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peaceisadirtyword · 1 year

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Pull the trigger III (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello❤️ this is the third part of pull the trigger! I’m glad you guys are liking it🥹 I hope you are patient because I said slowburn and it really is a slowburn😂 thank you so so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it🫶🏼

ps. I had it scheduled for 20.00 but Tumblr didn’t post it🥲 so sorry for the delay!

Warnings: another argument x2 (y/n is not ivar’s biggest fan), mention of possible SA...

Words: 3129

Read on AO3

Fic masterlist

You were never late. You always left home with enough time to get to class and sit on your favourite seat before anyone else entered the classroom. That gave you time to open your laptop, read some of the notes you had taken during the latest class -the ones that you always promised you'd read over the weekend but never did- and even reply to some texts before Alfred (and the rest of your classmates) arrived. But that day Astrid's girlfriend had spent the night, and as she was in her last year of the local cooking school and made the best breakfasts you had ever tried in your entire life, you were late.

Thank God you always showered before breakfast.

You met the Scandinavian History professor at the door. He looked at his watch and raised an eyebrow at you in disapproval, but after you shot him an apologetic smile, he gestured for you to enter the classroom before him. Muttering a thank you, you quickly entered, immediately scanning the room in search of your favourite seat.

Which was taken.

You glared at Alfred, who sat next to the girl that was now occupying your seat, and he shrugged with a pout. That day every single person enrolled in the course had decided to attend, of course.

You sighed in relief when you spotted an empty seat, but the sigh nearly turned into a whine when you saw who sat next to it.

As the professor seemed not to be in his best mood and as you considered it would be too impolite to leave the classroom when he had offered you to enter before him, you walked slowly to the empty seat, ignoring the people's stares and especially ignoring Ivar's little smirk when you sat down next to him.

The professor started talking, and you opened your laptop and pretended not to even know about his existence as he kept staring at you. Finally, you looked at him with your lips pressed together. His ocean eyes, framed by long, black eyelashes, seemed to mock you as you glared at him.

“What?" you whispered, narrowing your eyes at him. Ivar shrugged, and looked back to the blackboard, where the professor was writing some dates in silence.

You stared at him. He had his laptop opened, but he wrote on paper. Even if his handwriting wasn't the best, he wrote quickly as the professor spoke, Ivar's eyes never leaving the paper and he seemed to remember every single thing he was saying. He even added some things, and his concentration was hypnotising for you. As you always sat a few rows behind him, you never actually saw him in class, and thought he'd probably be scrolling down his phone or distracted on his laptop, like the majority of your classmates.

Suddenly, he raised his head, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. Fuck.

Quickly, you looked away, to your empty word file that you had opened to take some notes. Clearing your throat, you typed on your keyboard the dates and the names the professor was saying, even if you had missed some things, you'd just google it afterwards, as always.

You didn't need to look at Ivar to know he was smirking again. Clenching your jaw, you tried to ignore his mere presence while he kept writing down his notes, he seemed to go faster than you, which annoyed you to no end.

It was during the third time you were caught staring at him, after surrendering and accepting the fact that you weren't focused and it would be better to just wait and ask for Alfred's notes during lunch, when he finally parted his lips and whispered, so low that you were sure you were the only one hearing him:

“See anything you like?"

You pressed your lips together, not really understanding why you wanted to yell at him and his annoying smile so bad. Well, he's an asshole.

“No, thank you"

“Do you find me more interesting than the unification of Denmark by king Harald Blåtand?"

“No" you rolled your eyes, and Ivar chuckled.

“Seems like it" he shrugged “Are you trying to copy my notes then? If you ask me nicely, I might give them to you"

“I would never ask you for anything" you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep the volume down to avoid annoying your professor more than you had already done.

“Good, because with those manners, I wouldn't give it to you" he rolled his eyes “In any case, you look distracted" he looked briefly at your screen, a few words typed around the file you had opened with no connection or context whatsoever “And you got that date wrong, the one about the Jelling runestone... Are you thinking about going back to that idiot's bed so soon? Is that why you were late this morning?"

“Shut up" you glared at him “I woke up in my own bed, for your information, but that's none of your business" you moved your laptop away from him so he couldn't see the screen.

“I should have guessed that, you look too uptight to spend the night in someone else's bed" he shook his head, almost like he was disappointed, but the amusement in his blue eyes told you a different story.

“Excuse me?" you gasped, maybe a bit louder than you intended. Your reaction only seemed to amuse him even more, his eyes returned to his notes and he kept writing, almost like he forgot you as soon as he tore his eyes off of you.

When you looked away though, you were aware of the stern look the professor sent your way, so you had to swallow your anger and go back to your notes, typing the new words and dates that had appeared on the blackboard. Finally, the professor shook his head and sighed, continuing his explanation. You could feel Ivar chuckling next to you, but you kept your mouth shut and focused on ignoring him for the rest of the class. You knew that next time the professor would expel you from the classroom for disturbing him if he saw you distracted again. Not Ivar, though, he wouldn't even dream of scolding his favourite student, the brilliant Ivar Lothbrok.

_____________________________________

“He called me uptight, Alfred!" you scoffed, still very annoyed, as the two of you sat down on a lovely table next to a window inside your favourite café near university. It was a relaxing place, where you usually read or studied, or listened to your favourite playlist as you worked on some essays. Always accompanied by your favourite sandwich or a cinnamon roll and a cup of tea. That day, though, you weren't especially relaxed.

Alfred looked amused as you ranted about how much of an idiot that boy was.

“To be fair, Y/N, you're not too likely to spend the night in someone else's bed, especially Erik's... Why the hell did you even kiss him?"

“What's that supposed to mean?" you frowned, crossing your arms “And hey, I can hook up with whoever I want, Erik is not that bad!"

“It means" Alfred shot you his diplomatic smile, the one he always used when he was about to say something you wouldn't like but that you needed to hear and hoped you wouldn't hate him afterwards “That you are not the type of person that would sleep in a guy's bed when you have class the next day, and you definitely wouldn't stay until after he's awake" he shrugged “It's not inherently bad, it's just not you, especially if that guy can't maintain a proper conversation with you... Seriously, Erik?"

“What's so wrong about him?" you scoffed “Everyone rolls their eyes and shakes their head when I mention Thora shouldn't be fooling around with Hvitserk Lothbrok but I hook up with someone and suddenly they're not good enough?"

“It's not that" Alfred shook his head with a sympathetic smile “You never talk about him, not as much as you do when you actually have a crush on someone, and I've seen you talking to him, you look bored, you even yawned the last time!" he laughed “Besides, Erik doesn't have a good reputation, Hvitserk might be a jerk sometimes but at least there's no rumours of him taking advantage of drunk girls"

“Now who's being unfair?" you raised an eyebrow "I do find him interesting, he's very different from me, so we can learn a lot from each other" you shrugged "And, those are just rumours, there's also rumours about Hvitserk Lothbrok killing people and I don't see anyone freaking out"

Alfred shrugged again.

“All this 'opposites attract' thing is fine, Y/N, but you actually need some common ground for these things to work... And you have no common ground with Erik, you just have some free time and are scared of loneliness"

You gasped.

“Who asked you to psychoanalyse me?"

“I'm not..." Alfred sighed “I'm just saying that I don't think that guy is good for you, I care about you, you're my best friend and I want you to be happy and find someone, like I did" he smiled softly “But I guess, you need to make your own mistakes to keep learning"

“You sound like my grandfather" you rolled your eyes, not letting the conversation become too deep. The familiar itch in your throat and the burning of the tears in your eyes were too much to handle in public, especially in front of Alfred.

You noticed he stared at you for a couple of minutes after you ended the conversation and started scrolling down the digital menu before the waitress came to your table, with a smile on her lips.

Your eyes scanned the prices, biting down your lip. They had to raise the prices for the food, which you understood as it was a small, family-run business, but it was becoming more and more difficult for you to eat there and pay the bills every month.

Alfred looked at you again, and sensing your hesitation, he ordered your usual favourite before you could open your mouth. When the waitress left, you glared at him.

“My treat" he winked at you. He didn't add anything else, luckily, but you knew what he was thinking. You made a mental note to invite him to the cinema or something like that when you were able to pay for it.

“Thanks" your shy smile told him you weren't truly annoyed or angry at him.

“I could talk to Ubbe, maybe he could tell me when there's an open position and I could give him your CV. It's not your dream job, I know, but they pay very well and..."

“I'd rather starve" you replied, rolling your eyes. Alfred laughed then, assuming the defeat with a shrug.

“That pride of yours, Y/N, is your worst enemy"

_________________________________

You snuggled in your couch with your laptop on your lap, your favourite sitcom playing in the background as white noise while you typed on your keyboard. A warm blanket kept you cosy and your eyes half closed while you researched some things for class. Thora was in his room, alone or with Hvitserk, you didn't really know because you arrived after her. Astrid was with her girlfriend and Ingrid texted you earlier telling you that she would be going on a date with a guy she met on Tinder and that she'd be back for dinner.

Even if you were trying your best to appear completely fine with the fact that you now practically spent your days all alone, looking for temporal jobs online that you could balance with your classes and not really knowing what to do with your future, so they would keep going with their lives without having to stop to check on you constantly, some days were harder than others.

That day, after the fight with Ivar Lothbrok and his bodyguard from the weekend and the little conversation you had with him in class, especially after having lunch with Alfred, who seemed to know what you were thinking and feeling all the time, you were particularly sensitive.

A part of you wanted to call Erik, knowing he'd come if you asked him, but he wouldn't offer comfort, just sex, and for that you already had your vibrator, which would probably offer you way better results.

And, to be honest, you weren't in the mood to deal with him.

The doorbell rang. You hesitated, thinking that as you weren't waiting for anyone, maybe if no one opened that door they'd leave. But you instantly regretted it, sighing before pausing the series, leaving your laptop on the couch and standing up, checking your reflection on the mirror next to the door before opening.

And your jaw dropped in disbelief when you found those eyes you were starting to hate looking at you.

“Hello" Ivar smiled mockingly at you, bowing his head softly and tilting his head.

After blinking a couple of times, you parted your lips and licked them before speaking.

“What are you doing here?" you blurted out, scoffing "How did you get our address?"

He laughed then, almost like you had said the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“I came to collect my dear brother" he shrugged “Our mother asked me to, and I figured he'd be here, it's not the first time I've been forced to find out an address to take my brother away from a girl's bed"

“I don't know if Hvitserk is here" you crossed your arms, but a groan and a loud giggle coming from Thora's bedroom answered you.

Ivar raised an eyebrow at you and shrugged.

“I think that was a pretty good confirmation" he pushed the door open, and you had to step back into the flat again so you could put some distance between the two of you. Ivar entered the living room leaning on his crutch and closing the door behind him. You gasped in disbelief and turned to look at him.

“I didn't say you could wait inside"

“I invited myself" he shrugged, walking to the couch and sitting down, leaving a black backpack on the floor next to it “As you're being a terrible hostess"

“I'm not a hostess" you argued “This is my home, Lothbrok, I'm the boss here, not you, so drop the cockiness"

“Will you at least offer me a drink while I wait for my sex-addict brother?" he pouted, ignoring your words.

“No" you closed your laptop.

“I'm thirsty, I'd like a glass of water" he tilted his head, his wide eyes fixed on yours and a small smile curving his lips.

“Then you can get up and grab one yourself, I'm not your servant" you shot him a fake smile, immediately rolling your eyes. Ivar's smile faded. This time your smile was genuine, a strange feeling of triumph replacing your annoyance for a few seconds “You're not so brave and cool without your bodyguard, are you?"

“Whitehair is waiting for me in the car" he shrugged “I figured I'd leave him there as you two clearly don't get along"

“Nice, well, I'm not your lapdog and I will not wag my tail, bark and sit when you order me to, so don't treat me like it, you're in my house, here it doesn't matter how much money you have, or how dangerous and important you think you are"

Ivar looked a bit annoyed now, which he deserved, in your opinion, because he had been annoying you for the entire day.

“You're obsessed with my family's money" he rolled his eyes “Hvitserk told me you hated us for some reason"

“For many reasons" you rolled your eyes “I don't hate you, I'm just tired of everyone treating you like you're some kind of royalty around here, it's just... Indifference"

“I don't recall even talking to you before this weekend" he shrugged “And here you are, acting like I just killed your entire family and forced you to watch, I feel like this" he pointed first to you and then to himself “Is personal, love, almost like one of my brothers fucked you and then never called you back when they promised they would" he frowned “If that's what happened let me tell you, you're not the first nor the last one going through that, you'll get over it" he winked at you and you let out a forced laugh, shaking your head.

“As if I'd ever believe anything that came from you or anyone from your family"

“Trust me, we can be very convincing" his smirk, that smirk you hated with your entire being.

“You love to think you're the big bad guy that everyone is scared of, right?" you replied “It's ridiculous"

Ivar hummed, nodding before leaning on his crutch and standing up. You stepped back, suddenly a bit intimidated by him hovering over you, watching you like a hawk that is about to catch a squirming rabbit.

“I don't love to think it" he muttered “I am"

You rolled your eyes again and opened your mouth to reply when someone cleared their throat.

Hvitserk looked amused when you looked away from Ivar. Thora was beside him, her eyes widened and a confused expression on her face.

“I didn't think you'd actually come up here, brother" Hvitserk chuckled “At least you had time to get to know us a bit better, Y/N"

You stayed silent, because the only thing you had on your mind at that moment were insults.

“Hurry up, we're late" Ivar pushed his brother to the door, and only turned around to grab his backpack and open it, throwing a few paper sheets on your table “The notes I took during today's class" he pointed at you “i think you need them more than me" the smirk again, this time accompanied by a wink.

When the door closed behind them, Thora looked like she was about to burst out laughing and you were seeing red.

“Who does he think he is?" you whispered, glaring at the notes he just left on the table.

“I don't know Ivar that well, but Hvitserk said he'd like you"

“Oh, yes, he loves me" you rolled your eyes, sitting on the couch again, she sat next to you with a small smile on her lips.

“If we get married you'll be my maid of honour and Ivar would be Hvitserk's best man"

You turned your head with narrowed eyes.

“Are you getting married?"

Thora laughed, shaking her head.

“It was a joke, Y/N"

“Well, it's the unfunniest joke I've ever heard"

She kissed your cheek.

“I'll make dinner, should we watch Shrek?"

___________________________________________

Tags: @istorkyou @barnes-lothbrok @naaladareia @youbloodymadgenius @southernbe @yummycastiel @nothingtolosebutweight @noway4u @cdauni @heavenly1927 @ivarhoegh @biancathecool @helleiaiwritting @marvelsangels @ironynoticony

#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #ivar x reader #vikings #vikings imagine #modern vikings #pullthetrigger

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valeskawhore · 2 years

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Imagine; part two of— Gotham villains with a vampire s/o! Part one here!

2/4, this serious includes; Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska, The Penguin and The riddler.

Jeremiah Valeska 💜

-This man was skeptical.

-After all, vampires don’t exist! There is science to prove his logic!! What are you not understanding??

-He’s so close minded and paranoid smh. But in his eyes, it keeps him sAfE. Lil bitch tbh

-Still though, He found you absolutely breathtaking. Whatever you were, you have him wrapped around your finger. Your smooth skin, your ambitious eyes, your aura, just every little thing about you was different from the rest.

-You stood out.

-There you were.. you looked so peaceful sitting in front of the fireplace. Reading a book in silence with the most gentle smile on your face, you were at peace with your life.

-Taking a good vacation at Wayne manor, visiting your nephew Bruce.

-An old friend of the family you were of course. You’ve known Bruce his entire life and saved his father from a Bomb threat at Wayne manors opening party 50 years ago.

-Alfred had let you in. He was happy that you decided to accept his invitation to the manor because, in his eyes, you were exactly what Bruce needed right now. A loving family member to comfort him in his own time of need.

-Alfred knew what you were of course, how could he not? He started working for Bruce’s father around the same time you had first met the man.

-It’s kinda hard not to notice when you see the person you’ve known your entire career not age a single day.

-(Alfred had the biggest crush on you back then but shh! That’s another story for another time.)

-They we’re both fast asleep when Jeremiah had broke into the manor. Simply wanting to watch Bruce sleep, nothing more..

-But then he found you instead.. or rather, you found him..

-He was creeping around the manor trying to find Bruce’s room when he entered the living room with too much noise and was all of a sudden pinned to the nearest wall with beautiful darkened e/c eyes threatening his.

-He gasped as you dug your nails into his throat, daring him to move. You spoke slow, threatening him, but yet your voice was so angelic— Jeremiah couldn’t find himself to be scared of you??

-“Wanna tell me why Gotham’s #1 Villain broke into Wayne manor?” You asked, hovering your teeth above his throat, he gulped.

-Instead of responding, Jeremiah laughed like crazy, shaking his head. Who were you?? Why are you here and most importantly, why are you so fucking intoxicating??

-You sighed, letting him go. He flopped to the floor still laughing like crazy but replaced that with a gurgled cough when you rib kicked him.

-He rolled over smiling, “OooOooo darling~”

-“Shut the hell up!” You seethed, “And keep it down! Bruce is trying to sleep you fucking moron!”

-“I’m not worried about Bruce right now, dearest. I’ve found something new to play with.”

-“Oh really? Hm?,” you faked curiosity, tapping your chin with your forefinger still glaring down at the man. “And who’s that?”

