, Bunnyx, and Ryuuko are all Miraculous users like me,” she had already sat down and explained the bare basics of her abilities and the Paris situation. Lois had known better than to scold her, no matter how gentle the scolding was, before Marinette had a chance to say anything.

Clark blinked, looking between both of his kids. And yes, Marinette was well and truly one of his kids already. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “She can meet Damian when school starts back up again, Jon. We don’t want to rush anything,” he started out by telling his son. Marinette was still very jittery. Two months was nowhere near enough time to recover from the trauma of watching your parents die, after all.

(In fact, Clark thought, for some people not even a lifetime was long enough. Batman briefly came to mind as an example.)

The girl still had nightmares almost daily, and panic attacks that resulted in brief spans of mutism at least once a week. Those, at least, had severely decreased in frequency, but it was clear that she was far from ready to meet very many new people. Especially people like Damian Wayne, who was hard enough for someone in perfect mental health to handle even on a good day.

“And Marinette,” Clark switched over to his pseudo-daughter. “If you have that many teammates, surely they would understand that you need a break,” when Marinette didn’t meet his eyes, Clark felt dread build up in his stomach. “Marinette, they know about your parents, right?”

The girl fidgeted. Clark closed his eyes.

“Nobody knows my identity,” She admitted after a tense silence. “I know everyone else’s, even though I only found out Chat’s by accident. But they don’t know mine, and I can’t ask them to give me time off anyway.”

“Why not, honey?” Lois asked as gently as she could, picking up on the beginning signs of Marinette closing herself off. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything any of them could do to stop it. Marinette refused to meet any of their eyes, and even before she spoke her new family knew that they wouldn’t get anything else meaningful out of her about the Paris situation, at least for the day.

“They need me.”

Clark and Jon traded a look. That statement felt a bit too familiar for them. It was something they heard from a lot of heroes who tried to justify overworking themselves. It was something both of them had said before.

But they let the topic rest for the night. Pushing Marinette wouldn’t do any good for anybody.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed. Lois and Clark were sitting on the couch watching TV when Lois caught her husband’s eyes darting up to the ceiling. Sighing, she turned the volume down a few notches.

“Did she leave for Paris again?” She asked even though she already knew the answer. Clark nodded grimly.

“Yesterday she didn’t get back in until almost four in the morning,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “And now, it’s already eleven and she’s just now heading out. I know she doesn’t want me or Jon going to Paris because of Hawkmoth’s magic, but…” he trailed off with his mouth set in a deep frown. Lois could only sigh and lean against his arm comfortingly.

“I know,” she breathed quietly.

“She can’t keep working herself to the bone like this, Lois. Sometimes she’ll head right over to Paris after a nightmare, like she needs to remind herself of something, but she always comes back in less than an hour in that case. But this— when she leaves to fight HawkMoth or patrol Paris before ever going to sleep in the first place— it’s like she’s trying to avoid the nightmares by overworking herself too much to even dream.”

“I know,” Lois rubbed a hand on Clark’s back in gentle circles.

“It reminds me of Batman sometimes,” Clark said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic defeat. “Marinette doesn’t get violent like Bruce, but… never sleeping, throwing herself into heroism, she even refers to Ladybug as if they are different people, Lois. I can’t always help Bruce since he’s a grown adult and more than capable of shutting me out when he wants to, but Marinette is our kid now. I’m just not sure how to help her.”

Lois took a deep breath. “Well, she’s not Bruce so you can’t just bait her into a spar to sort out her feelings,” she mused with faint humor. “But how about we start with sending Jon to Paris the next time you guys hear her leave? The sooner we figure out exactly what the situation and her relationship with her team is like, then maybe the sooner we can find some answers.”

Clark nodded, and looked back up to the ceiling. “I know you heard that, Jon. Don’t get in the way, and come back if Marinette finds you and tells you to. We don’t want her to think we don’t trust her.”

A beat passed, and Clark rolled his eyes fondly.

“Don’t forget to go to bed as soon as she gets back, Jon. I don’t want to deal with two overly exhausted children.”

A thump.

“I’m sixteen!” Jon yelled back, clearly for Lois’s benefit as his mom let out a short burst of laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!” “Woo! Go ladybug!” “Could you beat this guy extra fast, Ladybug? I’m late for a meeting!”

People in the streets were shouting in French happily, pointing up at their resident spotted heroine. Some people groused at her in mild or fond annoyance, asking her to beat the Akuma-of-the-day a bit faster for various reasons or jokingly calling her a slow poke. Most people just got pictures or videos on their phones of her as best as they could, watching her swing by in awe and admiration.

It was familiar. Too, too familiar, and Jon made sure to get it all on camera. His parents would want to see this. The pair of contacts he was wearing, a gift from Red Robin, translated everything that was being said for him into helpful little English subtitles.

And there was his sister. Marinette had been tough to pin down, and this was Jon’s third time trying to follow her in Paris. The first time, the day after that late night discussion between his parents, ended in less than five minutes. Marinette caught him and sent him home firmly, which was followed by a heart-to-heart with all four of them when she got home.

She still refused to tell them anything more than the basics about Paris’s situation. For some reason, she seemed extremely reluctant to talk about it. She had no problem comparing experiences and hero jokes with him and his dad, but the moment they tried to talk about Paris-specifics, Marinette clammed up.

It was the second of Jon’s attempts to follow Marinette, just a week after the first, that brought up a possible reason. Because Jon had watched a civilian that he hadn’t been able to get to in time get pinned under a thrown car and killed—only for Ladybug’s powers to reverse all the damage and bring the man back to life.

Jon had raced back home right after that, not even giving Marinette the chance to see him. After relaying what had happened to his parents, they all agreed to one last tail. The pieces were already falling together, and none of them liked the picture they were painting. They wanted to confront Marinette as soon as possible. So here he was, another week later.

Jon kept recording throughout the fight, watching as Marinette clearly led her team. There was no mistaking that all her teammates respected her and treated her word as law. Even Chat Noir, who was Ladybug’s deputy, always referred to Ladybug’s opinion before issuing any orders. Civilians didn’t always flee the scene, taking their time as they tried to record the fight. And when the Akuma was beaten and only Ladybug made a move to catch the corrupted butterfly, the final pieces clicked into place. Jon managed to stay still long enough to catch the crowd of fans running forward, trying to mob Ladybug with pleas for autographs or statements or interviews, before he left. Ladybug’s team had acted as a buffer between her and the crowd anyway, so Jon was able to leave with a clear conscience.

When he walked into his house, already changed back into normal clothes, he waved his phone with a serious look on his face as both his parents waited anxiously.

“Yeah. This is pretty bad,” Jon warned them as he hooked his phone up to his laptop, and played the footage for them.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette got home, it was to a clear intervention. Nervously detransforming, she looked to Tikki and back to her new family. The Kwami, who had previously just been explained away as the source of her powers, gently nudged the girl forward. She knew her holder needed this.

Clark and Lois gently explained why they asked Jon to follow her, explaining that they were all concerned about how badly she was overworking herself.

“You’re getting only three hours of sleep, and that’s on the days that you wake up with nightmares,” Clark’s

voice was quiet, begging her to listen. “Every other day, you teleport to what I can only hope is Paris every time, and you don’t come back for hours. Even if you spend that whole time fighting Akumas, you still only get an hour’s worth of sleep maximum when you get back. Sometimes you don’t even sleep at all until you collapse of exhaustion,” he leaned forward over the table, worry etched in every line on his face. “Marinette, we’re worried. We wanted Jon to see what the situation in Paris was like, because we thought that maybe it would explain why you seem to care about it more than your health. We didn’t know if it was just you needing to keep busy, or something else.”

“And you’re gone during the day too,” Lois added. “And we get that. HawkMoth attacks whenever he feels like, and we all understand if you have to disappear at odd times to fight his Akumas. But this is more than that, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s hands were clenched into fists, and tears were starting to bubble up in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Jon slowly approached her, waiting for her small nod before laying one of his larger hands over her fists and gently prying them open before she hurt herself. He kept his hands there, holding hers for both of their comfort.

“I took a video, today,” he admitted gently. “Dad already erased it from the laptop and my phone, don’t worry. But they— we all— needed to see it. The way Paris treats you, Marinette—“

“It’s like how Metropolis used to treat Superman. How they sometimes still do,” Lois interrupted, trying to get Marinette to meet her eyes. “We all thought that Superman showing up was the end of our problems. That as soon as he showed up, the villain or criminal or whatever that was causing us problems was done for. That he could save everyone,” Lois’s eyes grew melancholy. “But we had to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, no matter how much he might seem like he is. We had to learn the hard way that nobody, no matter how strong or how many powers they have, can save everyone. The kind of trust we had in him before is toxic, Marinette. It’s toxic to us, because we stop being as careful as we should be if we think he’s always going to catch us. And it’s toxic to him, too.”

“How?” Marinette asked, her voice impossibly tiny and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she darted her eyes between them. “They need someone to believe in. They— I make them feel safe. I— isn’t that good?”

“You feel like it’s your job to be there no matter what, right?” Clark asked, meeting her gaze with a warm, but firm one of his own. “That you have to do whatever it takes to win every battle, no matter what it costs you, because they believe you will. You start feeling like everyone you don’t save is your fault. And that’s not okay,” he stood up and Jon slowly backed away, allowing their father to kneel by Marinette and clasp one of her shoulders. “It always hurts. You might never forget the faces of the people you can’t save, but it isn’t your fault. You told me and Jon that you don’t blame us for what happened to your parents, that it’s stupid to blame the hero for something that wouldn’t have happened if the villain didn’t attack in the first place,” his grip tightened slightly, trying to offer comfort when Marinette tended at the mention of her parents. “If you don’t blame us, even though we were the ones in costume and fighting that day, then you need to stop blaming yourself too.”

The tears finally overflowed, salty water trickling down Marinette’s cheeks and sloppy sobs ripping themselves from her throat even as she threw herself into Clark’s chest. He hugged her tightly, letting her cry.

“B-b-But,” Marinette stuttered in between hiccuping sobs. “My powers reverse damage, m-my powers bring people back,” she sniffed, burying her face deeper into Clark’s chest. “I wanted t-to help. I-I was. S-s-So close to tr-transforming and fighting with y-you, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, so I c-couldn’t bring them b-back. I should have been tr-transformed, th-that way they would be—“

“Shh,” Clark whispered gently, rocking her in his arms. “It’s not your fault. Metropolis wasn’t your city. You were protecting your identity, and that was the right choice.”

“But—!”

“No, Marinette,” Clark interrupted, holding her just a little tighter as she continued to tremble and sob. “If you had transformed, someone would have figured it out. A French class comes to Metropolis, and one of their students mysteriously disappears at the same time that a French hero shows up in America for the first time? Maybe you could have brought them back, but none of you would have been safe. Our villains, the villains of Metropolis, of the League, they would have suddenly known about you and might have researched Paris. Maybe HawkMoth would have gained a new ally, or maybe a villain would attack you just because you’re a new hero to target,” Clark sighed, rubbing his hand gently over Marinette’s back as her sobs quieted into a few hiccups and sniffles. She was listening. That was a good sign. “So yes, maybe you would have been able to save them that once, but you could also have opened up a new can of worms that you might not have been able to handle. Things could have gotten worse, and Jon and I wouldn’t have even known to help you. You would have continued to shoulder everything on your own, but you don’t have to. You did your best, and your parent’s deaths aren’t your fault. And you have Jon and I now, and your team even if they don’t know who you are. You can rely on us a little. If you keep going on like this, though, you’re going to kill yourself Marinette,” this time his grip tightened for a whole different reason and Clark buried his face in Marinette’s loose hair. Even after only almost three months, the thought of losing her made him breathless. She was his daughter, even if not by blood, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting herself like this.

“Please, Mari,” That was Jon, who had knelt down by their side and joined the hug. “Let us help you. I promise we’re not incompetent heroes.”

Marinette’s laugh was watery, and hysteric. She accepted a tissue from Lois, who was suddenly sitting down only a foot away from the three’s group hug. After a good nose-blow, Marinette took a deep breath.

“Maybe now’s a good time to give them a proper explanation, Marinette,” Tikki said as she floated down to land on her wielder’s head, giving her the best hug she could. Marinette gave another wet chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree,” she took a deep breath. “But it’s a long story.”

“Not a problem,” Lois assured the girl as she forced herself up and stretched her arms out. “I’ll get the extra pillows and blankets. We can relax on the floor and have story time, and then binge watch movies and have a sleepover in the living room. Clark, could you be a dear and move the couch out of the way?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You have a rule against killing, dear,” Lois whispered groggily from where she was laying against Clark’s side. Marinette was sprawled in between him and Jon, safely in their cuddle-cocoon. Both of their kids were deep asleep. Clark grunted.

“Yeah, but he put so much responsibility on kids, Lo. Kids,” he whispered back, turning his head to try and lessen the chance of waking up Jon. “And he didn’t offer them any support for almost a year, made them figure out the whole hero thing and their powers on their own,” the clearing of a tiny throat made Clark stifle a snort. “With their Kwami,” he whispered, quietly appeasing the eavesdropping Tikki who was laying on Marinette’s chest pretending to sleep. “But a god isn’t exactly a replacement for an actual hero mentor, you know,” he shot at her, making the tiny goddess shrug in acquiescence. “And making her Guardian— he basically threw all his responsibilities onto kids, and ran away. And now Marinette has to heal from all the unrealistic expectations she gave herself. So forgive me if I’m entertaining a few more violent daydreams than usual.”

