#also stephanie IS best girl i want to put her in my pocket | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-delta-42 · 4 years

Text

Adopted

Ms. Mendeleiev was unwell, which meant the class had a substitute teaching them. They covered genetics, despite the class being physics. The substitute was sat behind the desk, lazily pointing around the board with a laser pointer.

“So, to recap, everyone in this room shares at least one trait with their parents or a family member.” Said the Sub, as Marinette frowned, “If you don’t, then I suggest you look at the local milkmen.”

“Sir,” Said Marinette, raising her hand, “I don’t resemble any of my family members and-”

“Then you’re adopted.” The Sub cut her off, making Marinette sit back, “If that’s everything, then class dismissed.”

Everyone was in a rush to get out of the room, Marinette trailing behind at the back of the group, her mind going over what the Sub said.

Marinette idly pushed her food around her plate, her mind still on what the teacher had said, her parent shared a look.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” Asked her mother, making Marinette stop and look up.

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine.” Lied Marinette, her parents silently calling her bluff, “Ugh, fine, we were learning about genetics in class and the teachers said that we all share at least one trait we have with family members,” Tom and Sabine shared a worried look, “and when I said I didn’t share any with my family members, he said that I was adopted, which is crazy, right?”

Marinette let out a nervus laugh, as both her parent looked uncomfortable, her father rubbed his eyes, while her mother sighed, “Marinette, we really didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“W-what?” Stuttered Marinette, her eyes wide and her body slowly going numb.

“Shortly after your father and I married, we got into an accident,” Said Sabine, grasping one of Marinette’s hands, “the result was that we weren’t able to have children.”

Marinette trembled, her mind swirling with what her parents told her.

“The news destroyed us,” Said Tom, “it nearly ended our marriage.”

“Then, we saw you,” Continued Sabine, “we saw you with one of the nurses at the orphanage and you were screaming your little head off, for some reason the nurse passed you off to us and you just stopped. I’ll always remember that moment, when you stopped crying and just stared up at us.”

Marinette looked at her mother, her adoptive mother, and asked “D-did they say who my birth parents were?”

“They didn’t know who your birth father was, but,” Tom scowled, clearly angry about something, “they knew who your birth mother was, and she wasn’t a good character.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Marinette, looking up at him.

“Marinette, when we adopted you, you didn’t have a name,” Said Sabine, looking in Marinette’s eyes, “your… mother was trying to sell you, saying your father was a rich man from America.”

“Why would she try to sell me?” Questioned Marinette, making both Tom and Sabine stiffen.

“Marinette,” Said Sabine, slowly, “She was trying to sell you for drug money.”

Marinette didn’t sleep that night, deciding to go on patrol, in an attempt to clear her head. It didn’t work. Marinette stood on the school steps, unsure if she should go in, a hand on her shoulder jerked her from her thoughts.

Adrien looked at her worriedly, trying to gage her emotions.

“Marinette,” Asked Adrien, slowly, “are you okay?”

Marinette nodded, Adrien frowned, quickly seeing through the fake smile the girl had given him.

“Are you sure?” Prompted Adrien, making Marinette’s shoulders slump.

“You know what the teacher said yesterday,” Said Marinette, hugging herself, “about me being adopted?”

Adrien nodded, “If you’re worried that you’re adopted, I’m sure your parents prove the teacher wrong.”

“Adrien,” Said Marinette, looking at the ground, “they told me that I am adopted.”

Adrien stared at Marinette, as she shivered, “They told me that my mother, my birth mother, tried to sell me for drug money, and that my father was some high flying American that stayed for a one-night stand and then jetted off for somewhere else.”

“D-do you want a hug?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette tearfully nod.

“Why?” Sobbed Marinette, into Adrien’s shoulder, “Why didn’t they want me?”

A – 12 Years Later

Damien scowled at the people at the party, Grayson had wandered off to talk to some random person, Todd was looking for something to shoot, Drake and Brown were busy introducing themselves to random strangers and his father was speaking to the host.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Said the host, Adrien, to Bruce, “after everything my father did, your contribution and assistance in this really helps all of his victims.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Said Bruce, taking a champagne glass from a waiter, “given how the Justice League didn’t take the information seriously, we thought it’d be best if we helped with the healing of the city.”

Adrien smiled and nodded, just as a little, blonde-haired girl toddled up to him. She tugged on Adrien’s trouser leg twice, making the man scoop her up in his arms.

“Emma!” Said a woman with dark hair, walking towards Adrien and the little girl, Emma, “Emma, I haven’t finished cleaning you up.”

“Mari, what happened?” Asked Adrien, making the woman, Mari, look at him.

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat, this woman, Mari, looked like his late mother, Martha Wayne.

“She spilt her juice down her front,” Said Mari, gently prying the girl from Adrien’s arms, “I managed to get it off her and to get her changed, however, she ran off before I could finish.”

“What needs doing?” Asked Adrien, as Marinette fixed a little flower to Emma’s front.

“That.” Said Mari, looking at Emma and Adrien.

“Papa, Maman told big meanie off.” Said Emma, getting a chuckle from Adrien.

“Well, that’s what happens when someone misbehaves.” Said Adrien, as Emma took a cuddly toy from her mother.

Marinette turned her eyes on Bruce and stuck out her hand, “Marinette Agreste, Founder, and owner, of MDC Designs.”

“Bruce Wayne,” Said Bruce, shaking her hand, “Owner and director of Wayne Enterprises.”

Marinette smiled, “Ah, another orphan.”

Bruce nodded, “True, but I was under the impression that your parents are still alive.”

“My adoptive parents are,” Corrected Marinette, as Adrien placed an arm around her, “I never knew my birth parents and the one time I spoke to my birth mother ended in a screaming match and a restraining order.”

Bruce winced, one of the women he’d met was like that, taking a gamble, Bruce removed his phone from his pocket, and pulled up a picture of the woman who’d turned up a few years ago and turned the screen to face Marinette, “Is that her?”

Marinette froze and nodded.

“Her name’s Bethan,” Said Bruce, putting the phone away, “I met her about 28 years ago.”

Marinette stiffened, before she turned to face Adrien, “I think it’s time for Emma to go to bed, I might do the same.”

Adrien nodded, as he passed a half-awake Emma over to Marinette. The strides Marinette took when she left the men long and fast.

Damien had been listening in on them and discreetly followed the mother and her daughter, he saw her enter the girls’ room and leaving it half-an-hour later, before she headed into another room, either her and her husband’s bedroom or a study.

Damien could hear the mother talking to someone, before a portal opened up beneath him and he fell onto a soft, plush chair, while the mother glared at him.

“I thought it was made clear, that guests are not allowed upstairs.” Said the mother, a pair of reading glasses in her hand and a massive tome in front of her.

“I thought you were hiding something.” Said Damien, scowling.

“Whether I’m hiding something or not is none of your business,” Said the mother, coldly, “what is your business is entertaining yourself downstairs, where you’re supposed to be.”

Damien felt she was like a wolf when her pups were threatened, “Why did you leave when my father told you about his stalker?”

The mother glared at him, before Damien suddenly found himself back at the party, behind his father.

“Father, the host’s wife is using magic.” Said Damien, making Bruce turn and look at him.

A small, red creature was floating in front of his father.