-“Well.. you of cour-sh-hg“

-Another blow to the ribs. This fucker really had it coming anyways. Killing all those people on live television? Of course you knew who he was??

-Jeremiah Valeska… tweedle-fucking-dum to Jerome Valeska, his twin who also raised hell on Gotham.

—“My my..” he smiled up at you with a wide smile, whipping the blood from his mouth with his shirt cuff, “You really are a sight for sore ribs, Darling.”

-You glared, “Aren’t you a charmer?” He smiled.

-General Head-cannons-

-When you both do get to know each, Jeremiah is very sweet.

-It took some convincing.. like- a lot of convincing- for him to accept the fact that your a literal vampire.

-it goes against all his beliefs and research! He’s dumbstruck in all honestly.

-Tho in his eyes, your perfect.. to both his plans and to his romantic life.

-Super speed, strength, healing, eyesight etc-

-You’re exactly who he needs to become his new proxy! Ecoo was kicked to the Curb the night you both met! (Gun shot to the fore head but yanno)

-Besides that, he’s shy. He’ll never admit it but let’s be honest to ourselves people—

-He’s never been in a relationship.

-You figured this out when he told you about his life, pre-spray. How he went into hiding under a fake name and took all kinds of precautions to hide from his older brother Jerome.

-The guy just sounded like a virgin.

-Then he let it slip one night accidentally. You both were tipsy (more so, him then you cause— well you know) but it slipped out that he has never had his first kiss?

-You side eyed him, trying to figure out if this was true or not but from the massive blush that spread across his white cheeks, you knew.

-The next morning was even funnier. It was like a comedy show with a hungover Jeremiah and definitely not a light weight s/o.

-(You’ve been drinking for literal centuries)

-“Hey handsome, have fun last night?” You smiled, as he wobbled into the makeshift kitchen he had in the bunker.

-He winced, holding his head but still wobbling towards you. “Hush dear,” he grumbled, coming to hug you from behind.

-“I have a massive headache.” He mumbled into your neck, arms slipping around your waist to hold you tight.

“I bet.” You smiled, “But heyyy, at least I waited, right?”

-“For?” He mumbled.

-“—us to have our first kiss, we gotta pop that cherry sometime.”

-The blush that spread across this man’s face :,)

-“I uh- don’t know what your talking about-“

-“oh hush, I waiting all night just so you’d remember it!”

—-

-He’d want you to turn him.

-Jeremiah has abandonment issues, like bad. After his mother. (Only because he was such a big mamas boy growing up.)

-He’d wanna be stuck with you forever, to thrive together and rule Gotham for years.

-He’d plan out a huge wedding and after party. Inviting every evil face around.

-He’d want Bruce to come even, and the poor boy would for you.

-Even if Bruce doesn’t approve of your husband, he’d still love you but dread the awful fact that he’s now technically related to Jeremiah.

-Once Jeremiah realizes this, well then.. he’s going to want to be you even more.

——-

I hope this was ok! People where asking for a Jeremiah version and I finally got around to it!! <333

@rabbiteggz

@rottenecstasy

#gotham #jeremiah valeska #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #fuck #funny story #gotham oswald #jeremiah valeska x reader #yandere gotham x reader #yandere jerome valeska #jeremiah valeska imagine #yandere #funny content #vampress #vampire #vampire x human #gotham incorrect quotes #jeremiah x reader

214 notes · View notes

lily-drake · 2 years

Note

[Timari idea with a side of Batfam salt, only a tiny bit] Tim leaves Gotham and the Batfam after a bad/dumb argument. No matter where they look Tim has covered his tracks and doesnt want to be found. They never give up hope of finding him though, at least to apologize. Years later they are in Paris looking into the famous MDC for outfits for an upcoming event (she couldn't go to Gotham due to recent 'health' issues) and stopped at a barkery on their way. They just weren't expecting to find Tim behind the counter kneeding dough with his celebrating in-laws, gorgeous three month pregnant wife and his three year old daughter giggling as she sprinkled flour on him.

Ditched and Hitched

It was very hard to make this light, so I made it medium.

“None of you understand what the problem is!”

Tim screamed at his family as they all gathered in the Batcave. All he wanted was time off, he needed the time off, but they said ‘no’!

“And tell us Drake,”

Damian replied snidely as he glared at the man in front of him.

“What is this problem that you have encountered that not even you and your worthless mind need a year away from protecting your city?”

Tim glared at the child, glared at his whole family. He fiddled with the silver band that he always wore under his glove, he wore it in the open too. ‘World’s Greatest Detectives’ his butt. There was a reason they did everything small and behind the scenes. The only people that knew were Cassandra, Alfred, and Jason since they were the only ones he could trust. Unfortunately, neither were here at the moment, Cass being in Hong Kong and Jason was on a mission with the Outlaws. He knew he should have waited for one of them to be here to back him up, but he couldn’t! He needed to leave by tomorrow, the day was getting closer and he had to be there!

“Look, I can still help with cases, but I won’t be here in person to do them. All I need is some time, why is that so bad?!”

“You know exactly why Tim.”

Batman all but growled, his lenses narrowing into small slits that would intimidate anyone that didn’t know who he was. Tim growled and pulled at his hair in frustration,

“I’m not like you Bruce! The mission doesn’t always come first for me! I’m not trying to end up miserable like you are!”

Tim yelled, regret immediately coursing through him. The cave was silent, but no, Tim had the right to be angry, he deserved to be able to finally gre himself if this!

“I’ve done so much for all of you! I’ve done every task, followed every rule, I’ve done nothing wrong! When Damian tried to kill me continuously and all I did was defend myself, I’m the one who got lectured to ‘be the bigger person’! When Bruce was presumed dead and I had proof that he was still alive you said I was insane and threatened to send me to Arkham! And when I proved that I was right and brought him back I didn’t even get a single apology! I run your d* business every single day with no complaints, I help you with last minute cases even though I’m already in the middle of other important things! I’ve done so much, and when I ask for one simple thing, I’m denied!”

Tim panted for breath, face flushed scarlet with rage. It was dead silence, a silence where even the small minuscule drops of water that dripped from the stalactites could be heard as if amplified by some kind of speaker.

Dick’s face was pale in horror, regret, and surprise. Like the man didn’t know that Tim still remembered what happened, still held onto the hurt and pain that he caused. Damian looked up indignantly, but he could see the traces of sorrow and regret. Damian had grown so much in the past years, changed for the better. It was obvious he regretted his younger-self's decisions. Bruce though, his face was as unreadable as ever. But Tim had spent literal years reading the man, first through a camera lense on rooftops, then by his side. Bruce felt hurt by his son's words, but he wasn’t going to change his decision, the stubborn and obstinate fool he was.

Tim took in a deep breath and slowly released it. He didn’t have time for this, she was waiting for him and he needed to go.

“Alright, I resign as a superhero.”

Tim stated in a voice void of all emotion. His face a neutral façade that he had mastered long before he ever met Bruce.

“WHAT?!”

Dick yelled in shocked alarm. Tim quickly turned toward the changing rooms and began to remove the uniform for the last time. There was an insistent knocking on the door, Dick telling him to stop and that they could work this out. But they couldn’t, Tim couldn’t do this anymore. This family was no longer his first priority, not anymore, not for a long time now. It was painful, thinking this would be the last time in this uniform, last time using the name that he carved for himself.

He folded the uniform with a quiet reverence, even as the frantic voice outside the door grew louder. A single tear slipped down his cheek, landing on the firm fabric that had protected him for so many years. Stealing himself and gathering up all of his courage to finally do this. To finally walk away and be free from the toxic expectations that surrounded him. He opened the door and before Dick could try to stop him he shoved the suit into his arms and quickly left upstairs to say goodbye to Alfred and leave. He didn’t need anything here, all of his valuables had moved far away from here long ago.

“He’ll come back.”

Dick frantically said to himself as he hugged his little brother's suit to his chest. Tears of hurt and regret burned down his cheeks like a waterfall of acid.

“Tim always comes back. He just needs some time…..he’ll come back”

Dick whispered to himself, willing himself to believe his own words. Because he can’t lose another little brother. He loved his little brothers. Tim would come back. Dick believed that his statement was true.

___________

4 Years Later

Tim hadn’t come back, and no matter what they did or where they looked not even Oracle could find him. Tim was good like that, if he didn’t want to be found, no one would ever be able to see him again unless he wanted you too. The lack of the scent of coffee and the lack of tired mumbling made a hole in the family that could never be filled no matter what they did. It felt…..wrong not having to tell a little caffeine gremlin to go to sleep, or having to carry said gremlin to their bed after he collapsed from exhaustion. But even though it felt like a grievous mistake, life went on, and there was nothing that they could do about it.

It was almost time for the annual Wayne Gala, and they had finally been able to get an audience with the famous and mysterious MDC. They were supposed to come to Gotham, but because of sudden “health issues” they requested that they come to Paris, France to meet them. They were supposed to meet the designer tomorrow, but until then they would wander the city just to tour it for once instead of being on some kind of mission.

“Hey Bruce, let’s go get a treat!”

Dick yelled out while pointing to a small quaint bakery at the corner of the street. Bruce sighed at his hyperactive son who was most definitely a sugar addict.

“Alright, come on Damian. Let’s go see what there is.”

Damian simply nodded and followed his father and older brother. Damian had rarely ever spoken since the night Tim had left fearing he would say something terribly and irrevocably wrong. He didn’t want anyone else to suffer from his words again.

They walked into the bakery and were greeted with loud giggles and a small fake offended gasp.

“Luna! How could you do that to me?”

Asked a very familiar voice in dramatic betrayal. There were 5 people at the back of the store, everyone except the man with black hair giggling softly to themselves. Suddenly a cloud of white shot up into the face of the man followed by a high pitched,

“Smoke bomb!”

The near silent giggles turned into fits of laughter. As the man wiped the flour from his face, a small smirk on his lips. Dick held his breath while tears began to well up in Bruce’s eyes as the familiar face of his son came into view. Damian stared blankly in shock, fists clenched in hope and fear. Deep steely blue eyes shown when the man opened his eyes and they all knew exactly who he was. Dick quietly gasped out,

“Tim?”

And the man turned to them with a bright smile that quickly faded to shock, and then guilt. Tim gulped, his body tightening up anxiously until a women with dark black hair gently grabbed his hand in reassurance.

“Daddy! Who are they?”

The little girl asked. Bruce’s eyes widened completely as all of the bar’s jaws dropped in surprise at what the little girl had just called him. Their gazes turned to the girl, black hairs just like the woman who held Tim’s hands, eyes the shade of Tim’s if not a bit lighter. She had the face of the woman, but the nose of Tim.

Tim carefully picked up his daughter, sitting her against his hip as the older couple that was also there stood behind the two in a protective manner. Tim took a deep breath before he said,

“Hey, it’s been awhile. I’m….I’m sorry about that. I’d like you to meet my wife and children.”

He said with false courage as he stepped out from behind the counter.

“This is Marinette, our daughter Luna Cassandra Dupain-Cheng, and our little surprise on the way.”

Tim said with a content smile as he placed a gentle hand on Marinette’s slightly round stomach. The Bat’s were speechless as they stared at the family, the family that no one had even known about. Tim could feel his nerves spike at the silence, but Marinette and his daughter clinging to his side kept him grounded. Damian was the first to move, his steps slow and even. Tim felt his heart rate spike bracing for words of hatred and malice, but instead was met with…..a hug?

Yep, it was definitely a hug, and oh. His shirt was getting wet we’re Damian’s head lay against his shoulder. Tears of his own welled up as he removed his hand from Marinette’s and hugged his younger brother. He could feel his daughter try to wiggle out of his grip and broke the hug to set her down. She quickly ran up to Dick and pointed at him with a bright smile and glowing eyes.

“Daddy! Daddy! Is he the acrobat that can fly?!”

She practically squealed. Tim, once again hugging Damian smiled at his daughter as tears ran down his face,

“Yes Sweetheart, that’s Uncle Richard. This is Uncle Damian, and say hi to Grandpa Bruce.”

Luna was like a flash of lightning, quickly attached to Bruce’s leg with a wide smile.

“Hi Grandpa! It’s nice to finally meet you!”

She said cheerily with a high pitched voice filled with wonder. Bruce looked up from where his little granddaughter—oh gosh, he had granddaughter—and saw Dick hugging both of his brothers, his sons. Carefully bending down he picked up the small child and quickly pulled all of his children into the tightest embrace.

Ding

“Hey Pixie! What going-“

Damian, Dick, and Bruce turned their heads towards the very familiar voice and saw Jason standing there stock still, obvious panic in his tense form.

“Uncie Jay-Jay!”

Luna cried with pure joy from the middle of the hug pile. The recognition and excitement in her voice, a clear indication that this was not Jason’s first time here. Needless to say he turned right out while he yelled,

“I’ll come back later.”

Dick was going to give the lecture of a lifetime when he was finished cuddling his baby brother. After the hug the three of them turned to where Marinette was standing off to the side, a smile on her lips and tear tracks on her cheeks. Tim cupped her cheeks while rubbing the tracks away with his thumb while he whispered comforts and questions to her that she responded to just as quietly. When he was done fretting Marinette approached them giving all of them cheek kisses.

“It’s nice to finally meet you all. I know this must be a shock to all of you.”

“Understatement of the century.”

Damian mumbled as he crossed his arms.

“But I want you to know that Tim has been nothing but kind and loyal. He has spoken many things to me about you, and I know that even if you have made some terrible choices with him, that you are good people at heart. We welcome you to our home.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce whispered before he pulled Marinette into a gentle embrace that she quickly returned.

“Thank you for looking after him for us.”

Marinette let out a small giggle and smiled at her husband. They looked after each other, neither would have been able to survive if they hadn’t stuck together. Things were rough at first due to distance and so many other variables. But now things are good. A new family formed, and the family reunited. Paris really is the city of love and surprises.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninja @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123

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spvilers · 2 years

Text

THE GIRLFRIEND THIEVES — C. CAIN

ღ pairing: cassandra cain x fem!reader

ღ prompt: “i'm pretty sure at this point my family has grown to love you more than they love me.”

ღ warnings: none

WHEN CASSANDRA BROUGHT you to meet her family for the first time, she didn't expect them to love you that much.

Sure, she knew that they would like you, you were a very enjoyable person with a bright smile that could make anyone like you, but she didn't think they would adore you that much.

Every single time she brought you over one of them was always stealing you away from her.

Dick always liked to watch movies with you because he thought your comments were funny and always made him laugh.

Jason likes to talk about books with you and at this point, the two of you almost have your own book club.

Tim liked the way you always knew what to say how you took your time to hear him tell you about his day.

Duke liked you because you were always there when he had problems and you somehow always seemed to have a solution to almost everything.

Damian thought it was cool to finally have someone over to play chess with him because, according to him, you are a worthy opponent.

Stephanie has always liked you, she was your best friend, actually, she was the one who introduced you to Cass, because she knew you two would match.

Barbara liked how happy you made cass and the way Cass was always smiling when you were near.

Bruce liked you because he saw how happy you made his kids and that immediately made him happy.

And Alfred liked you because you always offered to help him clean up when you stayed over for dinner or how you offered to help him cook and because he quite enjoyed your company.

So she should've seen it coming when she left you alone in the manor for five minutes because she had to pee and when she went back you were gone. Cassandra looked around to try and find you, but then she heard laughter from the kitchen.

Your laughter, and that of one of her brothers.

She sighed before she made her way into the kitchen and found you sitting on a chair with Dick standing by the stove, trying to cook something but obviously failing.

When you noticed her walking into the kitchen you smiled at her, "Hey Cass! Look, Dick is finally trying to cook!"

Cassandra just nodded and smiled at you before throwing her brother a glare.

Dick laughed, "Sorry, Cass. But she was sitting alone in the living room and I thought she could use some company."

Cass shook her head, "I just went to the bathroom!"

You laughed and stood up and walked over to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. "It's okay, cass. We can go and spend time alone now if you want."

Cassandra just nodded and took your hand before guiding you out of the kitchen.

Halfway on the way to her room, Cass' name was called by no one other than bruce. "Hey, Cass. I just need your help with this, I promise you it's gonna be quick." he said before seeing you, "Oh, hey Y/N."

You just waved at him before turning to Cass and telling her to go and help him and that you would find Cass' room by yourself, seeing as you have already been in the manor specifically Cassandra's room before.

When Cassandra was finally finished with Bruce, the only thing she wanted was you, and when she went into her room and you weren't there she knew exactly where you were and who was with you.

Cass knew you didn't mean to spend time with her family when she disappeared for a second, but she also knew that you were very bad at saying no, especially when it comes to her family.

Annoyed, Cass went to Batcave and when she entered it, she saw you playing chess with Damian while Tim was on his computer working on something with Jason in the background, fixing his motorcycle.

When you spotted her from your spot in front of Damian you waved enthusiastically at her and she couldn't help but smile too when she saw your big smile.

But when she saw the smug look that Damian gave her, one that only an annoying 14-year-old younger brother could have, her smile turned into a scowl.

Upon seeing your girlfriends frown you quickly stood up, "Hey, Damian, let's continue this some other time yeah? I'm really tired."

Tim turned around to you, "But it's only 3 pm?"