Lois patted his arm and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will be just as violent and gratifying to imagine in the morning. Go to sleep, Smallville.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was another two and a half weeks before Marinette met Damian Wayne for the first time. She looked from the fellow teenager in a perfectly-pressed uniform and then over to her brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Does he fly in on a helicopter every day?” She asked him incredulously, making Jon grin and nod. She looked back over at Damian, who was clearly annoyed at her for speaking about him when he was right there. “I will never understand rich people.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And I will never understand simpletons. Kent, who is your friend?” He practically spat the last word, making the inner bully-detector in Marinette go off. Her interactions with Chloe and Lila kicked in, and sparked her old habits. Marinette flashed a bright smile, stepping in front of Jon before he could say a word and holding out her hand to Damian. Clark, who was talking to Bruce nearby, out his hand over his mouth to hide a snort. Bruce raised his eyebrows, paying close attention to the interaction now.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Clark and Lois took me in a few months ago, and they said I’m already family. That means that I’m Jon’s sister now, which means that it’s my job to keep him away from bad influences. My hobbies include annoying bullies and not being a welcome mat. How are you?”

Damian blinked once. Twice, and then took her hand and shook it firmly even as a smirk spread itself over his lips.

“Damian Wayne,” he replied easily. “And I apologize for assuming you were a simpleton. I think we can tolerate each other just fine.”

As Marinette and Damian kept trading sarcastic quips with one another that got steadily less passive-aggressive as time went on (with Jon watching in dismay as somehow Marinette seemed to get along? With Damian? And they were scheming? This couldn’t end well.), Clark and Bruce watched the kids walk into their school building.

A moment of silence stretched, before Bruce finally caved and asked; “Took her in?”

Clark grinned slightly, knowing Bruce never would have been able to resist sating his curiosity over the new girl in his care.

“Lois and I practically adopted her. Technically her paternal grandmother has custody and only gave her to us to take care of while she recovers from her grief in a different country, but that’s only because trying to adopt her without being French citizens would have been almost impossible.”

“Grief?” Bruce’s eyebrows pulled down, and Clark’s smile grew somber.

“Remember the attack in late May, back in Metropolis? The one that actually had the first fatalities in months?” Bruce’s face went slack in realization, followed closely by his eyes snapping to the school’s doors. Clark nodded. “Looks like your penchant for adopting black-haired, blue-eyed orphans is contagious. She was scraping the skin off her hands and giving herself burns trying to dig them out of the rubble. When Jon and I realized that they were both of her parents, I had Lois look into her to make sure she had family to take care of her,” Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The options were a grandmother who never stops traveling or a great uncle she barely knows who only speaks Mandarin when she doesn’t. So we pulled a few strings, and now she’s a Kent in all but name.”

“I hope Damian can avoid saying the wrong thing for at least a day before I talk to him later,” Bruce said with a sigh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least she seems to have won his respect pretty quickly.”

Clark laughed. “Oh yeah, she tends to do that. No offense or anything Bruce, but I think it’s a good thing we were the ones that adopted her before you got the chance,” he turned and smiled at his old friend. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Marinette. She’s closer to a Super than a Bat.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron

Part 3

This. Was. Supposed. To be. Fluffy. Damn it. But oh well, natural story progression calls for more hurt and comfort I guess? Maybe one part left in this story I think.

#marinette joins the kent family #jon kent and marinette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #platonic jonette #daminette #if you squint #pre daminette #Marinette Kent

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danny-chase · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (Comics), Nightwing - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Donna Troy & Dick Grayson Characters: Donna Troy, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper (mentioned), Garth (mentioned), Joey Wilson (mentioned) Additional Tags: non-graphic injury, Stitches, Donna and Dick are plutonic soulmates, Dick is emotionally repressed, mention of vomiting, Bruce is a good dad, POV Donna Troy, childhood best friends to adult best friends, Whipped Cream, a little fluff at the end, Teen Titans as Family, technically they're adults though, no beta we die like DONNA SORRY HONEY, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, Donna Troy is slightly better at feelings Summary:

The one where Dick gives Donna stitches as she reflects on how he's changed throughout the years.

“Donna, sweetheart, I love you, now hold still.” Dick carefully positioned her forearm on an examination table. A deep gash left blood steadily trickling down, squeezing out through his iron grasp. He wiped down the area with disinfectant, smiling at her fondly and projecting the perfect image of calm.

Donna marveled for a moment. He was a well-oiled machine, moving with explicit confidence and practiced precision. She could easily believe him to be a paramedic, or even a doctor, if she didn’t know he’d dropped out of college. She remained stony face as he injected the local anesthetic, acutely aware of his eyes flicking from the gash to her face. Despite the painful stinging radiating through her arm, she was proud to say she didn’t flinch.

She was tired of hurting her best friend. She was the one who wasn’t careful enough, hadn’t dodged in time. But none of that ever mattered to Dick, perhaps it wasn’t fair, but if she flinched, he’d feel even worse.

She still remembered the look on his face the first time he gave Roy stitches.

There’d been tears welling in his eyes, his brow furrowed in determination and his skin lacking any color; he’d bit his lip so hard it bled. The instant he was finished, he raced out of the room, faster than she’d ever seen. Garth had followed, only to have the bathroom door slammed in his face; Dick had sobbed and vomited until he was left dry heaving.

And here he stood, expressionless before her. “Can you feel it?” He gently pressed a finger near the wound. <em>Can you?</em> She wondered, trying to read past the blank haze in his eyes. “Donna?” He asked more firmly, voice even and unrevealing.

“Nope.” She popped the p and kept the tone light, watching as suspicion flashed behind his eyes. He knew she wouldn’t complain, even if she could feel her arm. “Dick, I really can’t feel it, I promise.”

Dick’s eyes always reminded her of a hawk. He inspected her face, and finding it clear from deceit, he turned his eyes to the wound, flicking on a bright lamp, and began wordlessly cleaning it.

That first time, Dick hadn’t come out of the bathroom for hours and when he finally opened the door, he announced he was quitting the team. He was back the next day with a medical textbook, refusing to do anything until he finished memorizing it. They had to call Bruce in the middle of their sleepover because he wouldn’t sleep.

He’d been grounded from Robin; they hadn’t seen him for a week. She’d been angry at the time, but now she realized Bruce was probably just trying to give him a break. The day he came back the book was memorized, and he had a little fake pad to practice stitching on. Bruce bought him his own surgical tools and gave him extra lessons. He had a small, jagged scar where he’d let Dick give him his first set of sutures.

Dick was thirteen when he’d frantically given Roy stitches (later she realized he only knew how from watching Alfred), fourteen the first time he’d practice on Bruce, and sixteen by the time he began doing it apathetically. He did a lot of things seemingly apathetic these days, but if she was careful, she could spot the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, or the downward twitch of his lip.

Slowly, Dick’s tweezers found and picked out the last metal shard. He was twenty-two now, and as he was readying their x-ray machine, the equipment was purchased by Victor’s father and not his own. The Titan’s Tower had been destroyed several times over, but by some miracle of engineering, the medical bay’s equipment always survived. He wrapped the wound, and draped lead over her, hesitating briefly before speaking.

“I’ll be back in a second, it won’t take long.” He promised. She nodded; not like she was going anywhere. They’d done this before; Dick always doubled checked. But she couldn’t recall a single time he’d found something more.

One time, he’d skipped the double check, and she’d heard Roy yelling at 3am, having been woken up when Dick’s worry got too intense to wait. But Roy had given in, the x-ray done a few minutes later. Sometimes, it was just easier to give into Dick’s paranoid behavior. One of these days, she liked to joke, they’d just put lead in their sheets or MRI equipment in the walls.

Dick strode back in, evidently pleased with the results, and they began their silent tradition. Well almost silent; he turned on some ambient music, the same kind he listened to when studying. She let her mind wander, and his fingers never wavered as he removed the bandage and began the first stitch.

She closed her eyes, thinking about times when things were simpler. When they went on picnics in the park and played frisbee together, how Dick would braid her hair and paint her nails before dates with Roy, had laughed loud, cried hard, and loved freely. He was the same as before but could flip on a dime and shut away who he used to be. She found herself missing the little boy who cried after giving stitches.

“Done.” She opened her eyes to an apologetic smile. He began wrapping the wound once again. “Lay off it for a while.” It was an order and a request, sometime long ago the distinction had faded away. She rolled her eyes to finish the routine.

Her arm stung, but the weight in her chest was heavier and more distracting than the steady throb of pain. She wasn’t thirteen anymore, and neither was Dick, but she could pretend for the rest of the night that they were young and invincible (despite having physical evidence contradicting her).

So, she grabbed his hand tight and before he realized what was happening, began dragging him across the room.

“Donna, I have work tomorrow.” He protested. Well, that would be easy enough to deal with.

“Call in sick.” She suggested, not slackening her grip, lest Dick escape and fly off somewhere far away.

“I’m out of sick days.” He stumbled along, doing his best to protest without causing harm. “And I have to patrol tonight.” Donna laughed, but not unkindly.

“Let the city watch itself. Take a day without pay. Honey, you’re rich.” She suggested.

“Doooonnnnnaaaaaaaaaa.” He groaned, as they made it into the hall. “I have a life, I can’t just…”

“Drop everything to spend time with me?” She asked sweetly. “Sweetie, you have before. What makes tonight any different.” Dick opened his mouth and closed it. She steered them into the kitchen, finally releasing him. “We’re going to make hot fudge sundaes, and watch Scooby Doo, and fall asleep on the couch talking about boys.” Dick wrinkled his nose.

“You hate Scooby Doo, and only <em>you</em> talk about boys.” She gave him an unimpressed look. She saw the way he used to look at Joey. “Donna, I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s great but I-”

“Need to take time to take care of yourself?” She asked incredulously. “Wow, me too.” She held up her arm. “What a coincidence, less talking, more cartoons.” Dick stared at her. She counted the seconds as she stared back.

He sighed, breaking first. She’d won this battle, though she had no idea where she stood in the war.

“I’m going to lose my job.” He muttered. A bonus in her eyes, it would do him good to sleep more than three hours a night. She rummaged around for ingredients in the fridge.

“Cry me a river.” An empty demand, he never would, not anymore.

“Why are you so mean to me?” He pouted. She grabbed a can of whip cream and pointed it at him threateningly.

“Because you have terrible bedside manners.” He stuck out his tongue and stole the can, dangling it over her face as she laughed and opened her mouth. He accidentally squirted some up her nose, but she didn’t mind.

And as he pulled out the bowls, they fell into familiar conversation; the space gained through the years seeming to slip away as she was reacquainted with the man who gives her stitches.

#my writing #Dick Grayson #Donna Troy #Titans #DC give us more fab five content please #tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: vomiting #it isn't graphic i promise #Nightwing #Wonder Girl #Troia

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Scuffed Souls

Pairing: Midge Maisel/Lenny Bruce Rating: M Word Count: 2769

Summary: Despite her declared intention to go get herself a taxi, Midge can't seem to leave Lenny's hotel. Parts of it aren't so bad—the ocean view, the pool, Lenny. She could be persuaded into a little recklessness.

It’s the way he says it—“before I’m dead”—that has her twisting on the soles of her new shoes to turn back towards him with an equally twisted smile that can’t fully perk up to the uncomplicated amusement she usually feels when Lenny cracks a joke. It just didn’t sound like one.

And now she’s probably scuffed the black soles on the wretched, fine-pebbled stone of these slabs surrounding the pool of what’s otherwise a really rather sad hotel. He knows it, she knows it, and she can’t blame him for wanting her to come into his room, if only to liven it up for a few minutes. She wonders if anybody’s ever died here. Wait, she thinks, of course they have. It’s a gracelessly aging Floridian hotel. The count for patrons who’ve left unscathed is probably lower.

“Is that a long list?” Midge calls back to him.

Like the melancholy, reluctant romantic he is, Lenny’s still leaning in his doorway, watching her depart. Until a moment ago. Now he’s watching her stand here in kind of a weird realm: the post-date, non-overnight stay who issued a spoken plan to find herself a taxi like a big girl. She’s loitering. Then again, unlike at home in New York, you can do that here. Loiter your heart out. Cross that heart and hope not to die before you’ve slept with the woman whose martial status changes from minute to minute. Roll the dice! No, that’s Vegas.

Even from this distance, she can see Lenny cock his head in that way he has—playfully subservient as a child and publicly tactful as a monied, middled-aged woman. Some days, he could mirror her mother. What a gag that would be.

“Things you wanna do before you’re dead,” Midge explains with a tight gesture of her arm. Just the elbow down. God, is she nervous? She seems to be suddenly doing an imitation of Susie meeting Lenny for the first time.

“Not really. I think of somethin’ good from time to time and, of course, when I do, I can’t find the paper I started the list on and I have to get a new one… so it never really gets that long.”

“I just wondered. You know, how much time I have.”

“The length of the list determines my distance from death? This I did not know. Powerful,” Lenny notes emphatically, producing the same noncommittal smile from Midge. “I guess I better look harder for the next one I lose. Handy thing to refer to.”