“I know.” Said Bruce, his voice strained, “I also know something that would change this, significantly.”

“What?” Asked Damien, as Bruce ran a hand down his face.

“Damien,” Said Bruce, looking at his son, “She’s your older sister.”

“Recognised: Batman: 02.” Came the computerised voice from the Zeta tube, as Batman stalked onto the Watch Tower.

Hal was on monitor duty, not trusting Lagoon Boy after his screw up with the Miraculous and Paris situation.

“Hey, Bruce.” Greeted Hal, not looking away from the monitors.

“I have a daughter.” Said Bruce, in response.

“Yeah, we all know about Stephanie and Cassandra.” Said Hal, as Batman sighed.

“Lantern,” Said Batman, making the other man turn, “I have a daughter who was living in Paris, that I didn’t even know about.”

Lantern was silent, before he uttered the immortal words of “Holy shit.”

Marinette sifted through paperwork on her desk, Adrien not too far away as he graded his student’s physics homework. The office door opened, as Alya let Emma into the room, the toddler going directly to Marinette and letting herself on her mother’s lap.

“I heard that one of the guests last night wanted an DNA test.” Said Alya, looking at Marinette.

“Yes, the director of Wayne Enterprises wanted several pieces of DNA from me, from hairs to body fluids.” Snarked Marinette, leaning back in her chair.

“Bruce Wayne,” Said Alya, frowning, “but why now?”

“Because he’s never met me before?” Said Marinette, leaning back in her chair.

“I can see the headlines now,” Said Alya, leaning against Marinette’s desk, “’Top Fashion Designer MDC Bruce Wayne’s Long-Lost Daughter.’”

“I hope not.” Laughed Marinette, getting to her feet, “We need to go outside, we’ve been cooped up in here all day and, quite frankly, I could use the fresh air.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Marinette.” Said Tikki, making everyone jump.

“For fucks sake, Tikki,” Gasped Marinette, as Emma looked up at her, “don’t do that!”

“What does ‘fuck’ mean?” Asked Emma, making everyone in the room go still.

“It’s a bad word and Maman is bad for using it.” Said Marinette, kneeling in front of Emma.

“Hmm.” Said Emma, frowning, “Maman, you’re told off.”

Emma skipped away, leaving Marinette crouching next to her desk.

“Did your daughter just say that you were told off?” Asked Alya, as Marinette groaned, “Anyway, where has Tikki been all week?”

“She’s been speaking to the Wayne’s on my behalf.” Said Marinette, making Adrien and Alya stop cold.

“You revealed your identity to them?” Demanded Adrien, rushing to catch up with his wife.

“I figured out that the Wayne’s are Gotham’s Heroes and, frankly, I prefer this to be on even footing where Batman is concerned.” Responded Marinette, scooping Emma up off the ground.

“Bruce Wayne’s Batman?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette smile.

“I had my suspicions, especially since Batman arrived to help us shortly after Bruce Wayne got settled into his hotel.” Said Marinette, looking at the flowers, “Besides, I had Max helping me figure it all out.”

“Didn’t you yell at him last week because your tropical fruit, carrot, popcorn and almond expresso was too hot.” Asked Adrien, making Alya gasp.

“Marinette, have you been having cravings?” Asked Alya, making Marinette freeze.

After a moment, Marinette nodded, getting a squeal from Alya and a gasp from Adrien.

“You’re pregnant?” Asked Adrien, his wife nodding.

A split second later, Adrien had Marinette in his arms and was laughing loudly, “That’s wonderful!”

“Ooh,” Said Alya, leaning back and smirking, “I can just imagine the fights those two will get into for our attention.”

Both Marinette and Adrien glared at Alya, while Emma looked at her parents, “I’m gonna be a big sister?”

Marinette nodded, smiling. Emma scowled and folded her arms, “Now I’m gonna have to share Maman and Papa.”

Marinette and Adrien laughed.

Bruce fidgeted as he waited to hear back from the scientist. Diana frowned, before getting up and walking over to him.

“It’s alright to be nervous,” Said Diana, sitting next to him, “I’ll admit, it was a shock to see Tikki again, but if she’s certain about her holder being your daughter, I see no reason to doubt her.”

“I don’t doubt she’s my daughter, Diana” Said Bruce, leaning forwards, “She figured out my identity shortly after I arrived.”

“She has your brains.” Said Diana, as Bruce’s shoulders slumped.

“When I attempted to broach the topic, she just shut down.” Said Bruce, staring at his hands, “After twenty-eight years of not hearing or seeing me, probably thinking that she was unwanted or wasn’t good enough.”

“She still scared the living shit out of me.” Grumbled Damien, still fuming over the portal in the floor trick.”

Diana looked over at Damien, the boy had come a long way from the weapon the League had made him. He was now a normal, well, as normal as Damien can get, teenager. Damien still had trouble getting over the fact he had a sister a decade older than him.

“Since she’s older than Grayson,” Said Damien, glaring at the ceiling, “Does that mean she’ll inherit the company and everything?”

“No, from what Tikki told us,” Said Diana, getting Damien to look at her, “She opted to dissolve Gabriel Agreste’s assets and connections, she then either sold off the remaining stocks or gave them to charities. I know the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation is one of the charities that has a constant supply of money being donated into it.”

“Probably because she thought she was an orphan.” Said Damien, going back to glaring at the ceiling.

“I’m a grandfather.” Said Bruce, after a moments silence.

Damien stopped glaring at the ceiling and gave his father a quizzical look, “You know, now that you mention it, you do look kinda old.”

Bruce glared, before throwing a pillow at Damien.

Marinette watched Emma playing with her dolls when Bruce and Damien sat down in front of her.

“I can’t stay long.” Said Marinette, looking at them.

“Why, because you hate us and don’t want anything to do with us?” Demanded Damien, making Marinette slowly turn and look at him.

“No, Emma has a doctor’s appointment.” Said Marinette, getting a frown Bruce and Damien.

“Ah.” Said Damien, getting a short glare from Marinette.

“Ah, indeed.” Said Marinette, as Emma toddled up to her.

“Maman, lookee.” Said Emma, holding something out for her mother to take.

Marinette looked at the frog her daughter dropped into her hands, before it hopped off.

“No! Bad Froggie! Come back!” Emma went to chase after it, only to trip and fall flat on her face.

Within moments, Marinette was cradling her wailing daughter, and starting to calm her down. Damien and Bruce watched Marinette, eventually, Emma’s wails died down into sniffles and the odd hiccup. Marinette held Emma, while the toddler took to sucking her thumb and cuddling up against her mother.

“We’ll have to meet up another time,” Sighed Marinette, picking her bag up, as Emma tightened her grip on her mother’s coat, “I think this little one needs to be seen to before anything else.”

Marinette gave a short whistle, and a dog bounded over towards her. Bruce watched his daughter and grandchild walk away. Damien watched something he’d never experienced.

Emma snored quietly, while Marinette watched from the doorway, her thumb going into her mouth as she slept. A plush toy of Chat Noir was held tightly in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Adrien, approaching Marinette with a cup of tea.

“All this time, I thought both my parents were mindless drug addicts who only care about themselves and having the fear that I’d turn out like them,” Said Marinette, taking the cup, “And in the past week, I’ve found that not only is my father alive, but he’s the biggest playboy in the world and able to buy literally anywhere and not have a dent made in his bank.”