"Yeah, and I'm still tired, Timmy." you responded before walking over to Cassandra and taking her by her hand, and walking out of the Batcave.

On the way to her room Cass squeezed your hand, "I'm pretty sure at this point my family has grown to love you more than they love me." she mused.

You threw your head back, laughing and squeezed her hand back, "Yeah, but I still love you more than I love them."

Cass smiled before leaning in and pressing her lips to yours. When she pulls away, you rush to catch her mouth once more with her arms wrapping themselves around your waist.

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ragingbookdragon · 2 years

Text

Forgotten Son, Broken Brother, Come Stand And Deliver

A Batfamily One-Shot (Non-Reader Insert)

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: Hey, remember this? Oh this is the story that comes from that >:) Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

So far, the party had gone smoothly. The big one was scheduled for the coming Sunday where all the socialites across Gotham and every other state in the world would shove themselves up his dad’s ass for his favor and congratulate forty-five years of life. The small party was for friends and family, and by family it meant the entirety of the superhero community, which is why Bruce wasn’t too entirely happy at said party. In fact, he looked like someone was digging him in the back with a stiletto but that was probably because Ted Kord wouldn’t stop bugging him about a cooperation with Kord Industries and he was pretty sure his father was about to deck the other billionaire in the face.

Jason fumbled with the little black booklet in his hands, eyes scanning over the lines as he reread it. There was no need though, he’d already memorized the damn thing, but it was the only way he could find to distill the anxiety skating through his gut and chest. Either his father was going to love the gift, or he wasn’t. Jason hadn’t gotten around to buying a present, but what could you give to a man who could buy anything he wanted? Apparently, there were a few things; Damian had a rare tea plant that only grew where the League was placed, Tim upgraded his tech, Cass handmade him a card, Dick even got him a plaque that said, “Best/Worst Dad Ever.”

“Master Jason,” a voice interrupted him from his thoughts. “Are you ready?”

He glanced over to see Alfred there, a calm smile on his face, a microphone in his hands; he’d already read Jason’s gift, approved it with tears. “As I’ll ever be,” he muttered and took the microphone, flicking it on just as the music stilled; he handed the booklet to Alfred, trying to ignore the fluttering of his heart beneath his sternum, as he cleared his throat. The noise reverberated around the room, drawing his friends’ and family’s attention. “Good evening,” he greeted. “I hope everyone has had a good time so far?”

Various cheers, the loudest coming from Roy and Kyle who were stuffing their faces with free food, echoed around and he gave an overly polite smile, the type he gave people when he passed them in stores and didn’t want to socialize but he also didn’t want to look like a dick.

“We’ve already watched B open some of his gifts from a good few of you, but, uh…I have to confess that I haven’t given him mine yet.” Jason tried not to look at Bruce; it felt to awkward to do so. “As I’m sure many of you found, there’s not much to get someone who has everything.”

The base members of the Justice League cackled, making Bruce roll his eyes, but it made Jason smile. “My gift this year is not a tangible one. Well, it is, but you’re not getting my notebook. That’s personal.” More laughter followed and Alfred set the stand in front of him. “It’s a poem and if anyone laughs, I’ll punch you in the face…politely…with a lot of disapproving words about how you’re uncultured,” he warned with a glare.

Jason set the microphone inside it and cleared his throat as the older man walked off, leaving him alone, the entire room’s attention on him. There had to be at least a hundred people here.

He took a deep breath and looked up from the floor, eyes and voice firm. “My father is not a great father.” The very first line raised the eyebrows of every single person in the ballroom, and even his father’s eyes widened ever so slightly before coming back to that impassive, stoic expression. “His greeting pleasantries and bidding goodbyes to the untrained ear sing praise at the meeting but to the trained they cry boredom and displeasure.” He made sure to look around the room, dividing his attention to everyone. “My father is not a great father. He spends more time concerned with his alter ego than he does concerned with his own kids.”

There seemed to be general displeasure falling over the community at the admissions, some of them turning to glare at Bruce. “My father is not a great father. He doesn’t deal in “trust me’s” or trust well at all, and I have been the end of that damning lesson more times than I care to admit, sometimes I think I’ll never not be.” His jaw started to clench, and he forced himself to relax. “My father is not a great father. His words are clipped and ill-fitting in the moments when warmth and care are needed, he can comfort children as local legend, but he still has so much to learn about comforting his own children.”

He couldn’t look at Bruce the entire time, but even his siblings were wearing looks of shock because not even they had expected something like this in front of everyone; sure, they like to air their grievances with their father but never in public. Always in private, away from prying eyes. “My father is not a great father. He values the time he spends alone more than the time with his family.” He shifted on his feet, a telltale sign that he was beginning to become antsy under the heavy scrutiny of those steel-blue eyes. “My father is not a great father. Sometimes he misplaces his trust and assuredness in the worst circumstances and places in time. I, am a living legacy of those times.”

His mouth started to feel dry, and he wet his lips with the quick swipe of his tongue. “My father is not a great father. He stands on the precipice of self-righteous arrogance and is hardly liable to change his mind for any reason. Sometimes I wonder whether he cares for the opinions of others, sometimes I feel that he never will.”

Tipping his head to the side, he delivered what was probably the most damning line. “My father is not a great father. I can count on one hand the number of times combined I have heard the phrases, “I love you” and “I’m proud of you” in my life.” He nodded to himself, like he was building up the courage to continue speaking. “Sometimes my father forgets that verbal affirmations matter just as much as the physical ones. A squeeze on my shoulder is not as assuring as hearing “I love you.”

He let out a shaky breath, cursing himself for putting such a raw line, feeling the corners of his eyes to sting but he cleared his throat and managed to speak a truth that everyone seemed to know but had never really wanted to admit. “My father is not a great father. I have seen men far more worthy and true of that title than he is and ever will be. Some of those men are the men he saves the universe with.”

His breathing started coming out a little faster, voice pitching higher in vulnerability because Jason never made it a habit of showing his emotion or feelings to the world around him. “But while my father may not be a great father, he is the greatest father I have ever had, and I would not trade what I was given for anything in this world, even if it meant I would have a great father.”

Jason finally let himself look over at Bruce and he couldn’t stop the tears from shimmering in his eyes; he swallowed thickly, took a deep breath, and with the most honest and loving smile that Bruce had ever seen his second son make before in his life, he stood and delivered, “My father is not a great father, but he is my father, and it is more than enough for me.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected. Clapping, roaring applause, rage, hysteric blubbering courtesy of his eldest brother? Silence was not the answer though. Suddenly Jason was considering this gift a very bad one and the worst possible idea he’s ever had right next to walking into a warehouse instead of waiting, because no one was saying anything or doing anything and now Bruce was getting up from his seat, striding over with a purpose and Jason was ready to bolt with a speed that rivaled The Flashes’ because he was about to get punched for embarrassing Bruce like this. But his father appeared in front of him, and he braced himself for whatever foul reaction was about to come from this gift when his father grabbed his bicep and yanked him forwards, free arm curling around the younger’s back to clench in the charcoal suit.

Jason froze as Bruce’s hand on his bicep shifted to cup the back of his skull, thumb brushing tenderly into the lop of ebony curls and underneath the hair to his head. “I love you,” Bruce whispered harshly, no, not harshly, it was raw, it was all that inhuman control let go of for one single moment to let a son know what he always knew even when he felt like he was forgotten or broken.

Tears flooded his vision, he weakly gripped Bruce’s back, burying his face in his father’s shoulder, and that’s when the reaction reached his ears. Like the thundering of a thousand stallions across the plain lands. Every cheer was louder than the last, he could hear some sobbing too, but he wasn’t paying attention much to anything other than to his father.

He shifted his head and rested his chin on Bruce’s shoulder. “I love you, old man.”

The thumb at the back of his head, brushed comfortingly again. “I love you more, son. And, thank you…for reminding me.”

Jason smiled despite his tears. “Someone had to.” His lips wobbled a little. “You really are, you know? I meant it.”

Bruce’s pulled back enough to see Jason’s face and he cupped his son’s cheeks, brushing away the tears that stained his face. “I know you did. And I may never be a great father, but as long as I’m the greatest to you, I think that’ll be okay for me.”

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your-nanas-house · 2 years

Text

Colored lights (part 2)

pairing: Jeremiah Valeska X Reader; Bruce Wayne X Reader

warnings: kidnapping?

words: 634

summary: Bruce goes to save his wife

note: Sorry about the mistakes and the English. I hope you enjoy the continuation of the story. @animefan3223

................................................................................

That morning when Bruce slowly awoke from his strangely deep sleep and rolled over to look for Y/n's warm body that was always beside him in his awakenings, he didn't find it.

It wasn't so strange, there had been mornings where the man had woken up without his woman next to him for work reasons or because she was in the Manor so he didn't get so paranoid; he took a quick shower and went down to the kitchen to check if Y/n was there, but she wasn't, there was only his butler, Alfred, who was making breakfast for two "good morning, Alfred! Have you seen my lovely lady anywhere?" the butler shook his head slightly surprised and surprised by his master's question "no, Master Bruce, she didn't come to downstairs this morning, I thought she was with you" the man frowned at this and nodded starting to worry slightly "she was last night, but this morning she wasn't, the balcony was open but there was no sign of Y/n".

There was no sign of the girl because she was no longer in the Wayne Manor, where she should have been, but in Jeremiah Valeska's house, unconscious and lying in his bed in his possessive arms.

She wasn't supposed to be there, she was supposed to be in Bruce's arms, in her own bed not in the bed of Jeremiah, who had forced her into it the night before, and yet here she was.

Her eyes slowly opened, arms now warm and no longer cold like the night before hugged her hips but they weren't as warm as her man's, lips continued to leave small kisses on her skin, her eyes closed again humming at the sensation of a warm breath on her ear that made her blood run cold as soon as she heard the person's voice, "Good morning my dear, are you hungry?"

It didn't take long for Y/n to jump out of bed, unlike the night before on the balcony, and go on the defensive preparing to fight only to be met by a smirking Jeremiah, who was looking up and down at her "I could get used to this view every morning" the girl lowered her gaze slightly confused, realizing soon enough that she was completely naked and without the dressing gown that covered her delicate skin; As soon as she found it near the bed she grabbed it, covering her body and glaring at the man who hadn't stopped looking at her with amusement, "Don't be so shy, it wouldn't be the first time I've seen you like this".

Bruce was locked up in the Batcave all day, he hadn't stopped looking for her for a single moment.

A week went by and he finally figured out where she was.

That morning there was something different than the other days, Y/n could feel it, in fact she regretted getting up that morning finding herself at that moment locked in a room that was about to be filled with gas, Jeremiah's voice echoing throughout the room "I'm doing this for you my dear, you need to open your eyes and I'm going to help you with that, like my brother did with me I'm going to do it with you and you'll finally realise that we belong together".

Jeremiah's voice continued to echo through the room as the gas started to be released, the girl was starting to panic even more, when she heard loud noises coming from outside and the door to the room opened showing a dark silhouette "Y/n?"; her head lifted quickly as she recognised the voice, Bruce quickly approached making sure she was alright before bringing her back to the Manor safely and dealing with Jeremiah once and for all.

Taglist:

@gabile18

@mrsfullbuster500

@trainer--taylor

#gotham tv #gotham #gotham x reader #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah x reader #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter Five: Paris Revealed (Stories/Memories)

AO3

Marinette flinches back as the room erupts in shouting. The younger boy, who was definitely younger than her and yet almost (if not definitely) taller than her, was fiercely glaring while he screamed at Mr. Wayne in….was that Arabic? The man that walked in with him was waving around the knife in his hand while Dick yelled at Mr. Wayne, his face filled with confusion instead of fury. Glancing around for a way out, Marinette makes eye contact with Alfred who nods behind him. Sneaking away from the group of angry men, Marinette follows Alfred into the kitchen and instantly feels at home. And much calmer.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles, breathing deeply to avoid spiraling again. Alfred simply hands her a cookie before turning around and putting water in a kettle.

“There is no need to apologize, Miss Marinette. It seems Master Bruce has forgotten all sense today and is instead insistent on acting like a fool. It was wrong of him to announce you like that, without preparing you or the boys beforehand. I do hope that his atrocious display of proper manners doesn’t make you want to leave.” Alfred says, and Marinette’s eyebrows shoot upwards. Was he? Was Alfred actually blaming this situation on Mr. Wayne? Was it Mr. Wayne’s fault? Did he not actually hate her? Did he just make a mistake?

“I- what?” Marinette says, unsure of herself.

“You, my dear, are not at fault. Your father didn’t tell any of his sons that you were coming to the manor today, or that you existed in general. And judging by your face, you weren’t prepared for the boys to be here either.” Alfred clarifies.

“Oh. No, I wasn’t. Mr. Wayne just said that he wanted to get to know me, and he knew I wanted to get to know him. I- my birth mother passed away. But my Maman knew her, so I can find out from her how I’m similar to Bridgette. But neither of my parents knew Mr. Wayne, and I just wanted to know if I was like him, I guess. I didn’t even know who he was until two days ago.” Marinette admits.

“As in you found out Bruce Wayne was your birth father two days ago or-” Alfred trails off, waiting for her to clarify.

“Oh no. I found out the name of my birth father awhile ago. It’s just- I really don’t pay attention to celebrities. The only ones I really know are designers. So I didn’t put two and two together, and I didn’t even know about Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises until a few days ago. My friend Adrien made me google him and that’s when I found out about...the boys.” She says, stopping herself from saying her brothers as she was still unsure if Mr. Wayne actually wanted her like he wanted the others.

“Well I’m certain that things will start to calm down shortly. In the meantime, would you care for some tea?” Alfred asks, holding up the kettle. Marinette nods gratefully, trying hard to stop her inner spiral from drowning her.

---

“What do you mean daughter?” Damian snarls, finally switching to English. Bruce blinks at the boy before sighing.

“I mean, you have a biological sister.” He says, tired and wishing he had been able to convince Marinette to go somewhere else. Not that he didn’t want her to meet her siblings. But it definitely wasn’t the laid back first meeting that he wanted.

“You mean half-sister.” Damian spits out, crossing his arms and sticking his nose into the air.

“Shut up, Demon Spawn. She’s our sister, get over it. Where’d the kid come from? Her mom drop her off?” Jason asks, obviously trying to actually understand the situation.

“No. I first met her at the Museum and had my suspicions. She’s in Gotham on a class trip, and before you ask, yes. We had a DNA test done and yes, I am her father.” Bruce says, frowning when he sees Dick’s hurt expression morph into one of excitement.

“Wait, wait, wait! Was she the girl who was sassing the Joker?” He asks quietly, practically buzzing with excitement. When Bruce nods, Dick cheers and runs from the room. Okay then.

“Wait, she met the Joker?” Jason asks, his expression turning dark. Bruce watches his son’s face morph into one of disgust when he puts it together. “She’s the French kid he had at gunpoint, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Which is one of the reasons why we both thought the manor would be a more appropriate meeting place rather than somewhere public.” Bruce says, sighing as Damian once again starts screaming. This was not what he had planned.

---

After just a few minutes with Alfred, Marinette already felt calmer. Calm enough to giggle at another story about something that one of the boys- one of her brothers- did. Calm enough to let her guard down. And mess up.

“If you wanna see something ridiculous, you should look up the 26th time Monsieur Ramier was akumatized into Monsieur Pigeon. He made all the buildings turn into bird cages and all the food turned into bird seed. Luckily it didn’t last long, but seeing the Mayor of Paris stuck inside a giant bird cage was kind of hilarious.” Marinette rambles, giggling at the memory. It was definitely a needed akuma, situated right between two super destructive akumas. Monsieur Pigeon was, while a nuisance, always a breath of fresh air. His akumatized form was brought on by his fierce protectiveness of the pigeons, which luckily never led to death for civilians.

“Pardon me, Miss Marinette, but could I ask what you mean by ‘akumatized’?” Alfred asks, his posture suddenly stiff. Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just did. She told someone outside of Paris about the situation happening in Paris. Well crap. Normal Parisians didn’t know about the media block that she had set up with the help of the Mayor and Max. But after her calls to the Justice League were ignored, and she realized how disastrous it would be for a member of the League to be akumatized, the media block was the best choice. Time to act clueless.

“Akumatized, as in, a person is possessed by an akuma? Surely you’ve heard of it. It’s been happening in Paris for almost two years.” She says, hoping he doesn’t ask to see any evidence. This isn’t good, this is awful, this-

“And what is an akuma?” Alfred asks. Okay, this isn’t too bad.

“It’s an evil butterfly sent out by the villain, Hawkmoth.” Marinette says, giving out more information than she’s really comfortable with. Okay, time to change the subject, no more questions about heroes or villains or-

“Marinette!” A new voice calls, sliding into the kitchen, almost immediately falling over.

“Master Dick, have you forgotten about your ban on the kitchen?” Alfred asks, his lips quirking up in amusement.

“Awww, Alfred, I just wanted to talk to Marinette. I feel bad for all of us overwhelming her back there.” Dick says with a pout that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous on him. Despite obviously being at least ten years older than her.

“Don’t feel bad. It was just...a lot all at once.” Marinette says with a small smile.

“So I have to ask, are you the one who sassed the Joker at the Museum the other day?” He asks, a wide grin on his face as he sits on one of the stools. Marinette’s eyes widen and she blinks. How?