“There’s that,” she agrees, “but also…” She takes a step back in the direction of his open doorway. The pool shimmers at her side. He’s right about the pool. Somehow, a pool at night looks glamorous no matter the courtyard. She hopes she looks half as good. “I wonder if there’s sort of an implication in there that—” Midge rolls a modest hand over the crassness she’d have no trouble blurting out on stage, no matter which of her relatives were in the audience. “—the quality of it would extend your life.”

He’s smiling wickedly at her. She’s gotten away with nothing and has no option remaining but to clutch primly at the handle of her purse with both hands.

“If anybody else told me that,” Lenny warns, “I wouldn’t believe them, but you I know to have been engaged to a doctor, and so I assume that any medical information you may have to offer vis-à-vis sex—” Spoken in a harsh stage whisper that nearly makes her (her) blush. “—comes certified by some type of professional board.”

“I didn’t say it was the truth, I said I wondered whether it were what you were implying.”

“Me? Well, you can’t trust that guy. Still, worth chancing, wouldn’t you say?”

Midge’s scuffed soles have brought her many steps nearer to Lenny than she remembers being in lucid command of. She’s slow-tongued as she stares at his impish expression. Flat-out flustered when he tips his head back with a smile to rest it on the doorframe.

“In there?” she asks with eyebrows arching like the next stop on this tour is St. Louis. She points sideways, where his bedside lamp glows. “On one hand, eternal life—on the other, whatever diseases are living in those sheets.”

“Oh, they’re very well mannered,” Lenny assures her with a casual brushing aside motion. “We split the rent fifty-fifty.”

“Hmm, then I’m not sure there’s room for me in that scenario.”

“The shower’s not bad,” he counters.

“Water pressure?”

“No, cleanliness. Haven’t you ever—” He employs the hand roll she should patent if it looks like that when she does it. Elegant. Prudent. Half what she wants to be and the other half what she has no hope of becoming. “—in a shower?”

Because Lenny’s looking at her like she’ll either sidestep (metaphorically—the shoes have suffered enough these past few minutes without risking anything more than a regular forward walk) or say no, she takes very great pleasure in smiling devilishly back at him.

“A shower sounds luxurious. Never done it in a bathroom with a shower before. You look scandalized,” Midge notes. “Do the diners in your neighbourhood have showers in their ladies’ rooms?”

“You had sex in a diner bathroom? I’m impressed,” he allows.

“Thank you. I needed that. I carry every compliment about the encounter back to my closet and console my wedding dress with it. Poor thing never did look the same after rubbing up against those walls.”

“Is this in your act?” Lenny demands, leaning towards her earnestly. “Why haven’t I heard this?”

“Put it in my act? Lenny, please. I’m a lady.”

“Hence the ladies’ room, I suppose.”

She giggles lightly with her lips pressed together. He earned that last line. Set her face on fire to get there, so she’ll let him have it. Speaking of letting him have it. Midge finds herself dropping her eyes so they don’t get into their second intense staring contest of the night. Can’t look straight ahead, can’t look to the right because that’s where his room is and the bed is highly prominent. Almost too eager. The bed is the bump in the front of a virgin’s pants on prom night when his date’s skirt brushes a little too close as they dance. Those crazy kids. Oh, to be young.

Midge looks left.

“The ocean,” she observes, and says, like an idiot. She even does another fucking gesture towards it, like he’d miss it somehow. “It’s… big.” Clever. Real sharp.

“Bigger than in New York? I think so too. Alligators though.”

“It’s ok, you’re talking to a fellow New Yorker. You can use the real term. Pre-handbags,” she prompts when Lenny gives her an inquisitive look.

He lets her have the wrap joke this time, but he’s more persistent about trying to catch her eye. She gets it. She is still standing here making alligator jokes when she was supposed to be in a car on her way back to the type of hotel it would be kinder not to tell this hotel exists. A hotel containing her parents, Shy Baldwin and his entourage, the boxer shorts Susie sleeps in and forgot to pack when she went to save Sophie’s ass. Hopefully Susie doesn’t need to cover that famous, demanding ass because she left the best equipment behind.

Lenny tosses his coat into his room and pulls the door shut, startling Midge.

“How ‘bout the pool?” he asks as he steps around her, arm extended to point. She swivels (damn, damn, damn, her shoes) and chases him. “You ever done it in a pool?”

“Actually, no.”

“I heard the pause and, trust me, I’m enthralled that you even had to think about it.”

“Did I mention I hit my head doing it in the bathroom? Pretty hard. All my memories before that day are hazy, so it’s really anybody’s guess.”

He gifts her an indulgent little smile and stops at the side of the pool. As she looks on, he removes his shoes and socks. Midge hears herself make the noise she makes when she denies Ethan a cookie only to see Zelda handing one over when she returns to the kitchen. The noise says, Is that wise? when her adult mommy brain knows for damn sure that it’s not. Lenny wets his foot and flicks water at her. The mommy noise had no effect on him at all.

“It’s nice,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “Warm.”

“Of course it’s warm. The air’s warm. Everything here is warm.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” When Lenny frowns, it’s tragic. The most tragic thing you’ve ever witnessed. “You see, I’ve been so cold since the end of our dance. I really may die if I can’t hold you against me.”

Midge tilts her head back and laughs.

“You’re worse than the guy I tried to scare off at the bar by mentioning dick jokes. And you’ll die? Really? All of a sudden, I’m the cause of your death rather than the agent of its postponement?”

Though he smiles, his eyes remain soulful. There really is something tricky about trying to be funny when he’s looking at her a certain way. She’s probably returning the look.

“Take a dip with me.”

“Why?” she asks, smiling.

“Because I want to admire you with that rose in your hair without the rest of it to distract me.” He nods down at her dress.

“My outfit is distracting? Terrific. Now I know I wore a distracting outfit on Brye Adler.”

Self-deprecating thoughts trickle away, accompanied by the gentle slosh of the ocean behind them. A rambling, improvised bit about what she’s wearing won’t change the fact that Lenny said what he said and she heard it.

“Are you going to call me a taxi if I keep standing here?” Midge asks.

“I had no intention of reminding you of that plan.” He rests a thoughtful forefinger against his upper lip. “But you do seem to be stuck. You won’t brave the room, but you also haven’t left.”

As though demonstrating how to do it, Lenny crouches and trails his fingers through the water of the pool.

“Still warm.”

He gazes up at her with needful brown eyes. The need feels equal to hers. She’s tired of being the only one needing.

“You have neighbours.” It’s between a question and a statement.

“Ah, they’re all either young and stoned or old and asleep.”

Midge makes a decision.

“Gimme your key. I’m going to change in your room.”

“Change into what? Do you have a bikini in your purse?”

She leans close to snatch the key he’s withdrawn from his pocket for the second time tonight and grins.

“Into nothing.”

Lenny takes a visibly shaky breath, not trying to hide it from her.

“Well, I’ll be here performing the role of guinea pig by stripping for any neighbours who may be watching. Should you hear wolf-whistles…”

“I’ll run right back out and join the audience,” Midge promises.

They smile at each other until Lenny tests the tension by loosening his tie. Her eyes drop to watch and she realizes she’d better go do what she said before he’s naked enough to make her lose her nerve. She hurries, high heels clapping on the stone.

His room isn’t quite as bad as anything she and Susie experienced on their first road tour, but it definitely isn’t anything to write home about. Not that he’d need to, seeing as this is his home ‘til Friday and likely beyond. Standing beside Lenny’s bed, Midge unfastens her dress. For the first time since Joel, she does it quickly. For the first time since splitting up with Benjamin, she does it alone. Beneath the dress, she’s cinched in pretty damn tight and she rubs at the red lines in her skin as she takes deep breaths that she lies to herself about—telling herself it’s the relief of being free of her undergarments. She lays her dress on his coral bedding. She positions her purse on his nightstand. Adjusting the rose in her hair, she slips her feet back into her shoes and dons Lenny’s carelessly-discarded suit jacket. Though it’s no beach coverup, it hides enough to get from here to the pool.

She spots the pile of his clothes before she sees him, head bobbing up through the surface as he slicks his wet hair back and swipes water from his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Midge teases to his stunned expression as he locks onto her approaching figure. “The shoes are coming off momentarily. I know they’re distracting.”

As if he’s even aware that she’s wearing shoes; his eyes are fixed on her legs as though she’s an exotic species of butterfly and his gaze is a mounting pin.

“That’s all I see when I look at you,” Lenny says, arms thrusting to propel himself backwards across the width of the pool. He halts at the far side and rests his arms on the stones, chest above the line of the water. “One big pair of shoes.”

Midge shoots him a coy smile as she steps out of them, wary to avoid treading on his watch. That’s what gets her: his watch. She stares down at it, resting there, the glass face catching the light, second hand ticking away. Before they’re dead.

“Aren’t you going to close your eyes or something?” she asks, standing in bare feet, Lenny’s jacket, and a rose. “Or are you only a gentleman when it comes to sharing a cigarette?”

“For you, I will go through the charade.”

He places a hand over his eyes. His mouth smiles below it.

Watching him, she swiftly sits on the side, dangling her legs in the water. With tentative fingers, she undoes the first button on the jacket. His hand doesn’t move. She undoes the second. Nothing from Lenny. Jacket open, Midge shrugs it from her shoulders. As she pushes off the wall, dropping into the pool, he lowers his hand.

“Hey!” she complains, spluttering on water, but he raises both hands helplessly, then goes back to holding himself up at the opposite side of the pool. “That was a dirty trick.”

“I would repent if I could find it in my heart to do so, but I just don’t regret it.”

Midge laughs, shaking her head and treading water.

“By the way,” Lenny adds. “The rose looks wonderful.”

She managed to keep all but the very bottom of her hair dry and can feel the flower still tucked between the strands. Fleetingly, she thinks of where she’s supposed to be tonight. What would Carole have to say about a situation like this? Maybe Midge can be the one who knows how a situation goes for once, without warnings or tips. Just… living it. That’s how she gets the material for her act, which what’s happening tonight could never be part of. ‘So,’ she imagines telling a crowd, ‘I finally fucked Lenny Bruce. Plenty of people already thought I had, so I doubt anybody’s still betting on it, but if you had money on it happening in a swimming pool in Florida, happy days!’

“Can you see it from way over there?” she asks coquettishly.

“A little.”

“Seeing a rose ‘a little’ won’t do. Do you think Shakespeare only bothered to see a rose ‘a little’ before writing that line about how sweet it smells?”

Lenny shoves away from the side and swims lazily in her direction.

“What does yours smell like?”

“Pool chemicals, probably.”

“An underrated scent.”

Midge’s heart surges and her throat seizes up, tongue awkward in her mouth as he draws nearer. With the glow and distortive properties of the water, his body’s nothing but a blur below the surface, as she’s sure hers is as well.

“It’s like a forcefield,” he notes. “I get close enough to you and, it’s not that the world stops being funny, it’s…”

“It’s that it becomes somebody else’s job to make the joke.”

“That’s it,” Lenny agrees softly as they begin to slowly circle each other.

Gradually, they work their way over to where it’s shallow. Midge’s toes skim the bottom when she begins to uncurl her legs. Her body gets used to the weightless feeling of the water, muscles relaxing, but her heart beats harder and harder. Finally, she cuts across their circle and wraps her arm behind Lenny’s neck as she presses her mouth to his. His hand cups her cheek, then shifts, knocking the rose from her hair.

#my writing #The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel #tmmm #Midge Maisel #Lenny Bruce #Midge x Lenny #the ongoing dick-measuring contest between me and the Palladinos #so what if they aren't aware of it? does that matter?#as a writer I'm really just here to fix the unsatisfying plot points of the Palladinoverse

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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the mountain between us | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Sloane McTavish)

Rating: E

Warnings: language, adult content, N*FW, description of a panic attack

Word count: 8.1k

Summary: In which the return to Edenbrook doesn’t go as planned, or: Ethan and Sloane get the hell out of Dodge Boston.

Notes: This story continues off my previous fic, waiting for rain , although this can be read as a stand-alone. It is a sort of AU of chapter 12, in which Danny has a separate funeral of his own (I mean, I get why PB wrote it to save time/redundancies, but I don’t see them somehow managing to secure burial plots right next to each other? Anyway, the wonders of fiction aside…).

------

She makes it to the diagnostic office with two seconds to spare.

The muffled thump of the door meeting the casing is like a gunshot, echoing in the quiet room. She stumbles past the table and over to the couch, trying to get out of direct line of sight. The leather creaks under her weight as she collapses onto the cushion. That constant undercurrent of dread builds into a wave, washing over her. Her hands start to shake and soon, the rest of her body follows suit. The faux-wood grain of the coffee table before her is the only thing in focus; the rest of the world is warped, as if she’s viewing it through binoculars. Her heart feels as if someone has a fist around it and is trying to pull it free through her throat.

“Stop… fucking… crying,” she hisses, wiping furiously at her cheeks. But her lacrimal glands pay no mind to her threats, nor does the rest of her when she begs it to stop panicking.

All this, she bemoans, over plastic wrap -- just a patient’s sandwich that he asked for her help unwrapping. But the moment she touched it and felt it crinkle under her hands, she was back in that tented room, shrouded by the thick plastic draped over the walls, sealed in and suffocated by the opaque sheeting, waiting and waiting and waiting to die.