Adrien was silent, before wrapping and arm around Marinette’s shoulders, “You know, when I lost my mother and my father started to become closed off to everything, I was terrified of waking up and finding myself like him. Then, you came along, as did Nino, Alya and everyone else. Your parents don’t define you, only you and who you are as a person can do that.”

Marinette hummed and continued to watch Emma.

“Are you going to talk to them tomorrow?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette look at him.

“I was thinking of inviting them to dinner, let them meet Maman and Papa.” Said Marinette, before downing the drink and leading Adrien to their bedroom, “But, frankly, it’s been a stressful day, for both of us, it seems.”

Adrien grinned and swept Marinette into his arms.

Damien felt like an intruder, as he watched Mr. Dupain and Mrs. Cheng playing with Emma, while Marinette, his sister, quietly quizzed Greyson on something to do with the circus. Agreste was ferrying plates of food from the kitchen to the table, a red husky and a black cat following him around. Bruce stared at his granddaughter, it felt odd for him to call the toddler that, he felt Dick sit next to him.

“Well, that was intense.” Said Dick, leaning back in the chair.

“She’s not much older than you.” Said Bruce, making Dick look at him.

“She’s what?” Asked Dick, frowning.

“She’s twenty-eight,” Continued Bruce, his arms folded, “and she’s practically built an empire.”

“That empire,” Said Marinette, looking at the two, “was built on the crumbling remains of Gabriel’s own company, I just took the reins, rebranded it and removed all trace of him as a final middle finger to him.”

Bruce and Dick stared at her, “The room’s built like an echo chamber, really helps when looking for a certain rascal.”

Emma squealed as Sabine tickled her. A loud thud emanated from the upstairs, making Marinette frown.

“I’ll be right back.” Said Marinette, disappearing up the stairs.

There was a silence.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!” Yelled Marinette, making everyone jump. Marinette returned with a Vietnamese man and a young woman with pick hair, “These morons though it’d be a good idea to climb up the side of the house and in through the window.”

“The door was locked.” Said the man, making the woman hit him.

“Kim didn’t want to use the bell.” Said the woman, folding her arms.

“The last time I was here, there was a power cut that almost killed Adrien’s mum!” Said the man, Kim, raising his arms above his head.

Marinette gave a sharp whistle, making them flinch, “Kim, ringing the doorbell isn’t going to cause a power cut, Alix, you knew this and still decided to climb up the side of the house.”

The woman, Alix, winced, before adopting a hurt look.

“Don’t even try the wounded rabbit act with me.” Said Marinette, pointing at Alix, “I trust Kim to be the idiotic one out of the two of you, I really don’t need you deciding the prove me wrong.”

Both mumbled out a sorry and looking at the floor.

Emma stomped, more toddled, up to the two adults, “You’re very told off!”

There was a snort, before Mr. Dupain fell over, laughing.

Marinette looked at her daughter, chubby cheeks and pigtails, trying to look intimidating. Scooping the toddler into her arms and gently bouncing her, “I think someone needs a nap.”

“Nuh-uh,” Yawned Emma, rubbing her eyes, “Not sleepy.”

Marinette just shushed her and took Emma back up to her room. Kim and Alix awkwardly shuffled their feet, before Adrien cleared his throat and jerked his head into the kitchen.

“This is a big house.” Said Dick, looking around the dining room, “Not as big as Wayne Manor, but still big.”

“It’s not as big as Gabriel Agreste’s house,” Said Sabine, looking at him, “but, Adrien gave the house to the Heroes of Paris as a base of operations.”

“Considering what he did to it, I’m not surprised.” Said Tom, standing up, “He made a secret bunker underneath it and in the attic.”

“Clearly, something only someone with some serious issues would do.” Said Sabine, frowning, while Bruce and Dick shared a worried look.

“Foods ready.” Said Adrien, as he, Alix and Kim ferried the food in from the kitchen.

Marinette had gone to bed directly after dinner, saying she had a headache, Damien quietly followed her, believing she was still hiding something. Damien was disappointed when she got changed and actually went to bed.

“What’cha doin’?” Asked a toddler’s voice, making Damien jump.

Behind him, stood the toddler that his sister, it felt weird calling Agreste that, had been carrying around in the majority of instances he’d seen her.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Said Emma, a blanket and toy trailing behind her.

“That’s none of your business.” Snapped Damien, making Emma take a deep breath.

Panicking, Damien grabbed the toddler and held her mouth shut, “Your family is hiding something, and I’m going to find out what.”

Emma suddenly looked scared, making Damien smirk, “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“Put. Her. Down. Now.” Came Marinette’s voice, cold and sharp.

Damien froze, before slowly turning and facing Marinette. The dog from before had her teeth bared and a snarling at Damien. Damien dropped Emma onto the floor, with Marinette quickly scooping her up and glaring at Damien, non-verbally instructed him to follow her.

She found Adrien, Kim, Alix and her parents speaking with Bruce and his crowd.

“You need to leave. Now.” Said Marinette, as she entered the room.

Bruce opened his mouth to asked why, before he spotted red marks on Emma’s face and Damien trailing behind Marinette.

“What did he do?” Asked Bruce, already feeling that any progress that had been made was lost.

“I just caught him manhandling my daughter.” Snapped Marinette, as Damien just scowled, “If the rest of you are like him, then I don’t want any of you around.”

“Mrs. Agreste,” Said Dick, standing up, “I can assure you, none of us are like Damien, we actually thought he’d been making progress.”

Damien just stood by the door, scowling at the ground.

“Well, Jason can be a bit rough around the edges, but that’s because he almost died.” Said Dick, making Marinette’s eyes fall on Jason.

“I’ll take that as an explanation as to why he has a hunting knife stuffed in his boot.” Said Marinette, making Jason take his foot off the table.

“It seems that I need to speak with Damien,” Said Bruce, standing up, “perhaps I can find out what he was thinking.”

Marinette frowned, before nodding, “In all honesty, he’s the only one I keep having a problem with.”

Bruce gave a strained smile, before walking past her and grabbing Damien’s arm and pulling him into another room.

“I’m going to grab a dressing gown,” Said Marinette, handing Emma over to Adrien, “and some pain killers.”

In the other room, Bruce pulled out a chair and sat Damien down, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“She’s hiding something!” Protested Damien, making Bruce groan, “Don’t tell me I’m being paranoid, she’s clearly moved things from their designated places before we arrived!”

“Of course, she’s hiding things, Damien,” Said Bruce, looking at his son, “do you remember what Diana called her?”

“The Guardian on the Miraculous.” Said Damien, before a look of realisation appeared on his face, “Oh. Shit.”

“If that’s why you’re creeping about the place, you should’ve just asked.” Said Marinette, making both Bruce and Damien jump.

“How do you do that?” Demanded Damien, “First your daughter does it and now you!”

Marinette froze, before waving her hand, making a window open into the other room.

“What do you mean, Emma’s done it?” Asked Marinette, zeroing in on Damien.

“Just before you told me to drop her, she appeared out of nowhere.” Said Damien, Marinette’s frown deepening.

“Emma isn’t tall enough to open her bedroom door, and I made sure to have all the Kwami accounted for tonight.” Said Marinette, just as Emma appeared in the room, giggling.