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess. It wasn’t a big deal though. He thought I was a Wayne- well, I guess he figured it out before I did- but I think he just wanted to scare my class.” She says, waving her hand to brush off the topic. She really didn’t want to talk about the Joker. Because she was sure it would turn into-

“I apologize for asking, but have you been caught up in the villain attacks in Paris before?” Alfred asks, Marinette instantly panicking. Sure, she’d been caught up in almost every single akuma battle as Ladybug. But there were a few on record where she was targeted as Marinette, and even a few battles that she assisted as Marinette. And then there was Kwami Buster…

“Well, a few. But basically everyone in Paris has dealt with it at some point. That’s just what happens when there’s an attack so often, you know? And my school seems to be a hotspot but that makes sense because teenagers are full of negative emotions and-” Marinette cuts off her rambling, cursing herself on the inside. Great job, Mari. Now they’re going to be worried or they’re going to think you’re a freak or-

“What do you mean negative emotions? Why would that matter?” Dick asks, his previous cheerful smile replaced with a look that clearly meant business.

“That’s how the villain chooses his targets. Negative emotion. If someone is having a bad enough day, he can take control of them and give them powers and basically destroy the city trying to get to Ladybug and Chat Noir, who are our heroes. I only know what’s been posted on official sites like the Ladyblog or miraculousparis.org.” Marinette says, smiling apologetically and hoping that this conversation can be over.

“Have you ever been akumatized?” Dick asks, tension suddenly filling the room.

“No, thankfully. I’ve found ways to manage my negative emotions so that they can’t take me over. I don’t blame anyone who has been akumatized, it’s hard not to be. But, I also don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if I was akumatized.” Because then her family would be a target. Because Hawkmoth would know her identity. And if Hawkmoth’s insistence on her being akumatized was anything to go on, she’d be a devastating akuma. And if Ladybug wasn’t fighting in the battle….would the cure even work?

“That is a lot of pressure, Miss Marinette.” Alfred says softly after a moment of tense silence. Marinette grins brightly.

“I can handle it, don’t worry!” She says, hoping no one can tell how hard it actually is. How hard it is constantly being strong. Never truly feeling a negative emotion.

---

Bruce winces at the faux cheerfulness in his daughter’s voice. He had only found out about the Paris situation a few days ago, but he was determined to fix it. Find a solution. Do something to help the city and by extension, his daughter. She’d be going back there soon. Back to a city that was being held hostage by an emotional terrorist. Bruce would fix this. He had to.

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alfredosauce50 · 2 years

Text

Our love is God

[80s! America x reader]

Wordcount: 3, 952 Synopsis: Alfred doesn’t have the cleanest track record of being the best person in the world. He’s a bully, and his brother knows. After a heated, sibling-to-sibling altercation at a party, Matthew decides it’s finally time to spill the beans. You’re the only person whose opinion Alfred would care about, and the dirt Matthew has on him will have you crucify him. Content warning: Strong language, drug use, and psychological torture. Mature audiences only. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Alfred never looked bothered, even while saying the cruelest of things. He was too well-liked to care.

That was how Matthew understood it.

Despite being identical twins, they grew up to become polar opposites from two different worlds. One, a beer-guzzling jock asshole that lived in the fast lane, throwing parties, cow-tipping, beating up freshmen, and getting a pass for everything because he was the school’s shining quarterback. Two, a quiet and sheltered nerd who lived in his shadow.

The other brother.

Alfred told him to wait in the game room.

He promptly disappeared behind a door, in which a faint click of a lock was heard. It didn’t take a detective to know what he was doing in there. In every single one of these get-togethers, there was always a de-facto romper room for whatever the average American teenager might’ve wanted when the folks weren’t around. Sex, drugs, and alcohol.

A few minutes droned by, and Matthew prayed he wouldn’t hear any pounding besides in the music from the other room. Luckily, Alfred walked out with his clothes on. In his right hand was a packet of dried green bunches. But that never stayed in plain sight for long—he slid that right into his red letterman jacket. Glancing up with that signature unassuming face of his, he managed a lopsided grin.

“Anyway. You seen (F/N) anywhere?” Alfred shoved his hands into his pockets and brushed past him. He looked over his shoulder as he waited for an answer.

“Dunno. She’s probably with Gilbert.”

“Cool.” As he made his way to the door, a waft of cannabis entered Matthew’s nose. He crinkled it in disgust. There were hints of some other things as well, which were far better off left as ‘things’.

“You might wanna walk that off,” Matthew murmured, giving his back a discerning stare. “She doesn’t have to do that stuff to know.”

Alfred spun around for a dry laugh.

“She’s not gonna know.” He shrugged. “And plus, I don’t think she’ll care all that much. It’s just weed.”

“I’m not saying she’d care. But you definitely would.”

That certainly struck a chord in his brother. His face went red, and he stormed back. Looming his head over Matthew, he muttered this quickly, “what do you mean, I definitely would? Wanna elaborate?”

“You know what I mean.” Matthew was far too used to his antics to be intimidated. In his seventeen years of living, he came to understand Alfred was nothing but full of shit. All he had to offer were his fake personality and empty threats. “You’re always pretending to be good in front of her. You’d go crazy if she saw how you were really like.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” Alfred’s eye twitched.

“You were the one who wanted me to elaborate.”

“Whatever. Just don’t fucking mess with her. And stay away from us.” He hissed, giving him a rough shove in the shoulder. It was Matthew’s turn to heat up in anger, now. And so, they glared into each other’s eyes with unbridled hatred.

“You’re just jealous that she wouldn’t pick a fucking loser like you.”

“Sure...” Matthew’s expression darkened.

What an asshole. If he thought he was the only one who could play with his emotions, he was dead wrong—“she deserves to know. What you did.”

Alfred already turned away, but upon hearing that, he slowed to a stop by the doorframe.

“Oh, yeah? And what did I do?”

Alfred didn’t want to turn around. Otherwise, his brother could see him cracking like an egg. A sick churning in his stomach began, and he clenched his fists to offset the anxiety in his system. They already had so little in common, and yet, Matthew knew more than what he was comfortable with.

“Remember that kid who caught you doing lines?”

He froze.

“I know you made him transfer. I knew you were a bully, but I didn’t think you’d take it that far.”

“Shut up. I don’t do that kinda shit anymore.” Alfred shot him a heated look, but the tremble in his voice was undeniable. Matthew had him by the balls. “And I wouldn’t touch that stuff if you paid me. It’s all in the past, okay? I’m not like that anymore.”

Matthew rose a brow. “Are you?”

Alfred glowered at him before pulling out the green packet. Tossing that over to him, he caught it effortlessly. “You owe me twenty.”

“No I don’t.”

“Fuck you.” With that said, he left, but not without giving him the finger. Matthew was meant to drive home with that stuff so he could smoke it later, but he guessed he was sleeping sober tonight.

While he walked around the front yard to cool off, he wondered to himself where you’d gone. The night was still young, and after that aggravating conversation, he wanted to see you more than anything. “Stupid Matt.” He grumbled with a frown. He kicked a stray pebble a watched it skid.

Alfred was wearing the most miserable face in a while. There was always a constant giving and taking to ensure nobody ratted each other out. Lately, it was mostly him being pushed around so Matthew could keep quiet. ‘Lately’ really only meant ever since he asked you out all those months ago.

Before he wandered too far, he heard rapid footsteps crushing the grass beneath. You came barrelling right into him. “Woah, ho-ho—” The collision got him stumbling to the side, so he straightened himself up by wrapping an arm around your waist. Then, he beamed. “There you are! You almost seem excited about something. That’s concerning.”

“Please.” Your cheeks were flushed from all the running, but they reddened more at that comment. “Gil said to haul our asses to the nearest store, pronto. He’s running low on drinks.”

“Yeah, alright.” Alfred squeezed your side, much to your delight. He never liked doing the guy favors, but considering you just charged into him like a bull, he couldn’t say no. Thinking about it had him picking up the pace. “Come on, we gotta motor if we wanna save his lame-ass party.”

He made a quick drive to the closest seven-eleven. The neon glow of the store could get as blinding as headlights in the dead of night. But there was always something so attractive about it. Being comfortably alone after a long day, but ‘alone’ still constituted the company of very few people.

“You know, Gil’s a fun guy, but he lacks the, uh, organizational skills to make it all happen,” Alfred commented mindlessly, flashing you a playful grin. The engine’s purr stopped, and he unbuckled his seatbelt with a click. “He’s not playing with a full deck, you see.”

“Jerk.” You shot him a look. When you saw how unbothered he was in that unwavering smile on you, it became impossible to stay even remotely upset. That guy was so carefree, he always made everything feel ‘okay’. Nothing had to be fine, and yet, he could make it out to be. “You know he gets better grades than you.”

“That’s why I’m just joking.” He laughed lightheartedly. “I’m stupider than he is, so I get a pass. Am I right, or am I right?”

“Sure.” You kept your head turned, but you were smiling harder by the second.

You covered your mouth to hide it but to no avail. This guy was such an idiot. But a lovable one, so it was easy to overlook his faults.

“Alfred, why are you like this?”

“Dunno. Why, you don’t like me or something?”

When you faced him, this thought immediately occurred to you. That damn smile. It was always that smile. The one that practically screamed he already knew the answer. That you adored him, and he only wanted to hear you say it. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t letting him have what he wanted so easily.

“Can’t you be serious, for once?”

“So I was found out, huh? Fine.”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, you were in no way prepared for what he was about to say. Alfred had always been a Casanova, and you were about to experience it first hand. “You know, if you weren’t the one who asked me, to come out here tonight, and buy all this, I would’ve said no.”

He spoke significantly slower than a minute ago.

“Oh, yeah?” You showed a rosy smile when you saw how he was looking at you. Something about him always put you in the mood. You pinned the blame on how much you liked him, and how unpredictable he could be. One second, he was a brainless jock, then the next, he was talking like he was in a movie.

“I’m sorry it had to be me.”

You never knew what to expect, so you ended up expecting everything.

With the bluish-pink glow of the storefront illuminating your faces, he found himself thoroughly infatuated. You were staring at him so fondly, he almost forgot he didn’t come here to fool around with you. But what he did forget, was what he was so upset about earlier. And so, Alfred couldn’t help closing his eyes and leaning in.

You tilted your head to reciprocate. Your heart was pounding, but what he said left it aching.

“I’ll forgive you if you let me buy you a slushy.”

He closed the distance between his lips and yours. One kiss turned into two, then three, but you parted before the fourth.

“Deal.”

When he paid for everything at the cashier, he turned his head to you. You never had trouble looking at him as if he was the best thing in the world. So, like the natural order of all things, he had a hard time staying away from you. Everything about you made him forget what he wanted to forget.

You could say the same.

Ever since coming to Sherwood, you never had to worry about making friends or fitting in. It was meant to be your biggest concern, but he’d been there on day one, showing you around and introducing you to his pals like he’d known you forever. He was always humble about it, being the most popular guy in school and all, so you’ve never felt more welcomed.

You came here wanting your high school to be a nice place. Alfred made it happen, and you couldn’t be more grateful. He had a feeling you saw him that way, so he’d be damned if that ever changed.

“Hey, you know how I said I was kinda excited to party today?” He pushed open the glass door to step outside. “Let’s just ditch the party. Just come over to my place, and we can just drink everything we bought. They’ve had enough, anyway.” After buying you that slushy, you ambled outside to wait for him. So he expected you to be right where he left you.

“I’d rather hang out with you over them any day.” He continued mindlessly, stepping off the pavement. As he stood alone in the parking lot, he managed one last remark before falling completely silent.

“And we could put on your favorite movie.”

You were nowhere to be seen.

“Come on, (F/N), this isn’t funny!”

Where did you go? You weren’t in the car.

He stopped. He was talking to himself at this point, and his chest tightened at the realization you weren’t replying anytime soon. Immediately, he ran back into the store to search the aisles. When he had no luck, he checked the back alley. Then, the surrounding few blocks. With every fruitless attempt, the terror in his system surged until he couldn’t breathe.

Where had you gone?

Alfred returned to the party on foot. He’d left his car at the Seven-Eleven, and he didn’t care to get it back. By the time he got there, half of the crowd had left. Thankfully, his friends were still around. Approaching them with a dark glower, he grew suspicious of their carefree demeanors.

He grabbed the collar of the school’s resident mischief-maker.

“That was pretty fucked up. Now, where did you hide (F/N)? Tell me!” Gilbert threw his hands up defensively. Alfred’s face was so red he knew better than to talk back, even while he was being throttled back and forth for an answer he didn’t have. “Well? Did you decide you couldn’t wait for the drinks and just—whatever. Just tell me where she is.”

“Shit, man, I don’t know!” He exclaimed helplessly.

The second Alfred heard the words, his ears began to ring. Releasing his shirt with eyes as wide as dinner plates, he hung his head when it dawned on him.

“I thought she was with you.”

“What the hell is your damage, Matthew?” You spat. As you stared at him through your eyebrows, you held a frozen pack of peas to your face. “I wouldn’t put it past Alfred to be a bit of a dick sometimes, but you? I thought you were nice.”

Punching you was never planned, but you elbowed him in the face. He held up a hand as if he were catching a ball. You tossed the bag to him. He held it up to his bleeding nose. “But you’re an asshole.”

“I won’t deny it.” He shrugged. “But I have to say, you’d be surprised how far someone could take the asshole part.” The boy remarked with raised brows. You rolled your eyes and stood up from your bed. Before you opened the door, you spun to him with folded arms and took a few steps his way.

“Is that a threat?”

First, he plucks you off the streets, gives you a bad scare, and demands to be let into your house. From the direction of how things were going, you were ready to fight tooth and nail to get rid of him. Little did you know, the asshole he was referring to wasn’t him. Far from it, if he might add.

Yes, they may have shared the same face, but he’d be damned if he was ever compared to him.

“What? No.” Matthew’s brows twitched together.

“I brought you here to do you a favor, actually. And myself too.” He was standing by your coffee table. Taking the packet he bested out of his brother, he plopped it onto the surface and glanced up for a hard stare. You returned it with a confused one.

What did anything have to do with weed?

“My brother is not who you think he is.”

Alfred ran all the way home. If that didn’t give him chest pains, the anxiety would. Holding his football-shaped phone to his ear, he held out a trembling finger to dial 9-1-1. He was in denial. How could you have disappeared in the few seconds he took his eyes off of you? It sounded impossible, and he wished it was. If only it were true.

His breathing grew labored, and he had to lower himself to the ground as his head spun like a carousel. Dropping the phone with a clack, he brought his arms over his ears and head. Even then, they never stopped shaking. Guilt festered inside him until he began to cry, albeit quietly. As he tightened himself into a ball, he weighed his options.

But he didn’t have many.

“I know why you transferred here,” Matthew murmured. In his dark, violet eyes held a look you recognized to be understanding. But you were in no mental state to see it as such. Inside was a flurry of emotions, but they came together as vulnerability, an ugly and formidable sensation in its purest form. “And without moving houses.”

“Stalker, much?” You snapped. He threw you the peas so you could literally cool off.

“How did you know?”

“My mom was talking about it.” Matthew rubbed his nape sheepishly when you gawked at him. “Yeah, so she’s the deputy. And she’s a big talker. She was telling me about it when I was doing the dishes.”

“What is this, blackmail?” You cupped your hands over your eyes and hung your head.

“No way. I’m just saying—”

“You didn’t tell anybody, did you?” You shot up and showed a nervous frown. “‘Cause if you did, I’m done. I’m out of here before I finish senior year. Again. Fuck, I have to do it all again—”

“I didn’t tell anybody, okay?” Matthew rose his voice to an uncharacteristically louder tone. You were stunned silent. But that didn’t change how distraught you were. Somehow, your boyfriend’s brother discovered your darkest secret.

That you got onto the bad side of some of the most popular people in school. And for that, they made every single day a living hell. It could’ve been as subtle as smacking lunch trays, but you didn’t want to deal with it towards the end of your high school career. Fast forward to the present in Sherwood, Ohio, you were doomed to repeat it all over again.

Or so you thought.

“And I’m not gonna. I’m not an asshole.” You visibly eased up at the unprecedented change of events. But what he said next was something you were barely prepared for. “I know what it’s like to be fucked over,” Matthew inhaled once. “Every day, by people like my brother. He’s worse than you think.”

Your mom answered the door to a very nervous Alfred. As they conversed, he practically melted with relief before stepping inside.

“He’s the same as the people you wanted to get away from.”

You were harassed into leaving your old school.

Your boyfriend knew about it all along, and that wouldn’t have bothered you if he was everything you thought he was. Turns out, he was the one doing the harassing. And he never stopped until the unnamed freshman finally transferred. As you learned of the event, which happened as recently as last year, betrayal and anger filled you to the brim.

To think he hid it from you—you wouldn’t be half as mad if he told you this himself.

No wonder Matthew was so insistent on telling you the truth, and Alfred was so hell-bent on hiding it. Tonight’s ‘kidnapping’ was just a deliberate scheme to fuck with him. Honestly, you weren’t even mad.

The doorknob jiggled momentarily before it turned. When the door creaked open, Alfred appeared. When you and Matthew watched him pale to a sheet of paper, no three minds ever synchronized so well.

You’re fucked.

I’m so fucked.

You didn’t get any sleep that night, and neither did Alfred. Matthew, however, slept like a baby.