She doesn’t remember what terrible joke she made about not being a fan of tuna, nor does she remember the trip from the oncology ward to here, several floors down. None of her friends must have seen her, because none of them have followed her in here, at the ready with their hugs and assurances, suffocating in their own loving way.

“You’re the worst… person on earth,” she whispers, clenching her jaw in an effort to stave off another round of tears.

“Sloane?”

She glances up to see Ethan stepping into the room, his mouth crumpled into that familiar frown of worry -- the one he’s worn ever since she returned. He says her name like it’s a question, as if she has the option to shake her head no and become someone else. It’s a tempting idea. Her reply is at the ready, as natural as breathing now. Not that she’s doing a very good job of doing the latter.

“I’m fine.”

“I see that.” Though the words should be harsh, his tone is anything but -- weighed down by all the concern in the world, it seems. His gaze roves over her, observing and diagnosing her like the specimen she is, walking through Edenbrook’s halls once more. “You’re having a panic attack,” he says, more to himself than to her.

“Correction: my second. First was in the supply closet. Decided I wanted a change of scenery.”

Although it’s a struggle to get the words out, her audience doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” he asks.

“Please.” The plea is whispered into her clasped hands. She tightens her grip, trying in vain to stop the tremors working through her.

Ethan crosses the room and takes a seat next to her, giving her the illusion of space by twisting at the waist to look at her. In blocking her view of the hallway, he also blocks them from seeing her. His hand comes to rest on the space between them, a show of support that doesn’t make her feel crowded or trapped. She could kiss him right now, if it weren’t for the whole world-feeling-like-it’s-falling-out-from-underneath-her sensation. Her lungs ache with each choppy, shallow breath she drags in.

“I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

Untangling her laced hands, she reaches down and rests her hand atop his. With a gentle motion, his fingers shift to nestle alongside hers, grounding her with the pleasant warmth of his touch. With her eyes closed, she focuses on the smooth breaths he takes, mimicking them as best she can. Seconds turn to minutes, marked only by his murmured phrases of assurance and his pulse, sure and steady under her palm. Gradually, her breath begins to ebb and flow, rolling in and out of her lungs in languid sweeps.

She opens her eyes. The office fades into focus. The track lighting is still too bright, so she turns to Ethan. The sympathy welling in his eyes almost makes her want to shut hers again. His gaze tracks over her in a fitful dance; he’s mapping out each tear that stains her cheeks and neck.

“I’m okay,” she tries this time.

His eyebrows scrunch down as he studies her.

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not.” Sloane leans forward and rubs at her cheeks. If she puts her hair down, she could maybe make it to the bathroom and wash away the evidence before a staff member notices. “Have you thought any more about Aurora’s proposal?”

“The one you two dropped on me at the private memorial we had on Tuesday morning? No, I can’t say that I have.” Shaking his head, he pinches at the bridge of his nose and sighs. “God, Sloane, I don’t want to talk about the hospital. I don’t give a damn about it right now. I only care about you.”

The cushion creaks as she shifts, uncertain how to drive the conversation away from her. She goes with the best tactic: avoidance.

“Well, thanks, then. But I should go. I’ve wasted enough time as it is. I’ve got to pick up some labs and check up on Mr. Evans and see what Baz wanted from--”

Ethan puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes, once, then again.

“Stop. Stop worrying about everybody else for a second.”

She snorts out a humorless laugh at that. “I’m serious,” he continues, pressing on her shoulder and urging her to look at him. “I know that you practically begged Naveen to let you come back to work, even after I told you no, but I think you need to give yourself more time. I think you pushed yourself too hard.”

“I was stuck here for three days, and then stuck at home for another four. I’m done waiting around. I can only take so much medical leave. And I can’t just… sit at home cowering in fear.”

“So you thought doing it at work would be better?” he asks candidly.

“Fuck you.”

Sloane jumps to her feet and rounds the table, leaving him to throw his pity party for her all by himself -- then freezes. Outside the glass walls, the hallway is teeming with people. Nurses and orderlies and patients mill about, pushing gurneys and cleaning carts and wheelchairs. Several nurses at the station spot her and then, like marionettes on shared strings, turn towards each other at once, their chins tipped low as they converse. She feels like a zoo animal, on display for the hospital to ogle at.

“Go home, Sloane,” comes Ethan’s voice from behind her. His footsteps drag across the rug as he approaches. “For another day or two, at least. Please.”

She turns from the hallway and brings her arms around her chest to hug herself tight.

“I… it’s no walk in the park there, either. Being there alone is frightening enough, but when everybody’s home, they walk on eggshells around me. Even Jackie, who I can always count on to be a certified bitch, has been coddling me. It’s... I hate being home. It’s like they’re too afraid to say something that might -- I don’t know, offend me? -- so they don’t say anything at all. It’s like living with a ghost, except I’m Bruce Willis in this scenario.” She stops short, figuring she’ll have to explain that one, but he holds up his palm to keep the synopsis at bay.

“I understand your reference. You know, I have seen a film or two.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

She tries for the usual smile that wants to form when making fun of his limited pop culture knowledge. Her bravado falls away, though, as he comes to stand close to her. His arms cross over his chest, as if attempting to keep his hands to himself in front of their audience. “You know what it was like for me,” she continues, “being in that room, doing nothing--”

He cuts her off, his blue eyes suddenly ablaze.

“That isn’t what I saw. You stood by Rafael’s side. You helped him when you yourself couldn’t walk without falling over. You lost every semblance of control during the worst moment of your life, and you still were able to relay the changes in your symptoms. You saved Rafael’s life--”

“That was all Tobias and the team’s--”

“You know as well as I do that patient care is more than an antidote in a syringe. You think that if we’d stuck him in a room alone, away from you, or inside one of those glass boxes that he would still be alive? Think again, Rookie.”

The passion and heat in his voice, along with the return of her nickname, sends a tingle up the length of her spine. “I watched you struggle to be by his side. I watched you have all your faculties ripped away. Which is why I’m so worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“Ethan--” she starts, but he barrels right over the deflection attempt.

“If you had a patient who was experiencing the same symptoms at work, would you tell them to get over it? Would you tell them to push past their fears and their anxieties, in order to stay on the clock?”

Her lips purse at his point, knowing that he’s right. But she doesn’t want to let him win this one.

“Doctors do a lot of things they tell their patients not to. We’re the biggest hypocrites of them all.”

“No, I think that honor falls on politicians,” he quips.

The little laugh feels foreign in her mouth. She can’t help but notice the way his eyes light up in response to the noise.

“I have an idea.” She raises a brow in interest, spurring him on. “Let me take you somewhere. Anywhere you’d like. We can leave today, spend a long weekend away. We’ll swing by your place, pack you a bag, and go.”

“And you think we can just… leave? Slack off on our duties like that? What about our patients?”

The corner of his mouth hitches up in a smirk.

“You’re talking to the person who does the scheduling. And I happen to know your boss wouldn’t mind. My boss has been not-so-subtly sending me couples vacation rentals after seeing our appearance on national television.”

Taking a deep breath, Sloane considers the offer as he watches her, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. That tingling sensation returns, banking higher and higher within her.

“Okay,” she agrees, hating how her heart beats a little faster at the brilliant smile on his face. “I like the way you think. Let’s go.”

------

Within two hours, they load up Ethan’s car and make their way out of Boston, Jenner wiggling happily in the backseat.

The city center gives way to the urban sprawl. That soon becomes overtaken by suburbia and its penchant for shopping outlets and tract housing. Sloane can’t help the sigh of relief that comes when they reach Medford and the city skyline drops away in the rearview. They leave the coastal lowlands of Massachusetts behind, heading north along the interstate and up into New Hampshire. Though she packed a bag with what little information he gave her, she’s curious still when they stop at a food truck for lunch.

“You realize you could hit the navigation screen on the GPS, right?” Ethan points out. “It’ll tell you exactly where we’re going.”

“That’s cheating. I thought you taught me to be a better doctor than that.”

“No, I taught you how to be a smarter doctor. Besides, you’re the one knowledgeable about technology.” When she doesn’t immediately outright ask, he settles back in his chair and pets Jenner when she approaches for attention. “All right, then. Diagnose it.”

Sloane’s fork pauses on its way to her mouth. She shoots him an incredulous look, but when he simply cocks an eyebrow, she takes the bait.

“We’re headed north. At first, I thought Maine, especially with what you suggested I bring, but we’ve gone too far west now. It wouldn’t make any sense to make a big right turn and head east. And we’re not going as far as Canada, because you didn’t tell me to bring my passport -- which I do have, by the way, though I’ve only gotten to use it one time.”

“I know,” he tells her. “There’s several photos of your semester abroad on your Pictagram page.”

“Those photos are from my senior year of undergrad. That means you scrolled for quite a while, Dr. Ramsey.” It’s impossible to miss the blush burning along his cheeks and up his ears. Sloane tips her head to the side, eyes wide, her words teasing: “Were you that interested in Stockholm?”

“It’s a lovely city.”

That thick, bottom lip of his ticks up in a grin. The little cafe suddenly feels too warm for her, but she resists the urge to tug at her sweater.

“Right. So, not Canada. I have to admit, I’m not well-versed in what New Hampshire or Vermont have to offer, other than maple syrup and hiking. Ooh, and Ben and Jerry’s.” Twirling her straw wrapper around her finger, she looks him over for another minute before giving up with a shrug. “Nope, I’ve got nothin’.”

“Some dedicated physician you are.”

His grin widens as the balled-up wrapper hits his chest.

------

They leave the interstate behind after entering Vermont.

Instead, the state highway takes them through the proper countryside. When the satellite radio fails to connect, Sloane steals the aux cord and plugs in her phone. Ethan’s protests quiet down soon enough when, instead of the pop drivel he expects, Nat King Cole croons out of the speakers.

The Taconic mountains roll along beside them, as if shielding them from the outside world; Sloane appreciates the gesture. Clusters of horses and cattle float along in their fenced-in pastures, the grass rippling under a light wind blowing off the mountains. Towns seem to sneak up on them as the road curves through the valley. Tiny stores and tiny gas stations and tiny churches, Johnson’s Hardware and Morgan’s Jewelry and Lee’s Drugstore line up along the roadside. Hanging signs advertise berry farms and local maple syrup, their arrows pointing up into the hills. Then the highway curves again, and the towns disappear from the rearview.

Sloane watches it all from her reclined position against the center console, her hand in Ethan’s as he drives. Jenner’s wet nose bumps against her cheek when the Boxer mix demands affection. Though they swore off it back in Massachusetts, they talk about work, which leads them to medical articles, which leads them to the inaccuracies in medical dramas. Serenading about her need for a Sunday kind of love, Etta James joins them as they cross into New York.

It doesn’t take too long before the feminine voice of the GPS announces that they’ve arrived. Sloane does a double-take at the welcome sign as they pass it.

“Wait -- isn’t this where that horror movie was set?” she asks.

“The film took place in Maine, actually.”

“How are you suddenly an expert on horror movies from the late nineties? And how did I not know that? Did I finally find your film niche?”

“My friend forced me to attend his Halloween party in high school,” he admits with a sigh.

They pass by the shops and bars and restaurants that line Main Street, all the brick facades and rugged decor blocking the view. Locals and fellow tourists clog the sidewalks, meandering in and out of the storefronts as they enjoy the afternoon sunshine. Eventually, the buildings fall away, and the world is filled with nothing but a cloudless sky and clear water that stretches wide beyond the guardrail. Just over a stretch of land, Lake Placid burns a deep blue in the sunlight.

Sloane keeps her eyes on the sights, but shifts her attention back to the man in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, now I have to know: what was your costume?”

“A doctor,” he says, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

She chuckles at the image of a teenage Ethan in his white coat and his patterned tie, swimming in his tailored shirts and trousers, lecturing his friends on the risks of alcohol poisoning.

“Oh my god, of course you did. Did you at least dump fake blood on yourself or something?”

“No.” His brow crinkles as he glances over at her, confused. “Why would I have done that?”

“To look scary.”

A smirk appears on his face at the idea. “Right. And what did you dress up as when you were sixteen?”

“I’m pretty sure I went as Daphne. My girlfriend Ruby went as Velma.”

“What, you didn’t douse yourself with fake blood?”

“Honestly, we should have. That would’ve looked badass.”

Ethan shakes his head at her, but she can see that smirk of his hasn’t disappeared. Turning off the main drag, he takes them down a one-lane road that winds back into the wilderness. After passing the town lodge, the occasional driveway and accompanying mailbox are the only signs of human life among the towering pines.

The house is tucked back off the road, a pretty little cottage painted robin’s egg blue. Two rocking chairs frame either side of the front door. Once Sloane releases her, Jenner darts out and takes full advantage of the lush front lawn, sniffing along the shrubs and tree line. Leaving Jenner to her exploring, Ethan hauls in their bags with Sloane following behind. The rustic decor leans too far towards kitschy for both of them, but she finds the log bed frame and large, dramatic painting of a howling wolf charming. The real draw, though, is the wide back deck, where the sea of trees parts to offer a stunning view of the lake.