“Oh, fuck.” Swore Marinette, making Emma frown and toddle over.

“Naughty word.” Said Emma, pointing at a jar on the side.

Marinette sighed, before pulling a couple of euros out of her pocket and depositing them in the jar. Emma nodded, satisfied, before toddling over to Damien, “Naughty.” Emma pointed to the jar again, getting a snort from Bruce.

Damien looked at his father and sister, before sighing and pulling a roll of euro bills from his pocket and dropped it into the jar.

Emma beamed up at him, before running over to her mother. Marinette sighed, before picking her up and walking back to the rest of the group.

Clark looked at the newspaper, nearly spitting his coffee over the front of it.

MDC IS A WAYNE!

Clark groaned and hoped Bruce hadn’t adopted a grown woman. Connor looked up from his book.

“Is everything okay, Kal?” Asked Connor, frowning as M’Gann, Garfield and Bart read the headline.

“Bruce has adopted a grown woman.” Said Clark, starting to stand up.

“Actually,” Said Bart, looking up at him, “Marinette is Batman’s biological daughter.”

People from several blocks away heard the loud what coming from Clark’s apartment.

“Smallville, if one of your super friends has another kid, you don’t need to act surprised by it.” Said a groggy Lois, rubbing her eyes.

Ra’s Al Ghul glared at the headline; he knew of the girl. He also knew of the Great Guardians; the League had capitalised on the power vacuum that had been left in their absence. He let out a sharp sigh through his nose and started reading.

Marinette looked around the Watchtower, frowning at the sight of the Justice League.

“I’m not even going to start on how impractical some of your costumes are.” Said Marinette, before looking at the trees, “How’d you get the birds up here?”

“You know, we still have no clue.” Said Flash, as a bird landed on Marinette’s head.

80 notes · View notes

kerie-prince · 4 years

Text

We're Worlds Apart (8)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: mentions of smoking, mentions of death

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: god, i had MAJOR writers block for this chapter. i almost got lost in the direction i wanted this series to go and i'm still figuring out a way on how to not let this drag out too long. i'm debating on adding this to wattpad but i don't know how to make aesthetically pleasing cover art so if anyone could teach a bitch how, lmk ✋🏼😩

(gif cred)

Blaise has been acting differently than usual. Not that you had too many complaints considering that you hardly knew him. Better words would be that from the short time you knew him, he started acting different. What was once two nights a week turned into him staying with you almost everyday.

It was kind of annoying, actually. He was here to see Draco, not some random person he just met.

One morning, he got up early and tried to make breakfast, but he had no idea how to work any of the muggle items so rather than your alarm on your bed stand you woke up to the smoke alarm.

You woke up feeling groggy but had a pleasant soreness on your inner thighs. Before you even brushed your hair or teeth, you rushed as much as you could to see what was going on in your house. When you stepped into your kitchen, your toaster was on fire and there was smoke everywhere. Blaise was just standing by it scratching his head. It woke you right up; you ran to your small laundry room and snatched the fire hydrant.

After you put the fire out, you turned to Blaise, “What the hell happened?”

“I guess now would be a bad time to ask you to make breakfast?” He didn't really show that he was sorry. Maybe on the inside he was, but would it kill him to show it? You rubbed the temple of your nose bridge to smooth out the growing headache. Now you have to buy a new toaster and make food for this man.

The bell rang through your house in the early morning. You set the fire hydrant on the counter and walked to the front door to see who it was that was outside. Probably, no, hopefully Theo coming to pick his best friend up to take him out to go anywhere else that wasn't your house.

Fate was decidedly not on your side today. The person that stood on your porch was none other than your mother. “Ma? What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be rude, baby,” she let herself in just like she used to walk into your room when you were younger living in her house. She looked around and had a scrunched up look. “Y/N, what is burning?”

Just when the situation couldn't get any worse, Blaise walked out to the living room also assuming Theo was here to see him. It donned on you now that Blaise was shirtless and his pajama silk bottoms were sitting dangerously low on his hips. You were glad that he was wearing underwear or else your mother would see more than she needed to.

Blaise stood shockingly still and wasn't sure what to do, so he just did the first thing that came to mind. “Hello, I'm Blaise. Nice to meet you,” he held his hand out for your mother to shake.

She stood with a look of horror on her face and kept her hands to her side. As if it was natural, she gave you a disapproving look before looking back at the man in your house. Blaise retracted his hand and looked at you, “I'll just be at Draco’s then.”

You nodded and stayed with your mother as he put on his shirt in your room and left. “Y/N… what are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Isn't it a long ride from Boston?” you sassed.

“Don't give me that. I wanted to come see you and… and I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” You could tell that it was really hard for her to say the last bit. “I shouldn't have acted the way I acted on Thanksgiving.”

“What happened, ma?” you asked with your arms crossed, “I know it's not because of Stephanie also practicing Wicca. And if it is, then I really don't understand.”

“I just… why are you still doing this? All of this? I get that you wanted to be closer to your grandmother so I let you do whatever you wanted–”

“You let me? You make it sound like this is some hobby!” you yelled.

“IT IS A HOBBY,” she animated with her arms, “Y/N, you are 26 years old. When are you going to move on?”

“This is ridiculous, I need you to leave,” you began to escort your mother out of your house. “No, I’m staying. This was my house–”

“No, it was Grandma’s house and now it’s mine. Goodbye, mother,” you closed the door in her face and turned against it to lean on your back. Your face was in your hands and you wanted to scream.

You checked the time on your oven and saw you still had 45 extra minutes to do whatever you wanted before you had to get ready to open the store. Since Blaise has been over everyday and you haven't opened up to him about your practice, you wanted to spend extra time to soothe all the negative and stressful energy that was building up inside you.

The closet hadn't been opened in a few days and once you were facing all your herbs, crystals, and oils, you immediately felt better.

“It's been a while, girls,” you spoke to yourself. You grabbed some oils, a sage and crystals to get ready. And you had lots of work to do.

—

“Alright, you are good to go,” Draco released a child with their parents. Work has since died down since the huge fiasco earlier in the month. There was still the question as to who and why it all happened, but he decidedly let it go for now.

Recently, he's been getting closer with you with small chats every now and then since the day in Manhattan. Draco deemed you as now ‘okay’ in his book. Your chats were simple but not bad.

One thing that for sure was odd was Blaise suddenly staying there every night. He never got an explanation, nor has he ever asked him. Blaise was acting kind of strange, but Draco liked to think it was due to being homesick.

Thirteen hours had passed and Draco’s day would finally come to an end. Ian and Ashley asked him if he'd like to join them on a drink, but he declined. Theo called him and let him know that Blaise was home, so he was going to drink with the two of them. He had yet to introduce his work friends with his best friends and was planning to before they went back to London.

As he pulled up home, he saw you sitting alone on your porch. You had a stoic look on your face and had a cigarette in between your fingers. Draco didn't think you smoked at all. He has never seen you do it once in the months living next to you.

He figured he’d just be a good neighbor and say hello. He walked over and knocked on the wooden porch to gain your attention. You were pulled out of whatever thought you were in the middle of and looked at him. “Oh, hi,” you greeted without your usual enthusiasm.

Draco went through his coat pockets for his own pack and pulled one out. He then realized that he didn't have one of those muggle lighters and tried to figure out how to light his smoke without magic like he usually did.