After an argument that lasted well over an hour, which was mostly him apologizing, you both walked outside at midnight. He wasn’t sure how you felt about him anymore, and it worried him to no end. Like now, as the two of you made a short, yet silent journey to the Seven-Eleven he abandoned his car.

“You’re not gonna talk to me?” Alfred murmured through a frown. You kept walking quietly.

“Come on. I said I was sorry.” He ran in front of you and stopped. Given how big he was, being the quarterback and everything, he could’ve passed as a roadblock. That was the exact thought process you went through, and it annoyed you to no end.

“I’m sorry.”

What a jerk.

You simply moved to the side and overtook him.

But that didn’t phase him. He did it again and again until you got sick of it—you were patient too. He might’ve done it at least ten times before you gave in. When he stood in your way, you glared up at him.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” With that said, you brushed past him. He followed after like a lost puppy. “It’s just an empty, meaningless word you throw around every time you mess up so you can do it again.”

“But I am.” Alfred pleaded. “I don’t do that stuff anymore. I was a paranoid little shit, I know. I was working towards a scholarship and everything. I didn’t need like, a tattletale to ruin it.” You huffed and kept walking, dissatisfied with his explanation. He figured, so he kept rambling with his arms up.

“And, yeah, doesn’t change that I’m an asshole now. I treat my brother like shit, and I like pushing around nerds. But I’m working on it, okay? I mean, who wouldn’t be tempted to do a little teasing when you look like that, right?” He forced a quick smile, but you couldn’t humor him. “... Right?”

“You’re not funny.” You mused, but you couldn’t get yourself to look away from his glossy eyes. And you hated how weak they had you. So, you masked it with anger. “Do you know what they say about you? They say you’re the smartest guy on the football team.”

Alfred blinked. “They do?”

“That’s like being the tallest dwarf.”

He paused for a few moments to process it.

“Oh.”

“You just proved my point.” You sighed, but he never took offense to it. Instead, he seemed to take pride in his stupidity, or at least, he was happy about it.

Why else was he smiling so sagely, despite not fitting that kind of description at all? While you darted your eyes over his carefree expression, trying to decipher him like a cryptic code, you found yourself at a loss. Instead of answers, it was more questions you got.

“I don’t understand how you can be so nice to me,”

Overtaking him this time, he never moved to the side like you did. Instead, he walked right into you and pulled you into his chest. When his scent overwhelmed you, your resolve to push him away shattered. And you let it happen. He wasn’t even trying, but it felt like he was doing all the right things.

“But you can be so mean to everyone else. I don’t trust that. I don’t trust you.”

How was it that he was so good at messing up, just not around you?

“Didn’t I tell you? I said I was working on it. Give me some credit, alright?” He murmured, resting his chin on your head. When he felt your arms wrap around him, hesitantly, he tightened his coils around your waist. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but his heart was racing at the mere taste of it.

“And, if I wasn’t, you know, working on it, you’d find out I was a dick sooner or later. But you needed my brother to get dirt on me first, didn’t you?”

Your lips twitched up into a smile. Your head was resting on his chest, and you didn’t want to move away anytime soon. “...”

“And you’re not part of everyone else. Okay?”

Once again, you were taken aback by how unpredictable he could be. Alfred could be so eloquent when he wanted to be, it had you wondering if it was right to call him stupid anymore. “You’re too good at this.” You grumbled, pulling away to show him a half-frown. “But this won’t get you far in life. You’re gonna end up being a gas station attendant, you know.”

“And I didn’t think you were elitist, you know?”

“Whatever. You’re on your own now, Alfred. When you’re balding by thirty, don’t look for me.”

You stifled a laugh at the thought.

“Why? Is it ‘cause you’ll be embarrassed I’m ugly?”

He jogged after you with his hands in his pockets, so he gave you a hip bump. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ugly, even if I lost my hair and everything.”

“Arguable.”

Alfred clicked his tongue. “Don’t be mean.”

You shook your head, positively amused.

“I’ll show you mean.”

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed.

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins.

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze.

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars.

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window.

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him.

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night.

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry.

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength.

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain.

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness.

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look.

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night.

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I��m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her.

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together.

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most.

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back.

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek.

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

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

I worked so hard on this 😩 Please let me know your thoughts.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman reader insert #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth & reader #batman fic #batman universe #dc #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne angst #batman angst

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ravennm84 · 4 years

Text

Marinette’s Family Court Circus

I got this idea from a post @unmaskedagain and decided to put my own little spin to it. It’s a bit sad and does have my usual Lila-Salt spin, but I really loved writing this. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

The day of her greatest triumph was also her greatest tragedy. Hawkmoth had finally been defeated, the butterfly and peacock miraculous back in the miracle box where they belonged, and Paris was finally safe.

However, when Gabriel Agreste was revealed to be the magical terrorist and his assistant, Nathalie, his accomplice, Adrien had been devastated. When the Paris police sought to find out the extent of Adrien's involvement, he had no choice but to reveal in a private interrogation room with only the mayor, Officer Roger, the chief of police, and Ladybug herself, his identity as Chat Noir. After which, Adrien said a tearful goodbye to Plagg and surrendered the ring of destruction to Ladybug. A press conference was held within an hour, absolving Adrien of any crimes in relation to his father, and his bodyguard would also be absolved four days later.

That night, after Ladybug had returned home and tearfully placed the ring, broch, and pin back in the miracle box; her parents and Grandma Gina had told her that they were going out to dinner to celebrate; Gina had even rented a car so they wouldn’t need to walk or take the subway. How Marinette wished that they had just gotten on the subway.

She woke up the following afternoon in the hospital. Apparently, her family weren’t the only people celebrating Hawkmoth’s defeat, and a car load of university students had celebrated too hard and T-boned their car while running a light. The doctors told her that her grandmother and father had died on impact and her mother passed away during surgery. Marinette had been extremely lucky to survive without any life threatening injuries; a broken leg, arm, collar bone, two cracked ribs, and a few lacerations across her body.

She was hardly paying attention to what the doctors were saying. Too shocked by the whole situation. There was no Miraculous Cure that could fix this. In the span of a single day, she had defeated her enemy, saved Paris, lost her partner, lost her grandmother, and her parents. She was alone.

When her family’s lawyer, M. Contere came to talk about custody, it was revealed that her grandmother was supposed to take custody in the event of her parents' deaths. Her grandfather would have been the next logical choice, but he had recently suffered a stroke and had been placed in a nursing home. This left the lawyer scrambling to find someone to take the girl or risk having her surrendered to the city of Paris.

Going through the Dupain-Chengs’ contact list, M. Contere made phone calls to numbers listed as family friends or emergency contacts. There were three that particularly stood out to him, all listed under the title of ‘uncle’.

The first was to an ‘Uncle J’; a woman answered the phone, introducing herself as Penny. When Contere told her it had to do with the Dupain-Chengs, the phone was handed to a man with a distinctly British accent. He sounded devastated to hear that Tom, Sabine, and Gina had all passed away before going into a panic and asking if Marinette was alright, showing absolute relief that she had survived the crash. When Contere mentioned the custody hearing, the man practically demanded to know the date, time, and place before promising that he would be there.

The second contact that stood out was labeled as ‘Uncle Tony’. That call was answered by an assistant named Jarvis before transferring the call to Tony. Again, Contere could hear the surprise and hurt at hearing that his friends had passed away before asking if Marinette had been in the car. When told that she had survived, there was relief and he mentioned that Peter would have probably cried for a week if he’d lost his childhood friend. Tony then offered to take custody of Marinette and Contere quickly told him the details.

Although M. Contere was relieved that at least two family friends/possible relatives seemed more than willing to take Marinette, he knew how fickle and difficult the courts could be and wanted as many options as possible for the girl, which led to the third contact labeled ‘Uncle Bruce’.

The phone was answered by an older sounding gentleman named Alfred before transferring the call. Contere could hear multiple voices in the background, most sounding like young men, and when he told Bruce about the passing of Tom, Sabine, and Gina; it went very quiet for a moment before all the voices began speaking at once demanding to know what happened, who was responsible, and if Marinette was okay. M.Contere answered the questions that he could and told them that Marinette was in need of a legal guardian. Bruce said Gina had been a great friend and mentor to him when he was younger and that he would be honored to care for her granddaughter. So he told him the details of the court hearing with the promise that he would make sure that Marinette was taken care of until then.

After hanging up, M. Contere had a strange feeling that he couldn’t shake. A feeling that told him that those three ‘Uncles’ were either going to make his job of getting Marinette into a stable home a lot easier… or it would be a total nightmare.

~oOo~

The day of the hearing was a Monday and Marinette's case was the first on the docket, which was a relief. If things went smoothly, she could be placed with one of her respective uncles by the end of the week and be taken care of. When the two of them stepped into the room, with Marinette rolling beside him in her wheelchair, M. Contere was surprised to see multiple familiar faces in the courtroom that he had not expected. Jagged Stone, Bruce Wayne, and Tony Stark were glaring, arguing, and puffing out their chests at each other; ignoring everyone else in the room. He also noticed how each man seemed to have an entire team of lawyers backing them up.

The tension and glaring match only broke when the two women; Pepper Potts and Penny Rolling, and the four Wayne boys; Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damien, noticed Marinette’s arrival.

“Marinette, sweetie, how are you feeling?” Penny asked as she walked away from Jagged to kneel beside Marinette’s wheelchair.

“Been better, but I’m glad to see some familiar faces,” she said with a weak smile.

Pepper leaned over a bit to give the girl a gentle hug while minding her injuries. “We’re here for you, Mari. No matter what.”

Then the four boys were almost surrounding her, offering to hunt down the people that took away their family and pile so many lawsuits on them that they’ll die of papercuts. This made her chuckle and grimace a bit from the pain, telling the boys that was sweet but unnecessary.

Jagged, Bruce, and Tony immediately put their argument on hold as they hurried over to check on the girl as well. Contere found it to be a good sign that Marinette seemed familiar with the three men, that they all asked how she was and if she wanted anything, as well as promising that they would take care of her. That last one, the three said at the same time and got them glaring at each other again. This caused Contere to sweat and Marinette to give her head a resigned shake.

What followed would probably go down as the most intense, well argued, and most headache-inducing case in the history of the Paris Family Court System with all three men vying for custody of the teenage girl.

Being able to provide financial stability wasn’t a concern as Jagged Stone was currently the most successful rockstar in Europe, Asia, Australia, and the Americas; while Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne were two of the wealthiest businessmen in the entire world. All three even offered to completely cover Marinette’s tuition to any school she wanted, so long as she was accepted.

Her safety turned out to be a large factor with all three men, and they were willing to hire their own private security to make sure that she stayed safe at all times. However, the three men also argued how the others lived in unsafe environments.

Jagged mostly lived in tour buses and out of hotels, which was a factor; but he was willing to call off his tours during the school year and only go on tour during school breaks so Marinette would never be without her guardian. Penny was also willing to help Jagged at every turn, stating that she loved Marinette like a niece and would make sure that she had a strong female role model in her life as well.

Tony’s reputation as a playboy and his identity as Iron Man brought up the possibility of attracting a dangerous element. He argued that his homes were equipped with the most advanced security systems on the planet. As well as being friends with an actual “God-Alien”, who had met Marinette and liked her a great deal. Tony was also willing to make Marinette her own personal Iron Suit that would be programmed to protect and fly her to a safe location at the first sign of danger. Pepper also offered to share custody as she already took care of Tony’s daily life as his assistant, taking care of Marinette would be easy and she was looking forward to having her around.

Bruce’s residence in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in North America, was a big factor. Bruce made a point that he already had experience as a guardian of his three adopted sons and his biological son, and they were kept safe. That he also had a top of the line security system at his home, which was located outside of city limits. Dick, Jason, and Tim also commented that they thought of Marinette like a little sister and that Wayne Enterprises had locations all over the world. If the judge decided that Gotham was too dangerous, one of them would gladly take up residency in a city that the judge approved and would stay there to watch over Marinette while still working and providing for her.

After two hours of listening to the back and forth of the three men and their lawyers, the judge decided that he’d heard enough for the day and set the next meeting for the following Thursday after lunch. He also recommended that the men bring proof that they have the mental capability of caring for a teenage girl, lists of schools near their homes to show that she will continue her education, and character witnesses, if available.

The three men wanted to take Marinette out to get something to eat after the court was adjourned, but M. Contere was forced to tell them that it would not be appropriate during the legal proceedings. He also recommended that they follow the judge’s instructions and make sure that they had everything needed, otherwise they would likely not qualify. Hearing that got all three men, their assistants, family, and lawyers moving at top speeds to get everything they needed for court in a few days.

Once they were out of sight, the lawyer couldn’t help but let out a stress induced sigh as he raised one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. This custody battle had the potential to turn into a total circus, and although it could do great things for his career in the long run, he was more worried about how this would affect Marinette.

Speaking of, he was brought from his thoughts when he felt her small hand gently pat the hand that was holding his briefcase. When he looked down at her, she gave him a kind, though slightly amused smile. “You had no idea about the can of worms you were opening when you made those phone calls, did you?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “How was I supposed to know that Uncle J, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bruce would turn out to be three of the most influential men in the world? How does your family even know all of them?”

“Uncle Bruce was raised by the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth, after his parents died. Grandma Gina and Alfred were best friends when they were younger. After the Waynes died, Gina would go check on them in Gotham, she liked to brag that she helped get Bruce back out of his shell. Uncle Tony knew my parents back in university, he was a lot younger and smarter than the other students and you can guess that didn’t go over well with some of them. My parents looked out for him and they became friends, and even after he got busy when he took over the company, he always made time to be there for the big moments in our lives; my parents’ wedding, their baby shower, and when I was born. I’ve actually spent a few summers in Gotham and New York visiting them.”

“And Jagged Stone?”

“He’s the most recent of my honorary uncles. I’m his personal designer, but he got unofficially adopted into my family after the tv show that took place in my parents’ bakery. Uncle Jagged made a bread guitar and sang rock songs with my dad. Once the show was over, Mom invited him and Penny to stay for dinner. During the course of the night, Dad claimed him as a new little brother. Jagged was so happy that he started calling my parents big brother and big sister, and started calling me his niece. Since then, he’s come over at least once a month to just relax and be a family with us.”

M. Contere couldn’t help but smile at that. From the sound of it and what he had seen, all three men truly cared about this girl and were willing to bend over backwards for her. That was a good thing, but he still worried that a custody battle between these three men could go for a long time and possibly cause mental distress for Marinette. Although the final decision was ultimately up to the judge, he was allowed to make recommendations if they were in the best interests of the child.

With that in mind, he knelt down beside Marinette. “You know the three of them and what they’re living situations are like better than I do. And even though you’re not 15 years old yet, I could petition the judge to factor your opinion. Which of them would you like to have guardian status?”

When Marinette gave him a knowing smile, he just knew that things might get more complicated.

~oOo~

It got a lot more complicated.

The media had caught wind of the custody battle, causing a giant crowd of paparazzi to stake out the courthouse to catch a glimpse of the rockstar, billionaire, and the self proclaimed “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist” who was also a superhero. To their credit, the three only said that they were devastated by the loss of the Dupain-Chengs and wanted to do what was best for Marinette and left all the other questions at the door.

In the courtroom; all three men, as well as their assistants and Bruce’s boys, had done mental evaluations that their lawyers submitted to the judge. They also provided lists of different schools that Marinette was free to choose from; including public schools, private, and even schools that specialized in fashion. But the absolute kicker was the character witnesses.

Jagged Stone had brought other music stars, movie stars, and production mega stars that made Contere wonder for a moment if he’d accidentally walked into an award ceremony. Tony Stark had brought the Avengers, The Avengers, as his character witnesses. Contere wasn’t too proud to admit that he was a bit starstruck when Thor himself came over to great Marinette and complimented her on her ‘battle scars’, saying that they were a testament to her strength. If that wasn’t enough, Bruce brought multiple members of the Billionaire’s Club as character witnesses, many of whom had been suspected of being members of the Justice League.

The judge looked just as surprised, though somewhat irritated, by the people crowding his courtroom. He quietly looked over the mental health evaluations that had been provided, as well as the lists of schools; finding that everything was in order and that any of them would have been wonderful guardians to the girl. He was tempted to call another recess and pick this back up the following week until Marinette’s lawyer raised his hand.

“If it would please the court,” the judge motioned for him to continue, “although Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is not yet of legal age to make a final decision on the matter of custody, I felt that she was old enough to state her opinion. We have discussed it over the past few days and I believe we came up with a proposal that will satisfy all parties involved while still being in the best interest of the child.” M. Contere presented the four copies of the proposal to the bailiff, who handed one to the judge, and the three lead lawyers.

The judge read the summary at the top before looking at the lawyer in surprise. “You’re proposing joint custody?”

“Yes, your honor. My client and I feel that due to the influence that these men hold, as you can see by the character witnesses that have come here to speak on their behalf, that this custody hearing could be drawn out for a long time, which could have mental repercussions on Marinette.” Contere didn’t miss the ‘you ain’t kidding’ roll of his eyes, or the looks of shame that the three men shared at the thought of hurting Marinette.

“Keeping that in mind, my client came up with an outline for a possible custody agreement. M. Stark would retain custody during school as he has listed one of the top fashion schools in America, which would further Marinette’s future career. The weekends would be spent with M. Wayne, as Wayne Enterprises has connections to the fashion industry and would be able to give her training to help her successfully run her own business. M. Stone would have custody during summer breaks, so Marinette may continue gaining experience as his personal designer, a position she has held for close to a year and has already earned her recognition in the industry.”