It’s the perfect place, she decides later while sipping from her second glass of scotch, to watch the sunset. From his position, Ethan seems to agree. His arms are wrapped around her waist as they spread out across the porch swing. Bundled up in scarves and blankets to ward off the evening chill, they watch the sky turn from blue to orange to black. The stars, when they fade into view, are thrown into sharp relief against the night. It’s almost dizzying to be able to see so many.

It reminds her of back home, of lying on Ruby’s hood in her grandparents’ driveway under the pretense of looking for falling stars, but actually making out under the cover of darkness.

Curled up atop their feet, Jenner sighs in her sleep; Sloane mimics the noise, stretching out against Ethan. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his lips against her temple.

“Do you remember the Stevensons’ house down in North Quincy?” he asks, continuing before she can respond, because he knows that she doesn’t forget a patient. “This place reminds me of that. But the desire for peace and solitude makes a lot more sense to me, now.”

She shifts in his arms to rest her cheek against his shoulder.

“It reminds me of where I grew up, in this one-horse town in Virginia.” It’s a detour of the conversation he wants to have, but she can’t help but avoid talking about That for just a little while longer. “I mean, really, a real hole-in-the-wall kind of place. My grandparents lived there for sixty years, though, so that was home. When I was nine, my mom dropped me and my brother off at their house and never came back. So, it became our home, too. They took us in and let us have the run of the land -- which was easy to do, since we were surrounded on all sides by mountains. I was happy there -- happier than I’d been with my mom. But I spent a lot of time daydreaming about living in the big city, going to all the college parties that I saw on television, and travelling the world.”

His grip tightens around her. “And then you didn’t,” he murmurs.

“No, I didn’t,” is all she says, knowing he’s replaying her deathbed confession in his head, just as she is. “Though I blame that more on becoming infatuated with this diagnostician who wrote all these amazing books, and who inspired me to go to medical school and one day become one of the country’s greatest doctors.”

“What do you mean?” At her hum of confusion, he clarifies. “You already are, Sloane.”

Tears spring to her eyes at his declaration, but she hides them by burrowing closer into his warmth.

“But yeah, despite growing up in the middle of nowhere, it’s nice to be there again. I mean, you can’t get views like this back in Boston.” She waves a hand towards the thick spread of stars above them.

“Your file didn’t list your grandparents as contacts.”

The invitation to talk about her past lies in the proverbial space between them; she takes it.

“They passed within a few months of each other when I was seventeen. They left what little they had to me and my brother, and I used that to get to college.”

She tells him about the farmhouse and how it would become so big and lonely; and the vintage, rose-patterned sofas that would collect dust; and the little kitchen at the back that would never smell of fresh coffee and banana bread again.

She doesn’t tell him about how it felt like being abandoned all over again.

Time has healed the wound’s edges, but it flares to life on occasion. Over the years, she’s learned to sit with the grief, to take long moments to study it and inspect it and move through it. It’s how she knows, despite the horrific tragedy at Edenbrook, that she’ll be okay. Maybe not right now, or next week, or next month, but someday.

From inside, muffled through the French doors, comes Gladys Knight singing about life’s ups and downs. Sloane closes her eyes, focusing on the song and on the steady brush of Ethan’s thumb as he strokes her arm. Across the dark expanse of the woods, a whippoorwill calls out, its warble echoing off the water.

At some point, she stirs to the sensation of movement, of warm lines of pressure along her back and behind her knees. Ethan is talking to Jenner in that low, gravelly voice of his, as if trying not to wake her. Before she can tease him for it, the blanket of sleep wraps around her once more.

------

After a lengthy argument on staying in bed versus exploring the town, Ethan takes the loss with a surprising amount of grace.

Oh, he grumbles a bit as he tugs on his sweater and makes several comments on how proper vacation etiquette does not include rising before nine a.m. But once she gets him downtown to the farmer’s market and gives him the task of finding the ugliest souvenir for her to give to her roommates, he perks right up.

Under a stretch of white tents, card tables are laden with wares and plants and produce. Buckets of brightly-colored croton and chrysanthemums flare against the white tablecloths. Necklaces, fishing lures, and welded sculptures glint, swing, and jingle, catching the attention of passers-by. Wines and cheeses and honey are bottled and wrapped and canned, their labels touting how local, how fresh, how organic they are. From somewhere along the thoroughfare comes the smell of hot apple cider as it drifts between the stalls.

Sloane is marveling at a collection of wind chimes that she has no use for whatsoever when she feels a hand settle on her lower back.

“I found it.” There’s a strange sense of pride in his voice as he lifts a nondescript, brown paper bag up for emphasis. Jenner knocks her body into his legs, as if reminding him of her role in the game. “Alright, well, technically Jenner did.”

“What is it?”

“As per your request, the most hideous object known to mankind.”

“I don’t think I was that--”

“Fine,” he concedes, “known to this region -- or state, at the very least.”

Out from the Lake Placid News’s crumpled pages comes a tankard of a coffee mug with Don’t confuse your GOOGLE search with my Medical Degree! printed along the side. Then, stamped underneath as if an afterthought: Adirondack Mountains, NY. Sloane stares at it with a sort of horrified amazement.

“It’s…” she trails off, unable to form words.

“I know,” Ethan agrees, turning the mug around to read over it again. Looped around his wrist is another smaller bag.

“What else did you get?”

“That one’s a surprise.”

Jostling the tote bag on her shoulder, she gestures to the cork sticking out. “I bought us some wine to go with dinner. C’mon, show me what you bought.” It may sound like she’s whining, but she’s not.

“Are you unaware of how surprises work?” he questions, raising a brow at her insistence.

“Okay, fine.” She lets the topic slide, grinning and rolling her eyes at his desire for secrecy.

Reaching towards him, he answers in kind by sliding his arm through hers. They spend the rest of the morning strolling through the stalls together. He buys a nice bottle of bourbon for Naveen; she buys a little box of self-care items for Sienna. When Sloane comments to the shop owner on the pretty photo printed around the candle, he mentions that it’s his own photograph of a nearby trail.

“It’s a short hike, no more than three miles roundtrip,” Terry tells them as he wraps up her gift. “You pass Lake Placid Lodge and keep going about four, four ‘n a half miles, and the trail is at the end of the road. You can’t miss it.”

------

Terry was right.

It’s impossible to miss the trail, given that four-hundred feet past their cottage, the road dead ends in a gravel semi-circle. Two boulders and a single post mark the trailhead: Kiver Mountain, 1.4 miles. After dropping off their purchases and changing into more terrain-friendly shoes, they set off on foot from the cottage.

Despite autumn’s grip on the foliage above, the last vestiges of late summer remain on the forest floor. Thick, leafy undergrowth makes the trees appear as if swimming in a downy sea of green. The hike’s elevation gain is slow and steady, which Sloane is grateful for, considering that eighty percent of her exercise comes in the form of running up and down hospital hallways. The other twenty percent is spent with ‘the boys’ in their dungeon gym that hasn’t seen the wet side of a paint roller since the Clinton administration. The views there, however, certainly make up for the lack of decor.

It’s the same view she’s enjoying now, what with Ethan in front of her. There is something to be said about wearing the proper apparel for such an activity, she’s finding.

“Sloane?”

Her gaze shoots up just as Ethan twists to look over his shoulder. “Were you listening?”

“No, sorry, I was--” she fumbles for something to say. The altitude must be getting to her, she reasons, because the next words out of her mouth were about to be ‘staring at your ass.’ “--um, I thought I saw a… snake.”

“They’re usually more afraid of you than you are of them.”

“You’ve never experienced me with a snake before.”

“I’ll make sure to warn them of your presence if I see one, then.”

“All snakes in the surrounding area just gave a collective sigh of relief.”

Her poor attempt at humor earns her an exasperated sigh, though she does catch the chuckle that follows. Ethan keeps talking, but she doesn’t really hear him. Mostly due to the fact that Jenner and he keep going, while her attention is caught by a small, branching path through the trees.

It’s been a long time since she spent a weekend away from the city. When her friends spent fall break camping or borrowing a friend of a friend’s uncle’s boat to cruise around on the lake, she stayed holed up at her desk, studying and outlining. Her first copy of Diagnostic Principles looks like she closed it around a rainbow, what with all of the colorful sticky notes peeking out from the pages. That same copy moved with her through every dorm at Duke, all the way across the Atlantic for her semester at Karolinska, and then at every off-campus apartment at Johns Hopkins.

After she left for college, the closest she came to the wilderness were the views on her Pictagram feed, or the nature documentaries Aurora likes to watch. Here, as Sloane pushes past bristly limbs, the scenery stretches out before her, live and in full-color. Drenched in sunlight, the valley stretches wide to whatever direction she’s facing. A trio of birds swoop down from above her, heading towards the staggering shelves of trees that line the distant hills. At the furthest edge, the blue shadows of the mountains melt into a spatter of gray clouds. It’s all very picturesque, so much so that when she hears a noise on the path behind her, she expects to turn and see a frolicking deer.

“Did you not hear me calling your name? What are you doing?” Ethan demands, his jaw firmly set as he looks her over. Trotting along beside him, Jenner sniffs at the ground, unaware of the impending argument. Sloane hops down from the outcropping she climbed for a better view.

“Sorry, I was--”

“You shouldn’t go off on your own like that.” The heat of frustration burns along his reprimand, surprising her with its intensity for such a small offense. “This isn’t a walk around the block back home. I was-- you can’t disappear on me like that.”

Sloane tries to let his tone roll off, but she also isn’t going to roll over for him. She sucks in a breath and mentally counts to five.

“Wow, okay. You’ve never fought me before about something so absurd. What’s this really about?”

In an instant, the fire is gone from his eyes. Ethan wipes a hand across his face and over his jaw; he gives his head a little shake, as if rousing himself from the spell of anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the blue of his eyes burning cool now. “I hoped that if we got away from the hospital that…” his words trail away under the birdsongs echoing around them.

Sloane takes Jenner’s leash and motions for Ethan to keep moving up the trail. She gives him an encouraging look when he glances over, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. The gentle slope becomes steep stone steps that they trudge up, climbing higher and higher, wary of the loose ones that wiggle under their feet.

“I thought that I would get better at this,” he finally says.

“This?” she prods.

“At coming to terms with what happened. And not just with you, although that’s a large part of it, obviously. But when Naveen was sick, when he was damn near death, I could still work. I could still be Doctor Ramsey. But when you…” he swallows and shakes his head again. At his sides, his hands clench into fists. “I was terrified, and I think some parts of me still are. But when I was in that lab with Travis, and I saw him lying on that bed near death, I felt vindicated in some horrible way. I was happy that he was in pain, for what he did to you.”

“Ethan--”

“He refused to give me any information,” he bowls over her attempt at reassurances, his voice strained. “Then he begged me to ease his suffering. It was his dying request and I walked away. As someone whose friends he had killed and injured, I can compartmentalize that. But as a physician, how can I continue treating patients? How can I work with them when I not only failed, but refused to ease another patient’s suffering?”

They reach the top and step out onto the cliff.

Over the edge, purple-tipped shrubs choke the rock shelves that stagger down the cliff until they reach the forest floor below. The valley dips low before them, cradled by a long line of mountains in the distance. They roll along in a lazy sort of wave, deepening to a hazy blue the farther they stretch. True to its name, the water of Lake Placid is calm and still, reflecting the foliage’s vibrant array of colors, fuschias and reds and oranges peppering the mountains that flank the lake. Pale crags of rock decorate some of their peaks, so bleached from the sun that they almost look like snow.

Keeping a firm grip on Jenner’s leash, she breaks the silence they’ve fallen into.

“Unfortunately, you suffer from something incurable.” At his answering noise of interest, she wraps an arm around his waist and hugs him close. “You’re human.”

His hand sweeps across her back, holding her tight.

“I’m sorry.”

She shoves down her need to use humor as an emotional crutch by mentioning this must be a record number of apologies for him. Instead, she lets her head rest on his shoulder.

“What for?”

“For burdening you with my problems, which pale in comparison to what you went through. It’s not fair to--”

“Hey,” she cuts him off, hugging him tighter for a beat. “You can’t work through the trauma if you discount it like that.”

“You sound just like Naveen.”

“Smart minds think alike.”

Her heart squeezes at his familiar, half-formed huff of laughter. They spend a good length of time at the top, enjoying the peaceful view and watching clouds roll in from the west. Eventually, her stomach growls and he teases her about doing strenuous activity on an empty stomach. Jenner leads the way as they start back down the trail.

The two boulders and trailhead sign come into sight just as the rain arrives.

Fat raindrops plod the canopy above, drumming through the leaves and onto them. Ethan lets out an undignified yelp when cold rain lands on him, prompting a full-throated laugh from Sloane. They race down the path, sprinting between the boulders and down the road. Jenner barks with excitement when she tugs free of Sloane’s grip and barrels ahead of them.

They reach the cottage, Jenner at his heels when Ethan rushes inside for towels. He makes it to the hall closet before realizing that Sloane isn’t following. Retracing his steps, he returns to the little porch and finds her standing out on the front path. Her arms are stretched out beside her as the rain soaks her clothes and hair. He sets the towels down on the rocking chair and approaches her, raising his voice to be heard above the downpour.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s silly,” she answers with a shrug. Contentment and grief coat the words; it’s an effort to push them free of her throat. This close, he can see the rivulets of water running along her trembling lips. “But I was waiting for this. It’s been sunny every day since… and all I wanted was for it to rain.”