To you, it seemed that he just forgot a lighter so you pulled out yours and gestured for Draco to come closer. He leaned in and accepted it, “I didn't know you smoked.”

You chuckled to yourself, “Yeah, I uh, quit a year ago.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “You don't look like you quit.” He took a couple puffs of his cigarette and looked out on the street. You took a particularly long puff and slowly let the smoke out of your lips, “Well, when you have a mom like mine, you start up old habits again.”

“You’ve never met my father,” Draco commented under his breath, “She seemed nice when I met her.”

“She's nice to everyone but her own daughter,” you rolled your eyes. You let your cigarette out and almost started another one, but something stopped you. You leaned back into your chair and closed your eyes.

“Have you two always fought?” Draco asked. You kept at your position but opened your eyes. You gave it some thought before eventually nodding ‘yes’. “What about your father?”

The question seemed to have affected you; your eyes started getting glossy and your bottom lip quivered. Draco noticed. Should I not have asked that?

“He passed away when I was 12,” you sounded like your breath was cut short. Your hands reached up to cover your eyes and wipe away any tears before they could fall down.

As much as Draco and Lucius never saw eye to eye, he couldn't really imagine losing his father. Sure, Lucius was harsh on his son and always compared him to Potter, but Draco still cared about him. And he knew that Lucius loved him in his own way. Maybe you weren't all that different.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Draco consoled. You stood up to go inside. The weather was cold and your cashmere sweater wasn't doing you any good. “Thank you.” Draco let his cigarette out and told you ‘Good night’ before leaving.

Stepping down, he looked back and called for you, “Y/N.” You hadn't closed the door yet, so you looked back with your door held by your hand, waiting for whatever Draco had to say. “If you ever need to talk… I'm right next door.”

It surprised you to say the least. But it unexpectedly made you warm on the inside. “Thank you, Dray.” He nodded and waved before going home.

Inside, Theo sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen eating leftovers from the night before and Blaise was going through the Daily Prophet. “How was work?” the latter friend asked.

“Alright. Good to see you here for once,” Draco greeted. Blaise laughed without taking his eyes off the paper, “Can't a man be with his girlfriend before he leaves?”

“Ha, is that what you two are?” Theo teased from across the room with his mouth stuffed, “Look at Blaise; he finally settled down. Hell has officially frozen over.”

Blaise listed one hand to flip off Theo. Draco, however, felt a churn in his stomach. It was weird to hear Blaise call you his girlfriend. No one has gotten Blaise to call them that, but somehow you did it.

He wasn't really sure Blaise even knew what it meant to have a girlfriend, or even how to be a boyfriend. He never asked what they did knowing that he'd get endless teasing.

Draco grumbled to himself and went to his room. He changed into comfortable clothes and right when he was about to join Theo in the kitchen, he looked at his window for a moment. He peeked through his window and saw you through yours.

You sat on your bed with your legs up to your chest and your arms wrapped them close. Your face had no expression on it, but considering the conversation less than an hour ago, one could assume that you were sad.

“You fancy her, don't you?” Blaise surprised Draco, making the blond jump. “Merlin, Blaise, don't do that.”

“Well?” Blaise stood against the open door with arms and legs crossed. Draco rolled his eyes and walked towards the door, but Blaise didn't budge from his position. “I don't fancy anybody, now move.”

“I don't care if you do. But I do care when you lie to me. And yourself,” Blaise’s tone was threatening.

“Shouldn't you fancy her? She's your girlfriend,” Draco matched his tone. “Besides, if she was, shouldn't you be pissed if I did?”

“I do fancy her, but I'm not the one living next to her. Eventually, I'm leaving,” Blaise reminded his best friend. “So do us the favor and figure out whatever it is you want, or I'll find a reason to stay.” With that, Blaise left to his shared room and slammed the door.

What in Salazar is his deal? Draco thought. He walked up to his fridge and rummaged through all the containers of leftover food. I really need to learn how to cook.

Theo was still eating when he started talking, “Blaise has been pissy all day. What you reckon is his deal?”

“‘M gonna guess there's trouble in paradise and she's sick of him,” Draco jokes. His eyes land on the Chinese food from a couple nights ago and warms it up with his wand.

“Hm, as if,” Theo commented. He cleaned his mess up when he finished and turned to Draco. “Night, mate. Fingers crossed he doesn't yell at me and I have to sleep on the couch.”

“Night,” Draco replied and sat down on one of the high chairs. He thought a lot about you telling him about your father. He sat and wondered if you told Blaise. Maybe you even opened up to him about your… craft? Draco didn't know what to call it yet.

But he figured that if you did, Draco would be the first person Blaise would tell. And seeing as even Theo, the biggest mouth between the three, hasn't said anything, then that meant that you probably hadn't told Blaise.

And for a quick second, passing just as quickly as it came, he wondered if you would tell him first.

—

It was currently December 18th. Your dad's birthday. Usually you'd ride with your mother to his stone in Boston, but seeing as your latest argument was bothering you, staring at photos of him was going to be enough today.

You hardly remembered much about him since you were young, but you remember the good moments and some of the bad. The bad being the last of his days. His cancer was strong as it was caught too late by doctors.

The store was closed today per usual. You never had it opened on his birthday. Blaise was also at Draco's house. You'd ask him to have the day to yourself and when he asked why, you didn't explain.

Your door bell rang and you groaned, hoping it wasn't your mother again.

"Hey," your brother greeted you. "Y/B/N, hey. Come in, you're probably freezing." Inside, he took his jacket off and hung it on your coat rack. He sat on the couch and your cat ran to sit on his lap. "Sometimes, I think she likes you more than me," you chuckled as your brother gave her head strokes and she purred loudly.

"How come you're by yourself? We missed you today," your brother asked. You sat beside him and closed the photo book. "I didn't feel like fighting with mom again today."

"Y/N/N, I know she's hard to handle, but she needed you today," he reached out for your hand and squeezed it. "I needed you, too."

"Well, she has a funny way of showing it," you stared into nothing. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your throw blanket over your shoulders. "Sometimes, I almost forget what he's like. His laugh, how he made Ma smile. How he smelled," you started.

Your brother was 8 when your dad died, so his memory was limited. But he still remembers how much he loved him. You both sat in silence, hands locked and the only sound being your cats purring.

"Mom told me you have a boyfriend. That true?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe? He hasn't said anything, and he leaves after New Years, so maybe not," you half-explained. What was Blaise to you? Did he feel anything when you were together? Was it just physical? You didn't know, and you never asked.

"Well, if he breaks your heart, I don't care where he lives. I'm beating his ass," your brother commented. You hit his shoulder and he laughed. "How's Steph? I haven't been able to call her," you asked.

"Oh. Um, we're taking a break." Your brother sounded sad. You sat up and looked at your baby brother. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I think Mom just spooked her. But I'll get her back," he sounded only partly sure of himself. You nodded and rested back on his shoulder. He stayed for a few hours; watched a movie and had dinner before he left back for Boston to see your mom once more.

When he left, you sat in your room and lit up some incense to calm your nerves. Out your window, Draco's curtains were closed as usual. Something inside you wanted to talk to someone that wasn't your brother, Blaise, or even Miranda and Bianca.