The judge grew quiet again as he contemplated the proposal and read over the details. He didn’t want to deal with these three powerful, and in a lot of ways eccentric, men for the next few months while attempting to figure out the best placement for the child. Nor did he want to deal with the media frenzy that this case had already brought on. If anything, this was likely the best option, if he could get the men to agree to the terms.

“Do you have any objections to this proposal?”

There was a moment of silence as the lawyers continued to look over the proposal and spoke to their clients. Jagged’s lawyer was the first to respond. “No, your honor. M. Stone believes that this would be best for Marinette, but we would like to add a clause that M. Stone be permitted to call and visit Mlle. Dupain-Cheng so long as it does not interfere with her school work.”

“My client would also like that clause added to the proposal, your honor,” said the Wayne lawyer. “As well as the clause that Messieurs Stone and Stark work together with M. Wayne in securing Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s safety. As previously stated, all three men could be considered high-priority targets and normally require bodyguards. M. Wayne has proposed that any potential bodyguard be vetted and approved by all parties involved before being hired.”

The judge looked to Stark’s lawyer. “And do you have any stipulations you would want to see added to the proposal?”

“Only that there be an open line of communication between Messieurs Stone, Wayne, and Stark at all times in reference to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s well being and any possible travel. As all three men are known to travel the world for business; there will be occasions for the child to travel as well. When this occurs, the other guardians should receive notice of the country, city, and address that she resides; so, in case of an emergency, they will be able to be present to assist and protect her.”

“My client has no objections to these clauses,” said Jagged’s lawyer.

“And you, M. Wayne?”

The Wayne lawyer nodded. “The clauses are more than reasonable and are in the best interest of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. Although I only speak for my client, I do not believe that I would be out of line to say that is the main focus of Messieurs Stone and Stark as well.”

The lawyers hid their relief when the judge nodded in agreement. “As the proposal was presented by the child and the three of you are in agreement, I’m scheduling a meeting in my chambers for next Tuesday to go over the finer details of the custodial agreement. I will allow your clients and one lawyer each to attend; this includes you and your client, M. Contere.”

“Yes, your honor.”

“And as for you, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette’s head snapped up to meet the judge’s gaze. “It seems that you have gained three extremely powerful, influential, and in many ways crazy guardians. I don’t know if I should congratulate you or give you my sympathies. What I will do is wish you the best of luck and hope that you are prepared for the future. Court is adjourned.”

There was a hum of surprise and joy that spread through the courtroom as Jagged, Bruce, and Tony stepped up to each other and shook hands before approaching Marinette and M. Contere.

“Of course, my niece would come up with a way to keep everyone happy, she’s so rock n’ roll that way.” Jagged beamed with pride as Tony and Bruce nodded in agreement.

“Would it be alright if all of us went to dinner to celebrate,” Bruce asked Contere, indicating the ‘all’ to be himself and his boys, Jagged and Penny, and Tony and Pepper; along with Marinette and Contere.

“So long as there’s no discussion of custody and everyone stays civil, I don’t see any harm in it.”

Everyone smiled in agreement while Pepper mentioned that she’d just finished making reservations for all eleven of them at a nice restaurant that had the best view of the Eiffel Tower.

As the others began filing out of the courtroom, Marinette patted his hand and gave him a sympathetic look. “You just opened your second can.”

M. Contere wasn’t sure about what she’d meant until after the meal was over and the waitress brought the check, and then watched as the three billionaires fought over it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he only hoped that this would all be over on Tuesday and he could go back to his normal, boring cases.

#ml fic #ml prompt #marinette deserves better #maribat #ml au #bruce wayne #tony stark #jagged stone #marinette dupain cheng

2K notes · View notes

palettesofrenaissance · 3 years

Note

Oh my heavens, I just spent the last hour on your blog and reading through your fics! FAN F-ING FABULOUS! Loved every single one! I also just read the buckysarah prompt, literally on FIRE, so HOTTTT

I don’t know if you’re taking anymore prompts, but if you are, in any timeline of your choosing or even beyond your current au, a fic where Bucky says “i’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop.” Or “say my name” to Sarah would repair the ozone layer and create world peace.

Also if you don’t feel like it fits their characterization, I totally understand and respect that! I would love whatever you put out either way🙌🏾

“melting/passion”

pairing: sarah wilson x bucky barnes

setting: in the past of the reincarnation/soulmates AU, pre- CA:TFA, 1940s

words: 5k-something 🙃 shit

warning: explicit, 18+ ONLY

note: this is a part of an alternative NSFW timeline to The Physical World series. in their past lives sarah calls him “james” instead. THIS IS UNEDITED so beware. an edited version will be up on ao3 in time. An edited version and a sequel are on ao3. reblog fics you like an improved edited version is now on ao3!

“Who the fuck is Alfred?”

Rolling her eyes, Sarah doesn’t even give him the satisfaction of a response and just continues walking down the campus sidewalk, holding the books that wouldn’t fit in her bag.

Minutes ago, she’d been exiting a college building with a tall fellow who has been bidding for her attention for months. Her head reaches his chest; he’s light brown skin, wiry, has a sharply cut jaw but cute face, loose, dark curls, and large dark eyes. He’s nice, generous, and so far, patient. He stays, and she doesn’t have to skirt around society to do something as simple as hold hands. For a lot of reasons, he’s acceptable—he’s safe—but so far, she hasn’t been one hundred percent into putting her foot forward.

After exiting the building, Alfred asks if they were still to meet up for their study date. Sarah nodded, that twinge of guilt returning, and they shared a hug before departing in different directions. Sarah notices James watching all too late, leaning against a light post. She pausing in her tracks, then remembering her surroundings, shakes his glare off and continues on with a chin held higher than need be. Of course he comes up beside her.

“Sarah, what was—what is going—what is that?” He tugs at his hair. There’s more hurt than anger in his tone.

“What was what, James?” She’s entirely unamused but the kindling of a heated emotion surrounds her.

“That! The way you two were back there. Really, who is Alfred?” He’d overheard her saying her classmate’s name in departure.

“He’s not someone you should worry yourself with,” Sarah finally answers at a red crosswalk light, refusing to even look at him.

Eyes wide and appalled, his attention is entirely on her and blind to the double glances from others. He’s the only White person in the vicinity, currently in the predominantly Black and Brown borough.

“Why the hell not?” His gait rigid and stifled as the light changes and tells them to walk—it’s the lingering evidence of his training and different then before he left. “Why should I not get concerned when you’re out here with him. Are you spending all your time with him, too? Where is this study date, even?”

Sarah doesn’t get seven paces from the crosswalk before she swings around into his face. “You don’t get to question me about my whereabouts, James Buchanan Barnes!” A pointer finger hits his chest at his name—her nails painted red. “Not when you disappeared for a year!”

His pout sinks into a frown. “I was training in the military—you know that!”

“After you already enlisted, you told me!”

He needs a moment to think of a response. By the time he does, she’s already walking away, so he hurries to catch and match her pace. “It was just some training. Official enlisting haven’t started anyway.”

She responds with silence, quickening her pace, and it quickly drives him crazy.

“Say something. Don’t do this.”

Still, she remains silent.

“Speak, please!”

They’re three blocks away from her residence—a small apartment building that rents some of its rooms to Black and Brown female college students.

“Sarah, come on!”

And still she’s tight-lipped.

“Goddamnit, Sarah! What the hell?”

Her storming pace draws the looks from several strangers. A pair of tall brown-skinned men even jump from the cement doorsteps to stop in Bucky’s way.

“It’s okay—I’m with her,” he tries in a rush, trying to bypass around, but they’re determined to cage him.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” one says.

“Not unless the dame says so,” speaks the other. He calls over his shoulder, “Hey! Miss! This White guy causing you trouble?”

Halting, Sarah turns, sees what’s happened, and groans. It’s not like they could truly do much but the sentiment is appreciated. Stalking to stand as close as she can, the men’s’ arms creating a protective barrier, Sarah glares up James—and it isn’t anger like he’d prepared for; instead, it’s betrayal. After leaving him in suspense, she finally tells both men that she’s alright and after a hesitation they let him go.

She still walks the final block to her residence’s door without speaking. He’s the one still holding conversation, talking as if he’s trying to defendhimself.

Coming to the doors of her residence, Sarah’s departing is a dejected, “I’m leaving. I’m finished with this,” It’s an indication that she’s done with this dispute. Turns and vanishes through the door, she ignores Bucky’s panicked, “finished? Finished with what?” Climbing the stairs, she grips her textbooks, hearing him calling her name twice.

She isn’t expecting but isn’t surprised to find he’s climbed the fire escape near her window and is sitting on the outside ledge. He’s done it many times before, it the only way to skirt around the building’s “No men after-hours” and “For Coloreds only” policy. Sarah puts away her belongings and is going to her dresser drawers when she sees he’s sitting patiently, side of his head against the glass, tearing off small shreds of paper from some scavenged flyer. After glancing to see she’s there, he taps on the glass. “Come on, Sarah. Talk.”

She doesn’t, instead leaving to wash her face. Returns to lets her hair loose from its updo and shrug off her jacket, hanging it in her small closet. He glances inside again; sees she’s still refusing to acknowledging him.

James sighs, gaze downcast, tearing off another small piece of the flyer. Loudly so only her room hears, he solemnly begins: “There is a lady sweet and kind, was never a face so pleasing to my mind. I did but see her passing by and yet I love her till I die.”

Inside, Sarah stops, finally looking over to the window.

He continues reciting from memory with some verbiage liberty. “Her gesture, motion and her smiles; her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles. Beguiles my heart I know not why, and yet I love her till I die.” Four more tiny shreds of paper flutter down the three stories.

Folding her arms, Sarah slowly walks to the window to watch and wait.

“Cupid is winged and doth range. Her country so my love does change. But change she earth, or change she sky, yet will I love her till I die.” Three more shreds are torn off.

Sarah’s still frowning. After a moment to think, she finally speaks. “Are you reciting Shakespeare to me?”

James doesn’t look up nor replies. Another shred of paper falls.

“You’re insufferable, thinking it’s all going to be the way you want things to be, huh?” Still, she pushes up the glass.

Slowly he shakes his head with closed eyes. “That’s not it.”

“You’re jealous, then? He’s been my classmate for the past year and nothing’s been—”

“I’m not—” He swings his legs inside, having to crouch to get through, closing the window back. “I’m not jealous. I’m…” Eyes running over her decorated walls, her tidy bed and books arranged on a small side table, all things he’s very familiar with. “I go away for one year and I… and you go find someone else.”

“A lot can happen in a year. It’s a long time.”

His jaw clenches but his face softens, beginning to fall. It’s true but it punches him in the gut with the force of an elephant.

“I’m doing this for you,” is repeated.

“No, James. You’re doing this for yourself. You’ve always wanted to go into the military, haven’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, only spoken to help her argument.

“That’s not the point—!”

“That’s entirely the point. This is your idea—this is what you wanted. Did you ever think to ask me, before enlisting? To see if I wanted to deal with the possibility of you actually being called into the war, God forbid? Did you ever stop to think how I would feel having to sit there and wait and worry whether you would survive?” She’s shaking—her voice, her hands on her chest for emphasis—he sees, expression changing. “How I would feel if you didn’t come back alive, leaving me?”

During his time away, she’s had months to brew and turn over her thoughts, now all coming out in a burst of emotion.

“Well?”

Blinking, his expression is unreadable. Finally, “I did think of that—too late, I admit, but this time is a risk I’m willing to take. The benefits—”

“Did it ever occur to you that I would have been just equally happy with you having a normal job and us living a normal life?”

There’s a lot of things that couldn’t be done with a normal American job and she knows that. “The fact is, I felt betrayed,” she reveals.

“That wasn’t my intention—”

Shaking her head, Sarah turns away. She’d been ready to put this behind her, had concluded that he’d lost interest, found someone else himself. She’d been working on moving on before he showed up, unannounced—all this she says aloud. James reaches out, pulls her back, holds her face in his hands and tries to kiss her but Sarah pushes out his grasp.

“No. No, I can’t.”

Visibly more hurt, James just stands in the middle of her bedroom.

“This isn’t fair. You knew this wasn’t fair.”

“I didn’t leave you. I did this for you—for us, for our future.” He reaches out for her again, this time more tentatively. This time, she allows him to pull her into a hug. “I didn’t think it would bother you this much before.”

“You never bothered to ask.” Too soon, she gently pushes away. “I know you’ll go and do that anyway and I’ll…deal with it, but don’t expect me to sit and wait the entire time you’re. I’m going to do what’s right for me. I need you to understand that—even with as many study dates I make.”

At the reminder of the upcoming date, James’ face falls for another reason, his gaze shooting to the floor. “Can’t you cancel it? You’re smart enough to pass on your own.”

She isn’t, she tells, and urges him that there’s no need to be jealous over a classmate.

“I’m not jealous. It’s that…” Slowly inhaling, he looks up from the carpet to meet her gaze. “Seeing him, watching the way he was with you… I’m worried because that’s how I looked at you.”

Eyes widening, her shoulders slump, catching on the past tense. “Looked?”

“Yes. Before I left. Now, I can do it again.”

A silence covers the room, heavy with words still unspoken and actions withheld. James’ hands softly squeeze her shoulders. Sarah’s hang at her sides.

From downstairs, three pairs of feet are heard running down a hallway. Wisps of someone’s record playing reaches them. Once, a loud laugh is heard from a far bedroom. Outside, city ambience fills the rest of the silence.

James tries to smile, hopeful, reassuring, but it comes out sad. “I missed you,” is said but met with silence. “I came to see you.”

“Before you leave again?” is spoken after a beat.

“No. I’m here for a while.”

A saddened look on his face, Sarah’s focus drops to the pout of his mouth. “So you’re here for a while and all you wanted to do was see me?” Her stare is obvious, purposefully so, and James’ breathing slows. “You said you missed me.” Her hands rise to the buttons of her blouse, and he stares at her exposed skin.

Wetting his lips, James’ stare followers her fingers’ patient movements. “Sarah, wait…”

She doesn’t. ��I missed you, too.” The top of her bra is shown, goosebumps exploding on the swells of her breasts, exposed to the air and the intensity between them. “A year’s a long time and you still want to wait? Was it not long enough?”

She stops finally, the top of her blouse slides down her shoulders on their own, and he swallows, unmoving.

“Well if you insist. Maybe after my study session with Alfred, you’ll feel more up to it.”

It and his name are spoken purposely, he knows, but it still sets him off, falling into her trap. Stepping closer so they’re toe-to-toe, he pauses to asks, “so are you’re still angry at me?”

She frowns, it not severe. “Oh, I’m furious! But like I said, a year’s a long, long time.” Wasting no more time, she stands on tiptoe to encircle his neck to kiss him deeply. Before long, she opens her mouth for his tongue and she’s pulling at the fastenings of his shirt as he walks backwards to her bed. Shrugging it off, Sarah then climbs onto his lap, the room heating in a feeling that still contains traces of their disagreement. Dark, soft hands hold his face as if it would keep him near, avoiding the eventual inevitable leave.

Her toes curl within her pantyhose, her hips gyrating once, the fire in the pit of her stomach rekindling.

Large, pale fingers finish undoing the buttons of her blouse, find the clasp of her bra, and breaking the kiss to ask, “can I…?” loosens it upon her approval. After letting it slide it off her arms, Sarah sighs then moans at the sensation of his palms gliding up her breasts she’s ached for. Squeezing them once. Gropes them. Holds them in his palm, the flesh spilling over his fingers, a thumb each rubbing circles over her dusky nipples. This earns a whimper—a delicious sound to his ears that encourages his hips to meet hers in another grind. Reveling in the attention and long-awaited touch, she’s quick to block out the background noise of the apartment as well as the knowledge of its thin walls—she moans as James’ mouth leaves with one last peck before reacquainting himself with her skin starting with her sweet spot on her neck, his thumbs still rolling around her nipples.

Sarah grinds continuously now, nails scratching at his back, loving the heat from having his body flush against hers. Knees raising to instinctually wrap around him, the rest of the building and world is none existent—everything but her soulmate’s wet kisses across her shoulders and down her chest are to be dealt with tomorrow.

A pinch to her nipples causes her spine to arch, forcing her bosom further into his hands. Rolling them over so she’s lying on her bed, he’s nuzzling her chest, awed at how soft she is, how perfect and pretty—though, a small remaining voice tells her it’s more aimed at her breasts. Leaning up to kisses her mouth once, he then ducks to taking her dark, pebbled nipple in his own. Her responding gasp shoots straight to his groin, twitching, trapped between his own weight and her bed. His following suck wretches his name from her lips.

“Oh, James!”

A fellow student walking down the hall stops, thinking she’s heard a voice. Not hearing it repeated, she shrugs and descends the third floor.

“I want you to be mine,” his voice rumbles deep in his chest, mouthing along the valley between her breasts, moving to the other eager nipple. “Always.” His lips enclose around it as her hands tangle in his short hair.

Glancing up, he notes how she bites her lip, the short huffs she gives, feels her heat close, so close to his thigh. He wants to reach down and slide his fingers inside her to feel her clench and flutter around him. James gives a particularly hard suck to document and memorize how her face scrunches up, flicks his tongue around it to watch the way her head tosses to the side.