It’s not difficult to recall her angry words as they drove away from Danny’s funeral.

“It’s not silly.” Reaching for her, he takes her hand and guides her under the porch and out of the storm. “Silly would be how I worry about you constantly now -- that if I leave you alone, or you go off somewhere without me knowing, that it could happen again. I’m terrified, Sloane, of losing you again. Every patient room you step into could lead to another disaster, and it might be another one that I can’t fix.”

He keeps busy while he talks, picking up a towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. With another he dries her hair; his fingers clench and release the wavy strands like he saw her do a lifetime ago in their shared hotel room.

“It’s why I’ve been keeping tabs on you this week,” he says with no small amount of embarrassment. “Why I’ve been following you around the hospital. It’s how I knew to go to the office yesterday. And I know that’s awful and overbearing of me, and I understand on every sensible level that you’re safe. But there’s that one percent of something that keeps me at it.”

Sloane reaches up for the towel in his hands and tugs it away, letting it drop to the ground. He cups the back of her head and settles her against his chest, right against his heart where she belongs.

“I’ve spent enough years being a cynic and a pessimist, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Ethan clears his throat, swallows, and steadies on. “But when I held your hand that night, I didn’t think about what the next hour would bring, because I wasn’t sure if that next hour would include you. And to have to stand there and watch you -- you, who’s always brave in the face of death and danger -- accept your fate in those last hours, that scared me more than anything.”

“I knew it would hurt more if I begged you all to save me.” She feels the shaky rise of his chest, the tension of the muscles as he goes rigid at her words. “But I’m glad I wasn’t alone.” Her cheeks are wet with tears -- whether his or hers, she isn’t sure. “I -- my grandma, we didn’t make it to the hospital in time before she passed, and she died alone, and I know that hurt my grandpa more than anything. So I’m glad you were with me.”

When he speaks, the passion and heartache in his tone unfurls something in her chest.

“I don’t want to waste what time we have left. I’m tired of playing pretend. I’m tired of holding myself back. I don’t know what to do, other than tell you that I care about you, and that I want to be with you. And I know it’ll be messy, and I don’t have all the answers for how we go about it, but I know that I want you so goddamn much, Sloane, that I don’t care anymore.”

Gripping his wet shirt, she pulls him down for a kiss. He answers in kind, his lips dragging against hers; his hands come up to frame her face, to keep her close as he drops another kiss, then two, then three against the corner of her mouth. The roar of the rain turns to a muffled drum as they fumble their way through the door and down the hall.

The bedroom is lit only by the tall windows, reflecting what weak sunlight manages through the cloudy sky. A wall of fog floats between the trees, blocking out the rest of the world. Sloane leans down to the nightstand and flicks on the Tiffany lamp. Honeyed shafts of light fill the space, warming the room with their glow.

Ethan peels their wet clothes away, stripping the both of them bare. His lips cruise every inch of her damp skin; she shivers at the cool, stagnant air of the bedroom, then again at the heat of his mouth as he kisses her shoulder, her breast, her belly. He guides her to the bed and she sinks onto the soft mattress, the sheets smelling of them: his soap and her shampoo, his aftershave and her lotion. It’s a scent she wants to wake up to every morning.

“I never got to take my time with you,” he laments as he lays her down. Goosebumps follow in his wake as he runs the backs of his knuckles down her throat. He cups one breast and then the other, brushing the pad of his thumb over her pebbled nipples. Mesmerizing, he thinks, of the sweet noises she makes and the way her hips shift in time to his touch.

“We’ve got time,” she assures him, her fingers trailing up and down his ribs. She’s unable to hide her grin when he squirms, obviously ticklish around his sixth and seventh rib. Lifting up onto his knees just enough to capture her hands, he presses her to the bed and takes a long moment to admire.

Frizzled from the rain, her strands spread across the pillow and dampen it -- no doubt the one that he’ll end up being forced to sleep on. The light dusting of freckles across her nose and shoulders are more pronounced in the yellow light. There’s the scar along her inner thigh from climbing over chicken wire to feed the hens, the burn mark on her inner arm from fumbling a hot pan of cinnamon rolls. He kisses the sharp cut of her cheekbone and the soft skin of her stomach, reveling in every facet of her. He takes a deep breath, and then another; they feel like his first real ones since approaching the window of that damned room.

Her hands, along with the rest of her, squirm underneath his hold.

“Ethan.”

He doesn’t ask what she’s demanding; he takes one of his hands back and urges her thighs apart, pressing the heel of his palm against her and circling her wet heat. Her response is almost as erotic as the act itself; her knees jerk up, her muscles stuttering as her body rolls into his touch. Her freed hand snakes down her body to circle his wrist, her nail digging into his pulse point as she directs him how she likes. Increasing the pressure, Ethan can feel his cock growing harder as he watches her enjoyment. He’s too enthralled by her; his grip loosens on her other hand. In a flurry of movement, she’s got an arm around his neck and hauls him down to her for a messy kiss. He retaliates by changing gears; he slides two fingers inside her, delighted at the strangled moan that escapes her.

“Is it good?” he asks, unable to stop the smarmy grin on his face.

“Yes,” Sloane breathes out. She rolls her hips down when he curls his fingers and strokes her with all the precision in the world. “Yes, it’s good, it’s--” the words are lost to the crest of another wave as it pounds through her. She squeezes his wrist in a vice-like grip, keeping him where she needs him, and croaks out his name as she comes.

He eases the glide of his fingers, but doesn’t stop until he’s got her climbing again.

“God, you’re still so tight.” He nuzzles the arm she has planted against his shoulder, nipping at the sweat-tinged skin. Her fingers dig into his flesh in time with his thrusts. “So responsive, all for me.”

“Please,” she begs, “please, Ethan, I need--”

In a flash, he slides down her body, scoops up her hips, and drags the flat of his tongue across her. Sloane cries out, arching up into the wet heat of his mouth. His knees ache as he kneels before her and worships, coaxing hymns from her lips until she’s dragged under once more. Ethan eases her down from her high, running his fingers up and over her hip as her equilibrium returns. He rouses from his own arousal-induced haze at the sensation of fingers stroking through his hair.

“Come here.”

He goes, without question, into the circle of her awaiting arms. She meets him with a messy kiss, her tongue tracing the corner of his mouth. His blood pulses hot underneath his skin, knowing she’s tasting herself on his lips. One of her curious hands skims along his stomach and down to wrap around his cock.

“I want to make you feel good, too,” she murmurs, stroking him with a quick, little twist at the base, her thumb swiping across the swollen head. He barely holds it together, clenching his jaw to keep from thrusting into her hand like some horny teenager. “I… ever since that last time, you’re all I think about.”

“It’s the same for me,” he admits, too many emotions bubbling to the surface that he isn’t comfortable with declaring right now. Pressed against the long line of her body, he feels the vibration of her laughter when it comes, ringing through the room.

“Well, yeah, that too. I was mostly talking about when I masturbate, though.”

“Oh.” The word tumbles out before his brain has a chance to catch up and say something suave. It gets another giggle out of her, though -- and he finds that the taste of her laughter is even better than the sound of it. “Christ, Sloane,” he groans when he breaks their kiss, “tell me what you need.”

“You,” she says in a matter-of-fact way, as if he were stupid for expecting another answer.

Ethan slides an arm across her back, cradling her close, needing to feel her against every inch of him. He pushes into her soaked heat, his breath escaping him in a moan when she digs her nails into his shoulders. Giving her a moment to adjust to the stretch, he nips at the soft skin of her breasts, pleased with the rosy marks that bloom from his attention. One of her hands drifts down to his ass and squeezes.

“Move,” she begs.

At her command, he does; he wraps his free hand around her hip and uses the leverage to drag his cock in and out of her with short, heavy strokes. Her legs come up to encircle his waist, her body rocking up to meet his. The new angle is sweeter, deeper than before. Sloane gasps at his next thrust. Words fall free from his lips, nothing more than murmurs of praise. She writhes and keens underneath him; he has enough wherewithal to slide a hand down between them, knowing exactly what she needs. The rhythmic clenching of her sends him overboard with her, the both of them are dragged under the warm sea of pleasure. He pulls out and collapses next to her, nestling close when she slings an arm across him. The room spins around them as they wait for their breathing to turn to normal.

As his heart rate slows, he finally hears it: the rain, beating steadily against the tin roof, a cocoon of white noise that shelters them from the outside. Before he can speak, he hears another familiar sound. Sloane rubs her nose against his shoulder and chuckles.

“What was it that you said about strenuous activity on an empty stomach?”

His laughter echoes through the room. After some poking and prodding, he manages to convince her to get out of bed and meet him in the kitchen. Ethan is reprimanding Jenner for dancing around his feet and gathering ingredients when she wanders in, dressed only in his button-down and a pair of wool socks. He manages to not whack his head against the upper cabinets, but only just barely.

“Hey, you never showed me what you bought.”

He follows her finger to the little brown bag, still sitting on the bar where he dropped it off earlier.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he says.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” she replies in a sing-songy tone.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

He watches her sift through the tissue paper and lift the object out. The snow globe catches in the kitchen’s recessed lights. Inside the glass is an overly-contrasted photo of Lake Placid, looking out towards Whiteface Mountain and the surrounding Adirondacks. “I figured you could add this to your collection.”

Sloane looks up in confusion. “My collection?”

“When I visited your apartment, I noticed the one you had from Stockholm on your shelf. Now, the next time you travel, you’ll know what tacky souvenir to buy yourself.”

“Why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” she teases.

Setting the snow globe down on the table and away from Jenner’s interested nose, she crosses the kitchen and slides her arms around his waist. The kiss she gives him is gentle and sweet, her lips curled into a smile as they press against his; he wishes for a thousand more. “But that’s a good idea. Too bad I didn’t get one in Miami.”

He switches on the gas stove, glancing back at her with an impish grin.

“We could always go back.”

“You know,” she hums, “I like the way you think.”

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

There’s probably a reference to something recognizable in here, but the only one I can think of is a line from an Alan Jackson song (don’t ask, I’m just having fun).

#open heart #choices #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart fic #Kaila writes things #f: the mountain between us #also if you read this after 9/23 I did some minor editing on the backstory part because I forgot it's canon that MC has a brother

139 notes · View notes

anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 6

Tbh, not quite satisfied not writing so much angst (or this chapter in general), but it twas necessary to take a break from it...

Day 6 of @biodad-bruce-month event!

Chapter 6: Meeting the Justice League

Edit: I fixed the alias...

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

When Amira woke up, all she heard was yelling and shouting, causing her head to ache even more than what it did. Cradling her head, Amira slowly got up, noticing that she had her black gloves on, meaning she was still Ladybird.

They still don’t know her identity.

Good.

“-supposed to know that it was Bruce Wayne of all people!” Amira noticed it was the glowing man from before. He was sitting in what seemed to be a hovering green chair.

So he was a magic user...kinda like how she was.

Speaking of her father, where was he?

“I tried to warn you.” Another man muttered, running a hand through his hair. He wore a blue bodysuit, an ‘s’ for an emblem on his chest. “But you decided to jump ahead, disregarding my warning of a civilian-”

“I don’t follow the orders of a person who just self-appointed themselves as the leader.” Greenie sternly said, crossing his arms. “Wait a minute. Last time I checked-”

“Will the two of you stop arguing like children and restrain yourselves?” The woman from earlier spoke, Amira relaxing when the woman looked at her with soft blue eyes. “Ladybird is awake.”

Amira watched as the woman approached her, the two men following right behind her. “Hello little one. Sorry, Ladybird.” The woman sat next to Amira, Amira scooting a bit away from her. “I mean no harm. My name is Diana. Diana of Themyscira.”

Amira remained silent, looking between the three adults.

Who the hell were they?

“Maybe she only speaks French?” Greenie suggested.

The woman looked back at Amira with a smile.

“Est-ce que tu vas bien?” The woman asked her, Amira having to register her voice a bit before realizing what she was saying.

“I’m-I’m alright.” Amira responded, not missing the way both Diana and Greenie looked at her in surprise. “And I can speak and understand English perfectly fine...if that makes it easier for everyone.”

“A bilingual hero…” Greenie muttered.

“Multilingual, actually.” Amira wanted to say with a smirk, but held herself. “Who are you and where am I?” Amira held her tongue about asking about her father, knowing it might jeopardize her identity, if they didn’t know it yet.

“As I said before, my name is Diana.” Diana gestures to the two men standing in front of them. “These two gentlemen are Hal Jordan and Cla-”

“Superman.” Superman cut off, Amira noticing how skittish he was acting and how Diana gave him a quizzical look. Her heart stopped. Did he know?

“As for who we are, we’re the Justice League.” Diana explained, getting up and kneeling in front of Amira. “We happened to see the broadcast of your fight against Remediator and I have to say, you’re quite the skilled fighter.”

Amira felt heat rise to her cheeks, pressing her fingers against them. When was the last time she was ever praised? She couldn’t quite remember.

“Diana, you broke her.” Hal pointed out, Diana glaring at him before looking back at Amira.

“Usually, we wouldn’t come in direct contact with other heroes from other countries, but I just had to go to Paris to greet the new Ladybug holder.”