It wasn't that Draco wasn't the best of friends, but you had an indescribable pull towards him, and you wondered if it was the same for him.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers @hahee154hq @disartrous @oh-those-barricade-boys @lunalovecroft @bornforfangirling @c4th3r1ne @burnin-passion

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy series #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x muggle!reader #draco x female reader #draco x reader

72 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 4 years

Text

The vines that bind us - Chapter 9

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

------

She opened the window and picked a pencil. With deadly precision she tossed it. The wooden tool sailed through the air until it hit the binoculars and broke one side of them. She huffed and closed the window before pulling the curtains closed. How rude.

Jason cursed under his breath. Any other day he would probably avoid the projectile, but it caught him completely by surprise. By all accounts, it was physically impossible to use a pencil with such precision and force to destroy military-grade night-vision binoculars. At least the memory card was safe so he could give it to replacement later on for analysis.

Still in bad mood after having his gear ruined, Jason zipped to Dupain-Cheng’s window and gave a light knock. No response. Another knock. Still no response. Finally, after the third knock, the blinders opened and the window itself followed, revealing a very angry girl. Jason finally had a chance to get a better look at her. She did, in fact, have blue hair and now that he’d seen it close, he would bet half his paycheque that it was somehow a natural color. The purple too. She must have had her hair dyed for the first day of work. Her eyes were another part that he memorized. They were blue and iridescent green at the same time, giving a slight unnatural aura. Or maybe it was just that she looked ready to murder him.

“Are you done staring?” She asked, clearly annoyed. “You are not my type and much too old. And the stalker routine is plain creepy. Get lost old guy.”

She was about to close the window when he started speaking.

“I actually came to apologize. I did not ‘stalk’ you, thank you very much. I was just checking on you, miss. You do realize that you single-handedly kicked Riddler’s ass and got quite a bit of publicity.”

“Suuure. You do that for every brave citizen?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and a small grin. “You would be really short-staffed. I hope that overgrown furry does pay you for the overtime.” Any traces of amusement disappeared from her face. “Now get lost before I sic Chloe on you. She recently started dating Damian Wayne and the two seem to bond over ruining people. I’m sure you would make a decent target.” Without further ado, Mari closed the window and put the blinders back in place, completely cutting him off.

Jason didn’t protest. He was too busy processing the fact that Demon Spawn apparently started dating someone. Oh, he would have so much fun teasing the little menace.

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

When the motorbike entered the Batcave, Jason expected to meet perhaps the Replacement or Demon Spawn. He definitely did not expect to see the entire family sans B and Alfred.

“Do you want to perhaps explain why dad received an angry call about ‘some idiot in red bucket’ stalking her through the window?” Barbara asked. frowning deeply.

“Or at least why were you stalking her?” Dick added.

“Or where you hid my coffee?” Tim joined.

“Timothy!” Several of them shouted.

“What? It’s important!”

“Back to the matter at hand.” Dick turned back to Jason. “What exactly were you thinking?!” He screamed.

“Geez. You thought about joining some opera?”

“Tt. Answer the question.” Damian interrupted.

“That reminds me. Did you know Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend?” Jason asked, trying to deflect. He really did not like how they jumped at him.

“Not… important.” Cass stared daggers at him. “Talk.”

“Fine!” he threw hands in the air. “I followed a hunch. And I was right. She is a meta!” He procured his destroyed binoculars. “There is no human way to destroy military-grade equipment like that with just a pencil.”

Tim picked it up and quickly tossed it onto the table nearby. A blue light scanned the products and the bat-computer started to display the scan plus introductory analysis.

“Well, he is right. There is no way that a simple pencil could destroy it.” He pressed some buttons and recording from the last seconds of the item’s life played. They could clearly see her throw a pencil at it and then everything went black. “Or I was wrong.” Tim started to do a series of calculations.

“Bucket-head might be onto something. With her muscle mass, it would be impossible to throw a pen with enough force. Actually, it’s almost impossible to make that throw. Not with human muscle density…”

Barbara rolled over to him and the two started to work side by side. “But that’s also not probable since the body is not…”

“She would probably…”

“Plant fibers have a similar structure, but she would…”

“Maybe… Unless she is not strong and instead…”

“Um… earth to nerd corner. Can you explain?”

“Jason might have hit the bullseye.” Tim grinned and several groans could’ve been heard. “She is definitely a meta. It still doesn’t explain why you stalked her.”

“Is that not reason enough?” Red Hood asked. He immediately regretted it when Duke stared daggers at him.

“You do realize, that metahumans are not as rare as it was believed at the beginning?” Tim asked.

“What?”

“Roughly ten percent of humans are born with dormant meta-gene and the number is increasing each year. And about one in twenty people have an active meta-gene. They just don’t go around wrecking everything or don a cape and run around beating people.” Tim spoke in a matter-of-factly tone.

“What?”

“Yeah. Eidetic memory, or perfect recall for our uneducated bucket-head,” Tim snickered while Jason grumbled.

“I hate that name.”

“I think it will stay for a while.” Stephanie was smiling. “She does have a way with nicknames. First an overgrown furry, then red Buckethead…” She was on the verge of laughing. “I wonder what she does next?”

“As I was saying,” Tim regained the control of the conversation, “eidetic memory is actually one of the earliest forms of registered active meta-ability.”

“What?”

“The gene tends to activate under extreme duress, but, as we learned, the definition of extreme duress varies from person to person.”

“So what? A guy afraid of failing an exam might accidentally unlock super memory?” Jason dismissed it.

“More like if someone lived in years under pressure and is about to crack.” Dick pointed. “I mean there was even this large awareness campaign about four years ago led by Beast Boy. Where were you?”

“Dead.” Jason deadpanned. “I was dead.”

“Oh… I guess you didn’t see Garfield’s movies then?” Steph asked, being the first to break through the heavy atmosphere.

“She is still a meta.” Jason tried to fight, but his arguments were wavering.

“Which changes nothing. You will go to her tomorrow and apologize.” Tim said categorically.

“Ugh! Fine. But I got one more interesting fact: Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend.” He grinned and turned to Damian. Everyone followed his gaze.

“Tt. I have no idea what you are talking about Todd.”

“That blonde! Charlie saw you two sitting and eating pastries together! She is the new intern!” Dick had a big fat smile on his face and his eyes were almost glittering. “Who is she? How did you two meet?”

“Blonde?” Tim suddenly paled considerably. “There is only one blonde intern. Please tell me you aren’t dating Chloe Bourgeoise of all people!” He squeaked.

Damian wanted to deny it further, but seeing the Replacement’s reaction he changed his mind. The grin that formed on his face was borderline malicious before turning back to the emotionless mask he wore every day. “Yes. She finally admitted that I was not at fault for the cake incident. She is actually tolerable now.”

“What cake incident?” Steph asked, smelling some juicy story about her ex. That kind of story was the best.

“Tt. When we were at this gala in Paris two years ago, Replacement attacked me and we fell into the birthday cake.”

“It doesn’t sound…” Dick started, but Damian interrupted him.

“The cake had six levels and was about as tall as I am now. Mayor Bourgeoise was not happy that we ruined his precious princess’s birthday.”

“So that’s why we no longer go to Paris?”

“Tt. No. That’s because Jason almost trashed the Louvre.”

“Right…” Tim mumbled while his eyes closed. In just a moment, he was snoring away on the chair.