His other hand is twisting her neglected pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger—the more sensitive one, he remembers, drinking up her whines and wriggling hips—before deciding to depart with one last, flat-tongued lick, then a kiss to each. The contrast to their skin is something she watches, feeling his hand wrap around her left side to hold her while his mouth leaves kisses—innocent compared to ones before—down the bottom of her breasts, down her sternum, across her stomach, coming to a stop at her skirt.

Sarah swallows, watching him kiss above the clothing, hands sliding down her sides to settle on her ass.

“Buttercup,” he starts, voice ruff with arousal yet sweet. “Are you too mad to keep these on?”

Sarah’s very close to glare at him. But since words are taking a bit longer to form in her mind, she just lifts her hips, allowing him access to the fastenings.

The sight—him tossing the garment to the floor, lowering to his stomach as his kisses decent, trailing from her thighs to her ankles, giving a final teasing, exaggerated nip with his teeth before kissing her soaked apex—she prays she’s able to keep it locked in her mind.

A long, drawn out, “Oh, fuck,” fills her bedroom from deep within his chest. Kisses her again; her breath hitches. “You’re so wet.” Another, this one with much tongue. “Did you—do you like arguing?”

The trace of shock is nearly lost to her. “What? No, no, I just—” Her feeble excuse cuts off into a shaky, loud gasp, grip tightening in his hair momentarily.

“Sure looks like you do.”

Now, she’s sure the sight of him looking up at her with that smug grin will be the image that remains in her mind.

He’s pulling from memory about how much pressure on her clit makes her squirm, about how much suction on her labia that makes her thighs tense, also that she likes slow, gentle kisses.

James eats her out until her heavy sighs become cute, needy moans that send him into clouds. Then, slides two wet fingers in her pussy, he’s paying extra attention to her clit to have her squirming around his shoulders. She’s dripping down his hand now, his own breath unsteady, his erection raging beneath him. She’s squeezing around him with every pressured stroke of his tongue, so, rightfully, he inserts a third.

Sarah’s teeth dig into her bottom lip, barely remembering to keep her volume low as her back bows at the delightful stretching from his fingers. There’s a watch around his wrist that reads it’s nearing sunset. James’ free arm is wrapped around her thigh, giving distracting squeezes every now and then, while Sarah’s left to stare, unseeing, at the ceiling as he moves inside her.

“Oh my god. It’s been too long,” he groans, pants, muffled by his soulmate’s heat and making her blush, ignoring how her juices are slowly dripping down his chin. His mouth shows love to the rest of her apex, loving her hands knotted in his hair. His hand picks up speed and he can feel the ball-shaped spot that makes her cry out. Eyes closed halfway, his tongue works her closer magically; his fingers press that spot inside her and she begins to tense.

From memory, he retrieves a certain combination and movements that makes her legs shake and weak come the next day. She remembers too, apparently, because as soon as he starts, she’s pushing his head away.

“Wait! Not so—God—I have somewhere to go tomorrow!”

Holding tight to her thighs, he fights against her already weakened hands. “Yeah, I know. But today I’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

Taking her whimper as a positive sign, he reaches from around her thigh to gently squeeze and play with one nipple. Applying open-mouthed kisses to her pussy lips, James lets her soft whines and mewls wash over him. He gradually works up to the specific moves, it not taking long before she’s higher-pitched and noisy, her legs closing around his head in reflex. The shivering of her body is his confirmation that she’s growing close—his hand speeds up, hitting her g-spot.

Sarah cums with her hand pressed firmly to her mouth to contain her noise.

He slows but doesn’t stop until she’s stopped shivering from aftershocks. After licking her clean, he removes his fingers, sucks them as well, then trails soaking kisses up the middle of her body. At her neck, he remembers to wipe his face with the back of his arms—she watches, a shutter going through her and making her tremble where he’d just left her. After leaving a last kiss on her jaw, James rolls to her side, happily watching her come down.

“I can’t move,” she groans, to which he smiles. “It’s not funny.”

He’s got a cheek propped on a fist, gazing at her in adoration. To him, he’s seeing his best girl disheveled, a spent mess. “It kind of is, though.” A hand entwines with hers. Raises it to kiss the back of her hand. “I’ll let you rest for a minute before going for round two.”

Stunned, her jaw drops. “What—second?”

He nods, sitting up. “Yup. I was serious.”

Words escape her.

“Show me how you touched yourself.”

“We really didn’t have the time. Or the energy. Training was pretty exhausting and time-consuming.”

“Okay. Well, then use your imagination. How would you have?”

“That really wouldn’t be a good idea to do there.” The accompanying chuckle is brittle, dying as soon as it arises.

“But are you there, right now? Or, are you here, with me?” Sarah crawls the short distance to cup his chin for a short kiss, watching his eyes flutter closed.

“With you. I’d always pick with you,” is breathed against her mouth.

“Now I don’t want to be the only one undressed.” So, she repeats her request: “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

Wasting no time, he’s undoing his pants for her. This isn’t the first time they’ve spent a night together, obviously, but it always feels like it with how enraptured they are for each other.

Her excuse is that she’s regaining her stamina—a partial truth. Clad in only a bra and her panties, leaning back on her side, Sarah watches James stroke himself three times over his underwear, removes them down his thighs to continue, bare. Sarah couldn’t help her small smile, watching him start, immediately emitting moans and impatient whines—he’s been so erect, practically begging. Between repetitions of curses and lines of gratitude, her dark hand rubs across his chest, scratches along his tensed stomach, drags up his heaving chest. He winces, his hands in a fast against himself. Dazed, he opens his mouth to another kiss as she leans. Gasps feeling a hand of hers teasing the underside of his blushing head.

James removes a hand to lean back against. Lost in his own long-awaiting pleasure and Sarah surrounding him, it makes her smirk at a shuddered breath that wracks him as her hand descends to cup his scrotum. He’s loud and when she rolls him around her palm. He barely holds himself together when she gives a light squeeze. And she soarsinside by the full-body shiver he makes, her hand continuing to tease him.

“You’re so hard,” Sarah purrs in his ear.

A sharp, vocal exhale is his response.

“I love your sounds. So sweet.” A quick swipe of her tongue along the shell of his ear creates a responding low growl.

“You’re leaking. Are you getting close?”

A whimpered “oh my God” is her first answer. “I want to finish—” She kisses him quick and sweet, unfitting for the moment. “I want to finish inside you. I need to make you cum.”

No matter having done this several times before, she still gets flustered by this. By his rosy cheeks and half-lidded stare, swollen pouted mouth and prepared manhood.

Then, as if it’s necessary, he asks to have sex with her. “Please, Sarah,” he growls against her thick lips, and begs to make love to her.

With a whirlwind of butterflies inside her, she simply nods, braces against the mattress as he turns over to kiss her thoroughly, eagerly, transferring his attention to her body.

The bed springs aren’t loud but they aren’t unheard. But since the third floor is moderately active, the activity happening behind her bedroom door isn’t given much thought. Once, a resident comes out the bathroom, pauses, and suspects, but thinks she’d be a hypocrite to tell. So she shrugs and returns to her own room.

Back inside her room, Sarah’s loving the how James crowds around her, his body’s weight a comfort, the quake in his voice a devotion as she reaches between them to stroke him, hot and heavy and leaking against her stomach. When he pulls her underwear back down, he’s like an impatient kid at Christmas.

“Is this round two?” is teased, his nose between her breasts.

She barely gets a response so she stops him with a hand to his chest. Blinking to clear the haze, he’s soon seeing her clearly and smiles—but it isn’t his normal, harmless smile. No, this is a smile that wants to see her drip, watch her melt, make her twist and beg and bounce on his dick.

Holding her wrist to his chest, James plants a light kiss on her, too caught off guard to speak.

“Do you have any thins?”

Sarah only manages a nod and chin’s thrust toward her small end table. The thought about when she bought new ones is a fleeting thought as he lowers to mouth at her sex as he rolls a condom onto himself. Still stunned, Sarah watches without objection as he kisses her filthily. Watches him lift a leg to his shoulder. Then, guiding himself with practiced precision, eases inside her. She’s hot and soaping and snug like he remembers—swallowing her lovely wail at the stretch of him. Nails scratching just below his neck, she shutters violently, tossing her head back when he pushes to the hilt.

There’s something about soulmates, it’s said, that just like both unconsciously insert and entangle themselves in each other’s lives, there’s an ungodly connection and, on occasional recounts, a sensitivity that it’s believed results from the matching heartbeats.

As Sarah lays with her neck arched and her soulmate’s heated forehead pressed to her collarbone, she thinks, just maybe, that tale is true.

When they’ve regained breathing somewhat, James asks if she’s okay. But his voice is weak and drenched in pleasure she doesn’t think he’s alright either.

Sliding her hands from his pale shoulders up to grasp the hair at the base of his neck, she silently inquires another searing kiss. Her breathy request “love me” surrounds him like the softest encasing, washes over him; he’s finally given the reigns.

And he begins to move—slow, testing thrusts at first, their trembling breaths and quiet moans mixing together. Then she drags her nails down his neck and his hips pick up pace.

“Oh, lover, please me,” is sighed into his mouth. “Faster.”

A simple man, he obeys willingly.

This is how she likes it, he remembers—firm and steady, not too fast and not a snail’s pace; she likes being close enough to feel the heat of his body and practically his thumping heart. She cries out louder when she’s turned on her side with her leg on his shoulder—so he does just that, and fucks her sideways. When he’s inside her, she calls him “lover,” her breathing labored, and limbs a constrictor’s vice, keeping him near. She’s uncouth groaning and obscene moans that need thicker walls to cover, and he loves all of it: the sting of her nails down the back of his shoulders as his force increases, the gather of sweat above her clavicle that makes her dark skin sparkle, the comfort and warmth and lewd volume of her wetness, beauty of her expressions and knowing he’s the one to cause it.

They’re soulmates for a reason, the thought flits through his mind.

When she’s close to cumming, he reaches a hand between them to rub circles into her clit. Gives it a few light slaps before she’s tightening around him, her muscles fluttering in another sweet orgasm.

He lets her lie or a few minutes to bask. Then, he returns his hands to her body, pulling her to his chest to kiss her temple, forehead, and cheek.

Once she’s peacefully resting on his chest, James squeezes her ass. It becomes fondling, and then his hand is slipping between her legs to rub her to another orgasm, one he has to press a hand to her mouth in order to keep them from being found. Afterwards, he rubs himself back to an erection.

She thinks she’s spent for the night, but as he’s kissing her, her nether region tingling, she soon finds herself on top of him, hands pressed to his chest to move herself up and down his hard length. All the while, he’s praising her, complementing her, reminding her how amazing she feels, how wonderful her presence is, how her voice is like honey and nectar.

Sarah leans back, bracing her hands on his thighs and continues to move, hanging her head back. James moves his hands to her hips to help her along. Then when she feels her body readying to near its finish, she touches herself for him, cumming hard and loud, and long, his name a shaking gasp at the end. He follows quickly after.

He thinks she’s godly when she cums.

She never does beg him to stop.

It’s past sunset when they’ve exhausted. Still with their legs entangled, unknown amounts of time have ticked by of him gazing into her eyes. One arm beneath her head, other hand caressing the side of her face. Rubs his thumb from her eyebrow to her temple. There’s a dizzy sort of smile on his face—relaxed yet faraway. Sarah rests a hand over his on her face.

“I love you,” he breathes, like he means it. Watches her eyes widen a fraction, for a moment.

She’s rubbing her fingers across his chin, feeling the traces of stubble already growing. He waits, face slipping. Sarah takes his hand from her face, sweetly kissing the back. He has prominent veins and scars there that hadn’t been before he left.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back, quiet only for their own little world to hear.

The smile he gives is like he’s smiling at the moon.

“So would this count as our first fight?” She grins, thumb rubbing from his cheek to his chin.

“If so, we should do it more often. I didn’t know you liked to argue.”

Sarah laughs. It’s the most wonderful sound he’s heard in a while.

“I think I’m going to miss you saying my name the most.” It’s mostly a joke but she knows it holds some truth. “Can you do it again, for me?”

Scrunching her face in a confused smile, she stifles a chuckle.

Still stroking her cheek, he smiles. “Say my name, love.”

She only gives in because of the longing and sincerity of wanting to make up for stolen time.

“James,” she whispered, nearly overshadowed by the city ambience.

“Again,” his voice equally soft.

“James.”

“Again?”

“James.”

“How far into it are you?”

It’s the question that’s been heavy in her mind since his returned.

“I’m a private. But there’s been some things going on and they might move some people up a rank early.” Neither having yet moved from the bed, he’s playing with her fingers, and she wonders if he’s trying to memorize her.

The promotion would be good, she knows. The higher up he would be, the better he could purchase a house or fulfill his promise of farm for her, and, the larger yearly payment he would receive once his time is spent.

Her voice isn’t strong. “When do you go back?”

“In a couple of months.”

She wants to ask him to stay but that would be selfish, she thinks. When she looks at him, her heart hurts like a childhood friend leaving. As he kisses her once more, slow and serene, it feels like a seal but also a goodbye. She knows he has a family and a life a part from her but still a little bit of herself wants to be selfish...

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 8

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo

Tim woke up the next morning, because that’s how things work.

He fought back a groan as he slowly flexed each muscle individually, making sure that everything was still working. To his surprise, it actually was. His brain stuttered to a stop. Why had he been asleep, then? He was pretty sure it wasn’t his usual sleep day…

Then, he finally processed the fact that his face was pressed to something that definitely wasn’t his pillow.

He cracked an eye open. He was laying on top of Marinette, head resting on her stomach. She was still asleep, he noted, one of her hands was thrown over her eyes and the other tangled in his hair.

He vaguely considered just staying there. He could stay in that position forever…

Except he couldn’t. He had responsibilities. He was pretty sure that if he skipped both patrols and work his family would assume he’d been brainwashed in some way.

So, reluctantly, he pushed himself up and reached a hand out to poke Marinette awake.

She grumbled a little and caught his hand, blinking her eyes open. She looked up at him for a moment, uncomprehending in her sleepy state, and he couldn’t help but smile. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before clambering away from their tangle of limbs so he could take a quick shower and get ready.

First, though, he started up the coffee machine. He’d known that she’d had coffee, he’d been there when she bought it... but, really, if she was worried enough to lie about it he’d at least try and alleviate those fears a little.

That done, he took a quick shower. He already had a towel and toothbrush at the house -- wow, Marinette really wasn’t joking, he had basically moved in already, oops -- so he used those.

Then he pulled on the outfit she’d made him. By the time he needed help lacing up the corset, Marinette had stumbled into the room in a daze.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello?”

She held out one of two mugs for him and he was forced to hide his smile behind his cup.

“Could you help me with this,” he asked.

She nodded and downed her entire mug before walking behind him. He felt her forehead tip forward to rest against the back of his shoulder as she worked and he was very glad she couldn’t see his face because he was sure that he was beginning to get redder than their costumes.

She pulled the lace tight and tied it off and he had no clue if the tightness in his chest was because she had laced him too tightly or because of nerves but either way he didn’t really mind. He turned back around, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll see you later?”

She smiled at him. “I’ll make some bacon for you to eat on the go. Don’t want you to be hungry.”

He considered saying no but, really, he didn’t see her all that often in the morning and he had to admit that it was pretty cute. “If you remember to make some for yourself then sure.”

She hummed a little and turned around to go make food. He’d check on her in a few minutes to make sure she hadn’t fallen back asleep while cooking.

For now, he absently checked his clothes over for bugs. It was an old habit from years of living with the bats and, had he been even slightly more awake, he wouldn’t have done it.

Except he did. And there, hidden in the cuff of his shirt, was a bug.

… he hadn’t even been this happy when Damian had bugged him for the first time. She cared about him and his well-being! He was accepted!

When he made his way back into the kitchen he made sure to give her a long hug.

Marinette was so tired. She had been working on attaching the diamonds to Cassandra Wayne’s dress and there were so fucking many.

So, when Robin climbed through her window, all she did was give a vague wave of acknowledgement.

“You need better window locks,” he informed her.

“Most people don’t know how to pick every lock in existence, kid.”

“But some do.”

She thought about whether or not she really wanted this to be the argument that took up valuable work time. The answer was no, definitely not.

She finally turned to face him, resting her cheek against the couch. She didn’t know Damian personally outside of messing with Tim when they were in their superhero identities, she wasn’t even completely sure that this was Damian (though he did match up with the measurements she had for his outfits), so there was no good reason for him to be there.

She squinted suspiciously at him. Now that she was paying attention, she could see that he had his hands behind his back.

“What do you want?”

“I saw on your lease that you are allowed to have pets in your apartment.”

Oh no.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” she whispered, her voice close to begging.

He slowly brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal a black cat with almost luminous green eyes. She rested her head in her hands, taking deep breaths to remain calm.

“I wish to coparent with you.”

“... your dad didn’t let you get another pet?”

(Yes, she knew about the pet problem. She had seen Batcow. She had seen the Batbats all over the cave that he had apparently taken in.)

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Possibly.”

She slowly lifted her head from her hands to glare at him. Unfortunately for her, he puffed out his little baby cheeks in a pout and, even if most of what she did was played up to mess with Tim, she was weak for little kids that look sad.