At those words, Amira felt her blood freeze. She quickly bolted off the sofa she was on and pushed it towards them, her yo-yo out and twirling in her hand as she glared at the three who looked at her wide eyed.

“How do you know about the Ladybug?” Amira asked, hating that her voice came out more like a growl than she wanted to.

“Ladybird, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Diana explained, rising slowly. “The thing is-”

“Her mother -Queen Hippolyta- was a Miraculous holder, the previous Ladybug holder to be more precise.” Superman cut to the chase, earning a huff from Diana. “She got giddy at seeing the Ladybug miraculous back in action after hearing countless tales about it from when she was a child.”

“Well, there’s that but-”

“He’s here!” A voice interrupted, the group turning to see who it was, but Ladybird never let her guard down. Yes, her yo-yo was now back on her hip, but her hand hovered over the dagger on her back.

Tikki didn’t approve of Ladybird having a sharp weapon on her person, but Amira argued that it was necessary. After all, a yo-yo could only do so much.

“Who’s here?” Hal asked, watching as Flash entered the room.

“The one and only-”

“Batman?” Superman asked, watching the Dark Knight enter the conference room.

When Clark had spoken Batman’s name, Diana noticed the way Ladybird tensed, Diana picking up on her change in stance. Ladybird was no longer in a defensive stance, her body now forgetting about keeping a distance from them. Now, Ladybird only had one thing in mind: escaping.

Just what was the relationship between Ladybird and Batman?

“Spooky? What are you doing here?” Hal asked, walking up to Batman. “Last I heard from you-”

“I’m here because of Mr.Wayne.” Batman spoke, looking at Amira. “He wants to know why three heroes thought it was a good idea to break into the civilian home he was visiting, nonetheless his friend’s home. While he’s not concerned about the damages, he is concerned about-“

“Odd way to show concern, sending Gotham’s vigilante instead of Mr.Wayne himself contacting you guys to give his piece of mind.” Ladybird said, everyone feeling the tension between the two...vigilantes?

Ladybug did say she wasn’t a hero.

“Wait-” Hal started, but shut up when Ladybird glared at him.

“Seeing as you have not else to say, Diana.” Ladybird addressed. “Why did you actually seek me?

Diana watched as Ladybird walked towards her, now standing between Batman and herself.

“Aside from paying my respects, I also wanted to ask you something very important.” Diana looked at her fellow members before continuing. “Do you want to join the Justice League?

Here at the WatchTower, you’ll have access to all the information everyone helps to collect, use our gyms for practice and a nice home to stay in. One of us could even mentor you if you would like. Oh! If you so choose to become a member, you will have to report everything that happens in your city. Of course, you’ll only be asked to do a daily report about the things in your area and be made to attend weekly meetings.”

Diana watched as Ladybird weighed in the pros of being a League member, watching her glance back towards Batman.

Just what was it that had Ladybird on edge?

“As intriguing the offer is, I decline.” Ladybird said, looking as Diana with narrowed eyes. “I won’t join your League of Heroes.”

“But Ladybird-” Diana started, only to stop speaking when Ladybird held up a hand.

“Yes, the offer is nice, but you mentioned having to make reports and sharing information. That is something I cannot do. I can’t just expose the information of every victim to Hawkmoth’s manipulation because it’s simply that, manipulation. These ‘villains’ are actually victims of Hawkmoth’s power, the people aren’t actually in control of their bodies once they are under it.

For that matter, I can’t risk the possibility of having one of you guys in Paris. Having to fight one of you isn’t something I want to do.” Ladybird reasoned.

“Okay, what if we agree to not step into your territory?” Hal asked, wondering what new excuse this girl was going to say.

“Highly doubt all of you will keep your promise. After all, the three of you stepped into Paris without a letter of advance. Using your excitement isn’t an excuse to just bend the rules to your favor. Rules and regulations are there for a reason. If the rules keep getting bent, what is the point of them then?”

“What about information? If I’m correct, you still don’t know much about-” Superman attempted to point out, but was stopped.

“I can handle manhunting my enemy on my own. Might take a while, but I rather do it alone. With less miraculous out for Hawkmoth to attempt to obtain, the more trump cards I will have at my possession.”

“Ladybird, please, reconsider.” Diana asked, holding Ladybird’s hands into her own. They were small. “We can help you. You're a child and you don’t deserve to have all this pressure on you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Ladybird slipped out her hands, now glaring at Diana.

“Did you ask me to join the League because you thought I couldn’t handle this?”

“I know you’re capable of handling-”

“Then why do you want me to join the League so badly? So that you can keep an eye on the Ladybug miraculous? Or is it because you don’t trust a child with the miraculous your mother once wielded?” Ladybird asked, waiting for Diana’s answer. She never got one, but from the look in her eyes, it seemed to have been the latter.

“Ladybird. Thank you for coming.” Hal said, earning a glare that seemed all so familiar.

“If I remember correctly, I was brought here against my will. Not to mention you were the first to greet me with an attack meant to knock me out.” Ladybird hissed, turning to Superman. “Can you walk me to your door? I need to leave. I have to patrol in a few minutes.”

Superman nodded, gesturing Ladybird to follow him.

As the two walked out the door, Superman couldn’t help but notice how Ladybird stood as far away as possible from Batman, even going as far as using him as a shield between the two of them.

“I’ll be guiding you to our zeta tubes. They’re how we get from place to place without the use of any type of vehicle. Comes in handy when you need to go to Paris and you live in the US.” Superman tried to lighten the mood, but only got a huff for an answer.

As the two continued to walk, Ladybird decided to speak.

“So, what’s your name? And I mean your real name.” she asked, Superman raising a brow. “It’s only fair for you to tell me your actual name when you already know mine is Amira Wayne.” Amira didn’t stop walking when Superman himself stopped.

She finally decided to when Superman wouldn’t recover from the shock. Turning around, Amira sighed. “It took me a while to remember you, but I vaguely remember your face from this one time I waited for my father to come back from patrolling. Aside from super strength, you also have very sharp hearing. I know you heard the conversation between my father and I.”

Superman gulped, knowing he had to tell her that yes, he knew she was Amira Wayne. That she was Bruce’s kid.

He had the biggest scoop of the year, of his entire career and he couldn’t say a single word because it could potentially get him killed. Because yes! He also just found out today that Bruce Wayne is Batman and just like the hidden child scoop, he couldn’t say anything because it meant death!

“Name’s Kent. Clark Kent.” Clark reintroduced himself, extending his hand for a handshake. Amira shook it.

“Kent from the Daily Planet?” Amira asked, a smirk coming to her face, Clark not liking that expression one bit. It looked eerily the same as her father’s. “I’m pretty sure you already know that you indirectly work under my father, yes?”

“Yes. Well aware.” Clark sighed. Damn Bruce and his countless wealth.

Now he wished he hadn’t heard the conversation from the apartment.

Diana had wanted to greet the new Ladybug holder, something that took Clark a few minutes to process as he absorbed the information.

After hearing Diana say she wanted to recruit the young hero, Clark made it his mission to go with her, seeing as it could be a potential story for the Daily Planet. Hal invited himself, Diana too eager to tell him no.

When the three made it to Paris, they were lucky enough to find the girl just entering her room, a red light enveloping the room before disappearing.

Diana wanted to quickly introduce herself to the new Ladybug, but Clark quickly stopped her when he heard Batman’s voice. Or at least the argument started with Batman’s voice, only for it to continue in Bruce’s.

When Hal asked if they could go now, Clark told them to wait since there was someone else in the room.

He kept listening to their arguing until the red light enveloped the room again, causing the three to become concerned.

Clark kept listening to the conversation, accidentally muttering that the person inside was going to possibly take the miraculous. A decision he regretted.

“Then we have to save her!” Diana voiced, rushing over to help her mother’s protege with Hal following her shortly behind.

“Diana, Hal! Wait!” Clark tried to call back, but the damage had already been done when Diana returned with an unconscious Ladybird and Hal. “What-”

“The other person in the room sedated him. Or made him go to sleep. One or the other.” Diana said. “I’m going to go on ahead.” In other words, Clark had to deal with the mess his two teammates left behind.

He had to deal with almost being killed by a kryptonite batarang Bruce had (for some terrible reason) after explaining to him why they were there.

Never again.

As Clark huffed upon recalling the events from earlier today, a blur came up to them. There, bouncing in front of them was Kid Flash.

“Superman! There you are! I heard we were getting a new recruit!” Kid Flash said with a smile. “Heard they were going to be the youngest one yet!”

Clark wondered how Kid Flash hadn’t said anything about- where was she? It wasn’t until he turned a bit that he saw her hiding behind him, her eyes looking at Speedy with curiosity.

“Well, we weren’t able to recruit her, but she’s right here.” Superman motioned Ladybird to come forward, which she attempted to do before Kid Flash dragged her out.

“You’re tiny! Probably younger than me too! Name’s West!”

“Ladybird.” Amira managed to say, still looking at Wally as if she had seen him somewhere before.

“Oh. We’re using our made up names.” Wally sheepishly said. “Name’s Kid Flash, but feel free to call me Wally!”

“Wally?” Amira repeated, Clark seeing tears pool in her eyes. “Wally...West?”

“Yu-” Wally stumbled back as Amira launched herself at him, hugging him. “What are you-”

A red light enveloped Amira, the girl dropping her transformation, looking at Wally with tears running down her face. “A...mira?” She nodded.

“Hi Wally. I’m sorry I never-” Her words were cut off as Wally hugged her back, squishing her in the process.

“If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me.” Clark stood there silently, watching as both teens kept crying into each other’s shoulders, not expecting Wally’s next words. “I should’ve begged Bruce to not send you to Paris. Especially when he didn’t even let you go to Jason’s funeral.”

Amira settled into her bedroom, surprised to see how quickly the league repaired her damaged skylight.

When Amira walked through the bakery doors, Tom and Sabine quickly pulled her into a hug, checking her for any scratches, Amira pulling away from the smothering attention.

“Feels so weird being in here. It’s so small compared to your room in Gotham.” Wally mentioned, deciding to sit on the bean bag near the door. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Aside from Father continuing to isolate me from the world? Terrible.” Amira spoke, placing down the box that held her earrings.

Thanks to Tikki telling her that she would not be able to see nor hear anything if she was renounced, Amira did just that.

As soon as she dropped her transformation, she renounced Tikki, making sure to limit what Tikki knew about her.

Yes, she trusted Tikki and in herself to not get her miraculous taken from her. However, not everything was set in stone and the possibility of having her actual identity being leaked by the Kwami was something Amira wanted to prevent at all costs. “I haven’t been able to contact Dick either.”

“Did he not give you his new number?”

“New number?” Amira asked, watching as Wally put the new number in her phone.

“He moved to Bludhaven around the same thing Bruce sent you here.” Wally flinched as Amira glared at him, although he knew who it was truly for.

“It’s been that long? And he never told me?” Amira whispered. What else didn’t she know about the things back home? “What about the new Robin? Do you know his name? Age? And my father. Is he part of the JL?”

“For that first one, I only know he’s younger than you. Nothing else. As for Batman, he turned the offer down before they were even able to finish their presentation.” Wally provided. “Amira, does...does your dad know you’re-”

“First one to find out.” Amira spat out, her phone deciding to go off at that moment. She sighed as she got up.

“Patrol?”

“Patrol.” Wally got up, hugging Amira one last time.

“Along with Dick’s new number, I up my number in there too. I’ll be there if you ever need me.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Amira said, smiling at him. Grabbing the miracle box, Amira headed to the skylight. But before she left, she turned to Wally. “It was nice being able to catch up. If you want, grab my black card from my desk. I never use it, but you can go ahead and use it to buy yourself some of the bakery’s pastries. Although if it’s cookies you want, I suggest the sugar ones. I made all of those.”

Amira giggled when she saw Wally dash for the bakery with a grin on his face.

Now facing Paris, Amira put on her earrings, Tikki appearing before her.

“Is it time to go on patrol, Marinette?” Marinette nodded.

“Tikki! Spots on!”

#maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #amira wayne

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years

Text

Bio!Dad Bruce Day 11-The (Vigilante) Talk

Over Thanksgiving, Marinette has happily settling into her room at Wayne Manor. Alfred had welcomed her with a smile and Tim had wrapped her into a hug. Dick had talked excitably at her and Bruce had called a welcome as he made his way in form work. The family didn’t realize how much noise they were making until a small boy stormed down the stairs. His face was pulled into a scowl and he had a katana gripped tightly in his hand. When he came face to face with Marinette, the little boy snarled. She looked at the 10-year-old and smiled at him. “hi! You must be Damian! It’s nice to finally met you, brother.” The boy looked her over and turned away.

“tt” Although it wasn’t the overjoyed welcome that she hadn’t gotten from the others, the Parisian still felt like the greeting from the child was a complement.

“No. No way. The kid hates everyone! How did you get him to like you?” the shock in Tim’s voice made Marinette giggle.

“You know Tim, there is such a thing as kindness, you should try it sometime.”

“Little Bit!”

“Nettttttttttt you’re going to make Tim cry!”

“good, he deserves it! That little boy didn’t come here for you to go after him!”

“um…are we forgetting that the demon Brat tried to kill me? “Marinette smirked at Tim’s offense.