“Damn. I thought it would work faster.” Barbara complained while peeling the near-invisible sticker away from his neck.

-----

Thursday actually passed without any trouble for Marinette. The class finally got it through their collective single brain cell that she had the power to end their trip with two words. She was slowly getting the grip on the work and after some talk with Penny, where the woman practically forced Mari to listen to some additional advice. She was actually offended that the girl didn’t call her immediately.

She did have to practically drag her barely conscious boss to a meeting in the afternoon, but he didn’t put up much of a fight after she gave him a Tikki Special Coffee. The small goddess giggled inside her pocket the entire time as the boy begged on his knees.

After work, she and Chloe went to the Gotham Zoological Garden. At first, she wanted to go to the Botanic Garden first, but their class was supposed to visit there after work, so the girls went to Zoo instead. Gotham had a much broader collection of birds than Paris did. And the less chance of running into their classmates, the better.

“...He did what?” Chloe asked louder than necessary, but nobody paid the two girls in smart outfits any attention.

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I gave him a piece of my mind.” Mari dismissed it.

“It’s still creepy.”

“I know. That’s why I sicced the police at him.”

“That’s my girl!”

“Well, I threatened to send you and Damian after him, but I decided it would be too cruel.” She smiled. “Besides, I’ve seen that Red Buckethead is trending already.” She pulled out her phone and showed a post there was a picture of Red Hood next to a reversed red bucket.

FashionMari @QueenGoldie Someone in a red bucket was stalking me. I was torn between calling the police and criticizing their fashion choice. In the end, I did both.

“Only you Goldie. Only you…”

--------

Friday was press conference day. For once, Mari woke up earlier and got dressed in record time. Chloe watched from the side-lines as the girl moved around like a tornado, preparing everything and triple-checking all arrangements. She changed outfits four times before finally the blonde grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to sit down.

“Goldie! You know I love you and I would kill for you,” She started, “but if you don’t calm down I will tie you up and leave you here for the day.”

“But…!” Bluenette tried to protest, but Chloe cut her off.

“No buts. We are only sixteen. I for one came here to learn a bit and maybe meet someone. You are supposed to be learning. Nobody said anything about getting a full-time job.”

“The deal…”

“So what if they fire you?” Chloe raised her hands over her head. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! You have Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeoise fighting over who will get you while Jagged Stone is willing to fly over half the world just to give your references in person. You run a very successful flower shop and even more successful boutique.”

“But…” She tried to muster a weak protest, but Chloe’s angry gaze made her wither.

“I will not let you run yourself dry!” The blonde stated firmly. “So either you take a step back and breathe or I will call your uncle.”

“Not uncle Jagged! he already banned me from drinking coffee!”

“So you will behave?” Chloe asked with a smirk.

“Fiiiinneee!” Mari couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Queenie. I needed this. I’m glad I have you as my friend. And sister.”

“Well of course you needed me! Everyone needs me!” She huffed before her expression became more gentle and she pulled Mari into a hug.

Downstairs the class was waiting for them. Probably they finally gathered the courage to confront her about Alya’s fate. The girl shouldn’t have lied while filing for promotion. Mari and Chloe stormed past them not even sparing them a glance. Outside, Adrien was already waiting inside the limousine with Gerard at the driver’s seat.

“I’m glad your driver is finally here.”

“Me too!” The blond boy was practically beaming. “I’m free from Lila’s clutches.”

“Could you drop us at… No. 2 Twine Street?” Mari asked the gorilla, who only grunted in response.

“Um… We should be going to Wayne Tower.”

“Nope.” Mari popped the ‘p’. “You,” she pointed at Adrien, “are an intern in PR. I asked for you to be present at the press conference to help move stuff around and so on.”

“And me?” Chloe asked. “If you expect me to…”

“You’re there to support your boyfriend. He was the one that practically demanded that I get you there. He hates publicity.”

“Oh… Good then. Let’s go.”

“Boyfriend?” Adrien asked curiously. “You mean Wayne?”

“Yeah. Apparently Chloe found herself a partner in scheming.”

“I bet that their dates are filled with planning to take over the world.”

“We could’ve taken the world over by lunch if we wanted.” Chloe looked almost offended. “The question is what way would be the most suitable one.”

All three of them broke into laughter as the car rode through the city of crime.

----

About fifteen minutes before the press conference was scheduled to start, Tim Drake was still not there. None of the Waynes were there in fact. She sent about fifteen angry messages to Mr. Drake and he was still not here, which only fueled her stress and anger.

The press had no idea so far and they were eagerly awaiting whatever news the company wanted to present. She bit her lower lips. Chloe was on the phone, trying to reach her boyfriend.

“If that idiot doesn’t get here in the next ten minutes, I’m going to consider stabbing him.”

“Damian?!” Chloe shouted into her phone.

“Tt. What do you want?”

“First of all, that’s not how you talk to your girlfriend. Second of all, where in the world is your excuse of a brother?! Mari is an inch from going ballistic!”

“Tt. He’s asleep.” Damian answered in an impassionate tone.

Mari leaped over and wrestled the phone from Chloe. “You go to him right this moment or I swear to all that’s holy and…”

“I get it.” He interrupted her, showing signs of irritation. There were some static and the camera blurred for a moment from the fast motion. When it returned, she saw barely awake Tim Drake wearing blue onesies.

“wah…”

“Get yourself cleaned up and into a suit in the next three minutes!” She shouted. God bless the soundproof backstage.

“Um… But I will never make…”

“I’m certain you have a great webcam somewhere in this big mansion of yours. Set it in the library and call me in the next few minutes. I so hope you were not supposed to be the model because gods help me…” She took a look at his terrified face. “Of course you were…”

“In my defense…”

“Shut up. Get going!” She hanged up and turned to Adrien and Chloe, who were looking at her with a mixture of fear and awe. “What are you waiting for?!” She tossed a package to the boy. “You get dressed in the new product.” She pushed him outside and into the janitor’s closet on the other side. “And you’re coming with me!” She dragged Chloe toward the main room. The blonde was sent to the technics room to get the feed started while Mari stepped on the scene. The chatter died quickly and all reporters turned to her.

“Hi. Please forgive us for the slight delay. We have minor technical difficulties that are being solved as we speak. In the meantime, you are free to take the seats. The conference is about to start.”

Behind her, a screen slowly descended. She saw Adrien leaning from the doors leading backstage and smiling at her.

“Without further ado, I present you Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

The image of the teen with black hair appeared on the screen and he waved everyone. He was holding a red cup of coffee with black polka dots, the same Tikki summoned for him the first time.

Satisfied with herself, Marinette allowed herself a moment of rest. The conference was going well and after a minute of silence for the dead in the recent attack, the presentation began. Adrien was a natural model so it all went great. Wayne Tech in co-operation with Gabriel brand was introducing a new line of ‘smart’ fabric that could withstand medium stress and was almost impossible to dirty or stain. She had to admit it was quite amazing. Apparently, it was partially how Mr. Agreste got her class internship. Granted, Adrien was not supposed to be the model but you don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth.

Everything was going great until the doors to the room were kicked open and several goons barged in, followed by none other than Two-face. Everyone immediately fell onto the floor. Mari couldn’t help but sigh exasperatedly. Why did it have to go wrong at every turn?