“Fine. But you’re paying for everything and you better actually help me take care of it.”

“She! And her name is Vanelope!”

“Van --?” She decided she didn’t care. She glanced at Damian’s still disapproving expression and rolled her eyes before leaning down to be at the cat’s eye level: “I’m sorry for calling you an ‘it’, Vanelope.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied by her begrudging apology.

“C’mon, put Vanelope down, we’re going to the pet store.”

Damian beamed. She pulled the front of his hood down over his eyes in retaliation for the dumb situation he’d put her in. Revenge achieved, she transformed and ducked out her window before she could get stabbed.

Scarecrow’s parties were always the best.

For one thing, there was the haunted house. Scarecrow took the whole ‘scaring people’ thing very seriously, it was his whole shtick, so you could always count on him to dream up the best haunted houses. Even better, he’d give out brownies laced with minute traces of fear toxin to make the whole thing just a little bit scarier.

Speaking of brownies: the food. Tim was pretty sure that some of the stuff served at the parties could rival the things Marinette and Alfred made.

Then there were the venues he picked. They had to get bigger every year, what with Bruce’s adoption problem and the Rogue’s ever-expanding roster. This year the man had rented out an entire park and the building nearby. The building had a dance floor and a kind of second floor that overlooked everyone. The park held all the people that the building could not.

Add in the fact that every single person was probably clinically insane in some way or another and you’d have the reason for why he was always excited to go.

Tim attended the party as a Red Robin employee. He had to, it was on brand.

Marinette raised her eyebrows when she saw him. She’d gotten there before him, which had been a little bit of a surprise. He’d thought she’d at least wait for a few vigilantes to come to make sure it was safe --.

Oh. Nevermind. He stifled a grin when his eyes landed on a blonde in an outfit he recognized as Cassie’s. He was pretty sure dressing up as Wonder Girl was betraying the bats but he wasn’t going to be the one to call Steph out on it. Cassie was pretty cool...

Cassie -- no, Steph -- was suddenly grabbed by the arm by an excited Marinette and pulled her over to him. Marinette was wearing a pirate costume and he suspected that the bottle of wine in her free hand was more than an accessory.

“Red Robin, yum~,” both women chorused.

He rolled his eyes. “They’ve infected you already. Soon you’ll be disappearing into the shadows without ending conversations.”

Marinette grinned, the corner of her mask (now tinted black in some places to mimic a pirate’s beard) twitching. “It’s about time you assholes got a taste of your own medicine.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Y’know, for someone who didn’t like the idea of the party before, you sure did get into your outfit.’

“Please, I put effort into all my outfits.”

“Except for the Ladybug one,” teased Steph.

She huffed. “I was on a time crunch --.”

Tim grinned. “That’s no excuse.”

“... you had thought about it for who knows how long and not only did you come up with the name Drake, but you also came up with an ugly brown outfit. You don’t get a say in this.”

Steph grinned. “And me?”

“Your outfits are okay,” said Marinette after a few second’s thought.

Tim gasped in mock offense. “And I thought we were friends.”

“Friends call each other out for their stupid fashion choices.”

Steph smirked and slung her arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “And, really, you need an intervention.”

When did they start ganging up on Tim?

“Whatever. This outfit is nice, so that makes up for all past mistakes.”

“It’d be nicer if you didn’t make the same joke every year,” Steph teased.

He huffed and pouted, but then something caught his eyes. Dick had arrived, Tim could see him perched on a second floor railing in his work clothes… of course, the name tag marking him as Nurse Grayson was gone, but it was still the same light blue scrubs.

He paled a little under his domino for two reasons. The first was the instantaneous worry about their identities; sure, Gotham had many medical workers, but who knows, Gotham and Bludhaven twitter both insisted that Dick had a very distinct body. The second was Marinette was going to end up liking Dick quite a lot -- she already looked up to him for his fighting style, there was no way she was going to be able to resist the signature Grayson charm that had won over every superhero, vigilante, and villain on Earth (and a few other planets as well).

He knew that, inevitably, Dick would win her over… but he was definitely going to stall it as much as he possibly could.

So, he pulled a grin to his face. “Oh, Ladybug, you haven’t gone in the haunted house yet, have you?”

She gave him a slightly wary look. “I don’t do good with scary things.”

He grinned. “I’ll protect you.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly before sighing. “Fine.”

So, they made their way across the park to the haunted house. Scarecrow had, somehow, built an entire house in the one month since he had broken out of Arkham. It looked like it had been torn right out of a video game, with the blackened, decaying, and peeling wood and rickety steps.

Jonathan Crane smiled when he saw the two of them approaching. He was dressed as a scarecrow, but the one from the Wizard of Oz instead of the creepy one he was usually dressed as.

“Crane!” Tim greeted.

Crane held out the plate of fear toxin brownies for them. “Nice to see you, Red Robin. And nice to meet you, Ladybug.”

Marinette blushed a little, her head tipping to the side. “I’d shake your hand but you haven’t set down that tray the entire time I’ve been here. Starting to think you can’t.”

He laughed a little. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Tim smiled a little and popped a brownie in his mouth. Fear toxin tasted a lot like chili powder and, he had to admit, it was pretty good.

Marinette took a brownie with a lot more hesitance.

“Oh! Have you been exposed to fear toxin yet?” Asked Crane before she could take a bite.

Marinette looked a little worried about the use of the word ‘yet’.

Marinette shook her head, though. “No.”

“Then your immunity isn’t built up. I’d suggest just eating half of that.”

She nodded thoughtfully and broke the brownie in half. She held the halves in her hand awkwardly, unsure what to do now.

“I’ll take the half you haven’t eaten,” suggested Crane.

He set down the tray -- Tim swore he could hear a cartoon sound effect as the man struggled to unstick his hand to the metal -- and took her other half.

“Since it’s a lower dose it’ll probably take longer to take effect,” said Tim. “We’ll have to wait a bit so you can have the full experience.”

Marinette took a tentative bite and her eyes lit up. “This is really good. What’s your recipe?”

Apparently, Crane had once tried to replicate the taste with normal chili powder and had fallen short. Tim watched the two of them theorize what it could be that his attempts had been missing. It was clear that Marinette had missed living in a bakery more than she was willing to admit and, unfortunately, none of the bats were particularly good at even cooking basic meals, let alone the kinds of things she was able to do. Alfred was the only exception and, even then, Bruce wouldn’t let him near her most of the time because of Identity Reasons. Tim was glad that she had someone to talk to about it, he just kinda wished that that person wasn’t a Rogue.

Tim jolted out of watching them when Marinette started rubbing up and down her arms absently. Ah, the toxin must be setting in for her now.

“Ladybug, ready to head inside?”

She blinked and looked up from the conversation. “Oh. Sure. I’ll talk to you later!”

“I’ll try not to get thrown into Arkham by anyone else while you’re gone,” joked Crane.

Tim grinned and took Marinette’s hand, pulling her inside.

It turns out she actually wasn’t all that good with scary things. Or, at least, jumpscares. She clung to his arm, dull nails doing their best to dig into his skin.

On one hand, he kind of felt bad for telling her to come along. On the other hand he thought it was kind of cute, maybe the next movie they watched together could be a horror.

He would probably be able to enjoy it a little more if he wasn’t tripping out on fear toxin himself. There was a creepy little girl following them around and he wasn’t going to acknowledge her and her creepy little white clothes because talking to hallucinations is always bad.

But then, towards the end, she disappeared.

He didn’t like that either. It set him on edge. It shouldn’t, the fear toxin was just wearing off… but he didn’t feel like it was wearing off. He was still a little shaky and the buzzing under his skin was still present, so maybe she’d been real and something was up.

He got his answer when he heard the sound of little feet dashing overhead.

Marinette squeaked and her grip on his arm tightened, somehow.

When the end was in sight and Tim was waiting anxiously for the final scare, he heard someone running towards them. High pitched laughter echoed around them.

“Oh fuck no,” he yelped when he saw the little girl running towards them, arms outstretched, pretty white dress splattered with red.

Marinette seemed to agree with the sentiment. She nearly pulled his arm out of its socket as she pushed herself into a sprint. He stumbled awkwardly a few steps before catching his footing and returning the tight grip.

And then, like the vigilantes with nerves of steel they were, they ran from the child.

She tried to look calm when the door swung shut behind them. She was pretty good at managing her emotions, she thought (or, at least, good at pushing them down).

But it wasn’t necessary because, when they reached the safety of the outside, they were handed a framed picture of them sprinting away from the creepy little girl, horror written plainly on their faces.

She blushed, more than a little embarrassed.

Thankfully, she was quickly distracted from her embarrassment. Her eyes landed on Bruce, who was dressed as a vampire. She waved for his attention, intending to point out the similarities in their outfits to mess with him, only for his eyes to zero in on the wine bottle in her hand.

Marinette mumbled a curse.

She turned and pressed a ‘kiss’ to Tim’s cheek through her mask. “Gotta go,” she chirped, before promptly disappearing into the crowd.

Alright, time to avoid Bruce. Where is the last place she’d be? Actually, no, he’d probably check the last place...

Her eyes landed on where Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were hanging out by the drinks.

Hm... a negative (people she was wary about) and a positive (drinks!) to balance each other out. A good middle ground.

She walked over and picked up a weird drink with a lot of different candies sticking out of it. She did not know why Scarecrow felt the need to sully the good name of alcohol with American candies but, since it was apparently the only option, she slipped a straw under her mouth to drink.

The drink was taken from her fingers.

She looked at her now-empty hand, brain struggling to catch up, straw hanging limply from her mouth. Then she spat out the straw and cursed.

She slowly turned to look at the person who had stolen it from her, expecting to see a disappointed Bruce, only to meet eyes with Poison Ivy.

(Ivy had dressed up as a stereotypical martian. Marinette wondered, vaguely, if actual aliens were ever offended when people dressed up like the movie versions of them.)

“I’d like that back, thanks,” she said, reaching for the drink.

She held it out of reach -- holy shit she was tall -- and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. “You’re a child.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Exactly: a child,” she said.

Marinette rolled her eyes. Was this how Damian felt? Damn, no wonder he was always so angry about it… but, to be fair, Damian actually was a child. She was nineteen. She had a job and an apartment. Completely different.

But, since convincing Ivy she wasn’t a child wasn’t working, she had to come up with a new approach: “I’ve been drinking since I was six.”

For some reason, this didn’t seem to soothe the woman in front of her.

Thankfully, Harley Quinn -- who was wearing a knockoff Riddler costume -- decided to take pity on her: “Let her drink, Ives, Europeans drink differently than we do.”

Marinette and Poison Ivy exchanged confused looks. Marinette hadn’t gone out drinking with anyone properly in America outside of occasionally dropping into bars to trick old men into giving her drinks and then disappearing. Poison Ivy just, apparently, wasn’t aware of the difference.

“For them it’s a social thing, they don’t really get drunk like we do.”

Ivy hesitated. “You don’t get drunk?”

“I mean… we can get drunk,” she said slowly. She cringed visibly. “I did, once. The day I turned eighteen my mom told me ‘Just this once, to see what it’s like’... the pictures… they deleted them, but I will never live it down...”

She reached for the drink again and, this time, Ivy gave it to her. She was lucky she had her mask to hide the smirk on her face.

When Poison Ivy didn’t leave after that, Marinette knit her eyebrows together. The woman blushed (she blushed green?) and Harley pushed her towards Marinette a step.

“I would like to apologize for how we met…” Ivy said slowly. “Joker was an asshole in Arkham and I’d had a fight with Harley and I guess I just…” She snapped her fingers.

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “It’s fine. It’s not the first world-ending event I’ve had to stop because someone had had a bad day.”

Harley hesitated. “That’s… different.”

She shrugged. “New city, same shit… just sometimes easier, I guess. People are actually scared of Joker?”

“Now, that isn’t very nice!” Said a painfully cheery voice behind her.

She’d summoned him.

Marinette took a long, deep breath, before turning around to greet Joker and Punchline. They were dressed as circus clowns, because of course they would. “Hey! Still alive, I see.”

Joker smiled, like he always did. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Pretty sure you’ve died more than B-man over there,” said Harley.

“No clue why they keep bringing you back.”

Marinette’s eyebrows scrunched together. The man had died? And they had brought him back? Willingly? Weird.

“It’s ‘cause I’m Batsy’s favorite,” cooed Joker.

“Favorite punching bag, maybe,” said Ivy.

Marinette, wisely, decided to back up a step so she wasn’t between the two fighting groups.

“At least people pick him as their first choice,” said Punchline.

“You’d be the expert on what it’s like to be the second choice, I guess, since you’re just me but purple,” said Harley.

“I’m you but self-aware,” Punchline corrected her.

Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Some would say that’s worse.”

Punchline almost punched her.

She didn’t stop because of some amazing show of self-restraint, of course. Nightwing had just chosen that moment to drop down between the two groups. And then Nightwing, with his all-amazing powers of getting pretty much everyone on his side, got them to declare a truce and go to opposite sides of the room.

Marinette was a little disappointed as she took a sip of her drink. It had just started getting good.

But also: Nightwing!

“Is it true that you can do a quadruple somersault?”

Nightwing smiled widely.

Tim was beginning to think that maybe Marinette was so interested in Dick because she was secretly his long lost sister or something. They had the same ability to make even some of the worst people like them.

But, no. Dick having a secret half sister or something? How stupid would that be?

Still, Tim had seen her making friends with: all of his siblings that lived in Gotham, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Dick (damn it, he’d hoped he could keep them apart just a little longer)... the only people she hadn’t gotten to like her were Punchline and Joker, and even then she was choosing to annoy them, who knows what would happen if she actually tried to befriend them… and now she was hanging out with Riddler...

He sat next to them on their bench. “I’m beginning to think you can’t make friends with anyone normal.”

She grinned. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

Riddler (dressed as the gameshow host he would probably be if he hadn’t gone off the deep end) looked over at Tim with barely hidden disdain. “Red Robin,” he greeted coolly.

Marinette frowned. “Why don’t you like him?”

“Him and all the bats… they always answer my riddles before I finish telling them.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix: Red, wait until he finishes telling the riddles before answering.”

He scoffed. “Why would I?”

“For the drama!” Riddler said in a tone that made it obvious he thought it was obvious.

“Half the time you have people’s lives on the line. Lower the stakes and maybe we’ll be more attuned to the dramatic tension.”

Riddler scowled. “You bats just don’t appreciate my art.”

“You’d think that they’d be all for drama.”

“Right? They have a whole brooding cave! But I want high stakes and suddenly I’m too concerned with the vibes of things.”

Marinette grinned and leaned towards Riddler conspiratorially. “They have more than a brooding cave. They have brooding gargoyles, brooding rooftops, brooding cars… I once caught Red over there brooding on his motorbike. Who can brood on a motorcycle? It’s a motorcycle!”

Tim huffed. “I thought we agreed to keep that a secret.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s just too easy to mess with you.”

Tim started to respond, but then he realized something.

‘Darling’?

That could mean one of three things. He needed to excuse himself from the conversation to figure out which was the truth.

He sent the two of them a halfhearted glare. “I will not put up with this bullying any longer.”

“Fine, fine. If you’re going to come back, bring me a cookie.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “If I must.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, a man on a mission.

After questioning all of the family she had talked to (she had yet to meet Jason, apparently), he determined that she didn’t use nicknames all that often. When she did it was usually just to make things quicker for herself. The only people outside of him that she ever used nicknames for were Bruce (‘B’) and maybe Damian (‘kid’).

And he had a nickname like that, too, of course. She called him ‘Red’ from time to time, probably just because she was too lazy to go through the hassle of saying his entire codename.

… but ‘darling’ was different. He had a pet name. In both identities, apparently.

Which meant one of two things:

a) he was special to her in both identities

or b) she knew he was Red Robin.

He was kinda hoping for the first one, but he wasn’t about to let emotions cloud his judgement. He sought out the world’s only accurate lie detector.

He found her surveying the crowd with Jason. They looked like they’d been transported directly from the renaissance, with her plague doctor outfit and his Shakespeare costume.

Tim grinned at them despite his slight anxiety. “Nice of you to bring a Green Arrow costume back from Star City, Flamebird.”

Jason touched the ugly goatee and mustache that both of them shared before sending him a glare. “And you all wonder why I don’t come home more often.”

“Really? I thought it was because you and Roy were --.”

Jason’s face reddened with either anger or embarrassment, Tim didn’t know and didn’t particularly care as his brother left them in a huff.

He couldn’t see Cass’s face but he could feel the disapproval.

“I just… I wanted to ask you something in private…”

Cass didn’t leave, so he assumed it was okay.

“Does Ladybug know our identities?”

Cass was motionless for a moment and he wished she didn’t have such a bulky outfit because it was hard to get a read on her…

And then she nodded, tapping the side of her forehead (the sign for ‘know’) to further emphasize the point.

He looked down at where Marinette was excitedly describing something to an enthused Riddler.

He’d been anxious about her finding out but, now that she had, he found that it was a huge weight off his shoulders. She knew who he was and she accepted it.

He leaned against the railing, a smile threatening to make its way across his face.

She accepted him.

#stalker x stalker #maribat #timari #timmari #shutterbug #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #it isn't important but #duke went as miles morales's spiderman #damian went as batman #also pediatric nurse!dick grayson lives in my head rent free

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