“nope!”

When the others had disappeared (gone on patrol) for the night, Bruce pulled his youngest daughter into one of the smaller sitting rooms. “Marinette, we need to talk.” The girl tensed before sighing.

“is…is this about the…altercation this spring?” Bruce nodded solemnly. He could see his daughter bracing herself. “are you mad?” the quiet question made him choke.

“Mad? Why would I be mad? Marinette, you handled everything so. Well. I just wanted to go over something that come into play with that…pastime.” His daughter furrowed her brow in confusion. “you and I are not the only vigilantes in the family. The others just haven’t told you yet.” Her face lit up in excitement.

“you mean…you mean my brother? And Cass? And Steph?” Bruce nodded at her questions.

“yes. The entire family. Here, in Gotham, we all abide by a code.” Understanding flooded her face.

“what is the code?” there were nerves in Marinette’s voice, but the way she took the information he was throwing at her made him proud. Taking a deep breath, Bruce broke down what he made all the rules he had his children abide by when in the field. Partway through, Tikki settled on Marinette’s shoulder to be a part of the conversation. When Bruce was done, he looked at the two, waiting for questions. The Kawmii hovered to be eye level with the teen and the duo started to talk back and forth in rapid fire. The language they were using was not one that he was familiar with, however.

Marinette glared at her Kawmii where she sat on her nose. “no.” the goddess of luck sighed but followed her chosen’s lead in switching out of the guardian language and back to English.

“Marinette. You don’t have to live by the archaic rules that Master Fu enforced. You saw what happened to him! I don’t want you to alone too!”

“Tikki, as much as I love you, and I love that you care, I am not alone. I have my dad; I have my parents in Paris. I have my brothers, my sisters, and my friends. Hell, even my partner has been fantastic! This needs to stay as. It. Is.” Bruce cleared his throat, cautious. He had seen what Marinette was capable of doing when she was truly angry, he didn’t need that rage leveled at him.

“Marinette is there more going on?” the little goddess of luck took advantage of his attention.

“Yes! Marinette is the Guardian now! She won’t tell Chat and she’s trying to do the work of an entire order by herself!” his daughter froze. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Sure, Marinette had looked more tired, and yes, the girl had seemed more on edge. In his defense, Bruce mainly dealt with heroes and villain s outside of the office. The signs she had been showing were normal for that of a leader of a hero team when life went to the dogs. As he looked closer, Bruce noticed smaller signs that normally would go unnoticed. Tenser shoulders, paler skin. In fact, …

“Marinette…” Bruce paused. If he was right, then he knew how to help a little bit. If he was wrong, ALL of his daughters were going to eviscerate him. “Net, have you been eating? I know that when I start to get wrapped up in a case, I forget about basic needs. Sometimes I can loose entire weeks in the cave, subsisting on what Alfred brings me.” The 14-year-old had tensed, looking ready to defend herself or run if she had to. When Bruce mentioned his own habit, the teen had relaxed.

“I- yes. I do that too. Sometimes, Tikki isn’t enough to break me out of my thoughts. If there isn’t an emergency…” Bruce nodded in understanding.

“what does your partner do, when that happens?”

“wellllll”

“Marinette. For the love of all that is holy, please tell me that you know who each other are.” She flinched slightly at the change in his voice, before she fervently shook her head.

“the last guardian…he didn’t want us to know about each other. He didn’t want us to know more than strictly necessary, actually.” In that moment, Bruce saw red. Not only had this man thrown two teens into the fire and walked off, he had taken any form of support with him.

“Net, do you trust Chat Noir?” the noirette nodded.

“would you please take some advice?” she studied him before nodding hesitantly.

“when you two have the time, meet out of the suit. Know who each other are, and what each other’s downfalls are. Know how to help each other and how to keep the other in a space that is safe. It is so, so important to have someone to lean on. I have not only your siblings, but Alfred and the Justice League. I promise that if you need help, ever, I will do all I can to help. But you need someone on site. You need someone who understands nearby.”

“Is…is that why you have partners? So that if needed, you can step back?” the timidity in Marinette’s voice mad Bruce pause.

“Marinette are you present at every Alums attack? Even when your out of town?”

“I have to be. I…Ladybug is the only one who can fix everything afterwards. If I’m not there, people stay dead and business shut down and hospitals stay damaged and overflowing. If I’m not there, we don’t have any of our landmarks, any of the things that make Paris the city it is.”

“how are you getting back and forth? It takes too long to fly, right?” the younger vigilante hesitated and glanced at Tikki before pulling out a small jewelry box.

“I keep Kaalki's glasses with me. If there is an emergency, I teleport in, handle everything, and teleport out. I’ve been lucky so far, because no one has noticed.” There was a sound, as Bruce went to respond. When they turned, the two found Dick making his way into the kitchen, wearing a pair of joggers with his hair still wet. Marinette paused and put two and two together as she realized that her siblings must be getting back for the night.

When Dick stumbled into the kitchen at 3 am, he wasn’t expecting his little sister to still be up. Because of that, he had not fully changed back into his regular clothing. He had showered, of course. After flying over the city for hours though, the young adult was ready to go to bed. As he reached for a box of cereal and a bowl, he vaguely registered Bruce sitting at the counter. When Dick turned to see who was sitting besides his father figure, he froze. Sitting there looking completely unsurprised was- “Marinette.” He froze, he processed who was sitting at the counter, and exactly what time of night it was. “I. Um. Well…hi?” the sheepishness in his voice was clear. The younger noirette simply shook her head.

“early morning snack? I hadn’t realized how late dad and I had stayed up talking. I should probably head to bed so I can function in a few hours.” As the girl hopped up, Dick realized that Bruce looked…upset. Was…was Marinette using his interruption to get out of whatever conversation they had been having? If the girl’s blinding smile and small wave was anything to go by, the answer was most likely yes.

When Marinette joined the family the next morning at breakfast, her father raised an eyebrow at her from farther down the table. “did you sleep well after our unfinished conversation last night, Marinette?” Dick swung his gaze to look at her.

“so, I did interrupt something last night!” the guilty look Marinette flashed in his direction made him scoff. “sneak.”

“but I’m still your favorite, right?” he paused, considering her statement.

“you, missy, are on probation.” They laughed, before Bruce cleared his throat.

“After breakfast, you are coming to the office with me. We can talk on the way there. There is more to go over from last night.” The teen huffed and slumped into her chair but nodded all the same.

When the two were in the car, Marinette stared out the window. “what else is there to go over, dad?” the dejectedness in her tone made Bruce sigh.

“Marinette, hey,” he nudged her to get the girl to look over at him. “you aren’t in trouble. I just want to make sure that you are safe. I know exactly how hard this life is and I know how dangerous it is. I want to make sure that you are taken care of if anything happens.”

“I…I don’t know how to approach the idea of knowing who may partner is. We’ve lived in secret for so long, it’s hard to imagine a place where I can go to him outside of the suit. Or! What if he doesn’t like me without a mask on? I don’t want to hate him or have trouble working with him if I know him in real life and we don’t get along.” Bruce stayed silent, letting his daughter let her fears show through. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was nervous. She was always so confidant around him, that he forgot that she had a tendency to overthink.

“start slow. Explain to him that you met an older vigilante over some travels, and that you talked through some of your fears with them. Suggest meeting somewhere outside of the city to talk, and work form there. Find a place, together, where you can go and work on tracking down Hawkmoth. A base of sorts. Once you have the base work between yourself and your partner, ill send one of your brothers. I’ll send them under the guise of forming bonds with Ladybug and Chat Noir. With a man on the ground, I can help you in anyway you need. And,” here, Bruce shot her a small smile. “this way I wont be taking over. The Justice League isn’t taking over either.” Marinette hesitated, before nodding.

“I…I like that”

since i am a compleate chaotic mess, i decided to twist this topic a lil. that’ll probably happen tomorrow, too. that is, unless i decide to just use an alternate one. idk man, i have no plans at this point. everyhting is up to date on my AO3 account, wiht is under the same username, if you want to manuver over there, lol. ill add a link in the masterlist soon!

#b!dbwm2020 #b!dbwm #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #maribat #ml x dc #oops #this went off the rails #My writing

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dessarious · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt83

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

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“So, you want us to let you move into a mansion with Damian and absolutely no adult supervision?” Marinette blinked at her mother for a moment before frowning. There had to be someone coming to make everything look legit from Damian’s side right? Even if her parents would act as though they lived there Bruce Wayne would surely insist on an adult presence for appearances sake, right?

“I think someone from Damian’s family will be coming. Tim’s the CEO so he can’t stay indefinitely, but I believe someone should be coming to replace him.” She’d have to talk to Damian about that. It’s not like he had a shortage of siblings so they might rotate for all she knew. “Besides, the Kwami will all be there.”

Sabine gave her a flat look before running her eyes over the beings in question. Digg was trying to put the kitchen in order while Tom explained that everything was exactly where he wanted it, no matter how much the Kwami claimed things should be arranged by height, color, even weight at one point. Her father looked to be nearing the end of his rope. Primm was watching the light filter through the window, occasionally forcing it to refract as if through a prism and giggling to themself. Jett was watching and Marinette caught the Kwami of Darkness shatter the effect more than once and smirking when Primm pouted. Lyccen was… wait where was Lyccen? Before Marinette could get too concerned Lyccen stormed into the bakery from the apartment with a bag of chips in hand looking furious.

“Who even does this?” They held up the bag of chips and Marinette saw it was something Sabine’s side of the family sent them as a joke. Baked bacon cheese with seaweed flavor. “I’m the Kwami of Anarchy for crying out loud and I still would never do something like this!” Sabine just raised an eyebrow at Marinette.

“Well they’re not wrong. You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered about the sanity of some of the people coming up with different combinations of flavoring for things.” Okay, so the Kwami might be more like babysitting little kids, but it would still keep her out of trouble.

“Marinette, you may be the Guardian of these beings but I am still your mother and you’re still a minor. I’m not going to let you stay in a house with only other teenagers, gods that act like teenagers, and some unknown adult that may only be a few years from being a teenager themself. If Tom and I are the only adults who can be there because of your responsibilities we’ll make a schedule and hire help if we need to so one of us can be there.” Marinette frowned at the thought. She didn’t want to upend their lives and business because she suddenly couldn’t get around her home.

“Let’s talk to Damian and see what his family plans to do first. He and Tim should be here soon anyway to look over and set up the chair.” They’d had to go back to the apartment for some reason, but said they’d be along shortly. She hadn’t had a chance to ask what they were comfortable sharing with her parents. Given her mother’s hang up on age she wasn’t sure it would help her knowing they were also vigilantes.

“That’s it! Get out of my kitchen.” Marinette started at her father’s bellow. The man was normally a huge teddy bear but he did have his limit. Watching him shove Digg out of the kitchen was amusing by itself, but the Kwami’s confused expression made it hilarious.

“I was just trying to help, nothing in there makes sense.” Digg sounded moderately offended, but Lyccen laughed at him from across the room.

“Get off your high horse. Some artists need chaos to thrive and others just have a process that looks like chaos to those not in their head. I promise that kitchen is in perfect order, you just don’t understand how.” Digg frowned at them.

“That doesn’t make any sense if there is order, I would know.” Primm was the one who giggled this time.

“No you wouldn’t. You’re too much like Jett. Neither of you is interested in the world except for your function in it and you refuse to acknowledge that your effects might take shapes you didn’t intend. Humans constantly form chaos into order and turn order to chaos in new and interesting ways. You simply believe that since you are order personified you understand everything about it when in fact you have tunnel vision.”

Digg and Jett both glared at the Kwami of Light but they had already gone back to playing with the light coming through the window. Yeah, this was definitely going to be like looking after little kids. What exactly had Tikki been thinking? The Kwami she could renounce caused enough trouble but these four she was going to have to watch constantly. Her mother looked like she was about to burst into laughter

“Perhaps you don’t need to have an adult presence since you’ll have to be one. That won’t leave you much time to get into normal trouble. Unfortunately someone does need to watch them while you’re in school.” Marinette just wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She had a successful business and as soon as a couple contracts went through she’d be set for life monetarily unless she started being really reckless. Yet her parents still insisted she finish school.

“Well I could just transfer to homeschooling to be able to keep an eye on them.” Sabine rolled her eyes.

“If we let you home school you would just work on commissions non stop. You need to develop the ability to have a proper work life balance and allowing you to not surface from your work for weeks or months at a time won’t help that.” Marinette shared a look with Chloe and could see her thoughts mirrored on the other girls face. Chloe would never say it out loud because she didn’t want to anger the woman. Marinette had no such filter.

“This from a woman who lives in her business and has no social life outside of customers and one or two friends she hardly ever sees.” She knew as the words were coming out that she should just shut up but couldn’t make herself do it. The look on her father’s face was sheer terror and even the Kwami were looking at her like she’d completely lost it. She was starting to wonder if being crippled had destroyed her self preservation instincts. Maybe it was a form of depression? No. As she looked at her mother’s frighteningly blank face she knew exactly what had happened. All kids pressed their parent’s buttons to test limits and see how far they could go. She didn’t do it often but every time she did she overshot the line by a few meters at least. This would probably go down as one of her worst decisions ever.

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #Damian Wayne #bffmaridami

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