Ignoring the terrified stares, she stormed toward the intruders. “Excuse me, sir?” She asked with an emotionless face.

“What?” The man looked clearly irritated.

“I don’t see your name on the guest list. Did you remember to call in advance?”

“Of course not! Do I look like…” The criminal was clearly angry.

“Then I apologize, but I must ask you to leave now.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Two-face pulled his gun.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you are not on on the list, I can’t let you stay.” She said in an emotionless voice. Mari was honestly too tired to care at this point. Maybe at least the evening would be better.

“I’m not sure you get the situation, miss. I’m not here for the interviews. Everyone pull out your wallets and drop them in the sacks!” He shouted while his men started to walk around.

“Hm… That won’t do.” She said. After muttering something under her breath, Mari tossed her clipboard. The spinning board hit one of the mooks in the head, knocking him cold, before bouncing and hitting the next one. After that, it returned to her hand.

That was enough for Two-Face. He aimed his gun at her, but she moved faster than he anticipated. Within seconds, she grabbed his wrist and pushed it up so he was aiming at the ceiling. She squeezed it hard enough to make him drop the gun right into her other waiting hand. The girl let go of his wrist and disassembled the gun into pieces in what could become record time.

Now irritated, Mari grabbed Two-face by his tie and pulled him down until they were at the same eye-level.

“I was trying to do it peacefully sir. I am now ordering you to leave. Otherwise, I will actually have to hurt you.” She leaned closer until she was able to whisper. “And don’t make mistakes, Dent. I can and will hurt you.” For a moment her eyes lost the blue coloring and became entirely iridescent green, glowing slightly.

Harvey Dent rarely felt fear. His life was more often than not guided by the toss of a coin. Now though, he stared in the eyes of Poison Ivy, except ten times scarier. He was already afraid of that woman after she almost fed him to her ‘precious’.

“I… I am deeply sorry madame.” He spoke carefully. “Men! We are moving out. Leave the bags!” And with that, they were all gone.

Most of the reporters gave Mari big applause. There was only one angry old man that stared daggers at the girl.

“You let that scum go away!” He shouted. “He was a criminal.”

“Sir. You are free to go after him if that’s your wish. I’m at work and my job description never included chasing after criminals.”

“But… But…”

“Anyway, we were in the middle of the press conference if I’m not mistaken.”

-------

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #batman #BatFam #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #BAMF Marinette #Mother!Ivy #redeemed!chloe #Good!Adrien Agreste #dc #MLB #mlb x dc

218 notes · View notes

ur-favorite-queer-queen · 3 years

Text

School Dance

For Maribat March day 25 theme school dance

Master List

“Now remember class,” Mrs. Davis spoke, “The Father Daughter dance is tomorrow afternoon at 5 till 7, make sure you get your tickets at the booth near the cafeteria.”

“Yes Mrs. Davis.” All the students answered in unison.

Little Charlotte Martha Brown-Wayne walked out of her 4th grade class with her best friend, Faith Couffaine, in tow.

“So Char, are you going to be going to the dance?” Faith asked, her blue eyes locked onto Charlotte.

“I don’t think so Fae.” Charlotte turned so that her brown eyes faced the ground.

“Why not? Me and my dad are going to be there!” Faith exclaimed, fixing her headband that somehow got tangled in her thick black hair.

“Yeah because you have a dad, I don’t think moms are allowed.” Charlotte replied, tucking some stray pieces of her dark brown hair behind her ears.

“Oh please, just bring one of your moms, it’ll be fine!”

“But Fae-” She turned her head to face her best friend.

“No don’t Fae me. I already got my ticket and I know your parents are just waiting for you to ‘remember’,” She used air quotes, “to get yours. You’ll be fine Char, plus isn’t your mom really looking forward to this?” She didn’t wait for her to answer, “Exactly, so I expect to see you there.”

“Fae-”

“Bye Charlotte, you better not leave me hanging!” Was the last thing said before she raced to hug her mom and leave in her limo.

“Ugh, really Faith.” Charlotte then walked to the place where Alfred was always parked in order to pick her up.

“Hello Miss Charlotte, did you have a good day at school?” Alfred questioned as he got out of the car to open the door for her.

“It was fine.”

“Now you’re not forgetting anything are you?” Charlotte froze like a deer in headlights, acting was not her strong suit.

“No?” Neither was lying, just like her maman.

Alfred opened the door for her and she quickly ducked inside, Alfred returned to his seat but didn’t move. He also didn’t lock the doors.

“Miss Charlotte, why do you not want to go to the dance?” A simple question with a complicated answer, at least in her mind.

“Everyone is gonna be there with their dad. I won’t because I don’t have a dad. I would be there with mom, I’d be the outcast.”

“I don’t believe the gender of the parent you bring should matter as long as you have fun.”

“It's called the Father Daughter dance for a reason Alfred.”

“A simple label that should not matter Miss Charlotte.” He thought for a minute, “Tell me Miss Charlotte, will any of your friends care that you bring your mom?”

She thought back to what Faith had been saying the entire week. “No.”

“Will your classmates?”

She thought again, she didn’t interact with her classmates a ton, but none of them seemed to mind the fact that she had 2 moms. “Probably not.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“It's just-I’ll look weird because I’m the only one with my mom. Everyone else will be there with their fathers and I’ll be there with my mother.”

“Like I stated before Miss Charlotte, it matters not the gender of the parent as long as you have fun with them. I have no doubt that some of your classmates will be their fathers but will be miserable.”

Charlotte snapped her head up to look at him, like the mere thought of one of her classmates being miserable with their father at the Father Daughter dance was impossible. But it seemed reasonable, she knew quite a few of her classmates who talked fondly about their mothers but not their fathers. And when the subject of the Father Daughter dance came up, they never participated in the conversations unless asked, and their answers were never enthusiastic. Plus Alfred was always right, that’s what her mom, maman, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandfather taught her.

She nodded her head in determination, opening the car door and saying over her shoulder, “Be right back Alfred!”

She pulled a 5 dollar bill out of her backpack pocket, one that had been haunting her for the past week. She made her way to the cafeteria then to the booth right next to it.

“Hello Charlotte. Here to buy a ticket?” The lady, she’s pretty sure is a fifth grade teacher, asked.

“Yes ma’am.” She handed her the 5 dollar bill and received a small slip of paper in return.

“Remember to show that to the lady who will be at the entrance tomorrow. That’s the only way she’ll let you in. Promise not to lose it?”

“I promise.” She smiled at the woman before racing back to where Alfred was waiting.

“Mom! Maman!” Charlotte called as she entered the manor. Not hearing their voices she assumed they were in the kitchen so she went to her room to drop her backpack off and change into some more comfy clothes.

After changing out of her uniform and into some leggings and a t-shirt she made her way to the kitchen where she found her moms.

Her maman was baking something, probably cookies, while her mom watched her, occasionally handing her ingredients. It wasn’t an uncommon sight for Charlotte, in fact they had family baking days every Sunday. The only hard part was getting their attention, since whenever they baked they were always in their own little world together.

Her eyes caught the frosting that she was guessing her maman had just finished making. Perfect.

She made her way over to the bowl, grabbed the spoon, and took a big bite of the sweet treat. And as predicted,

“Charlotte!”

She turned and there her maman stood staring at her, hands on her hips as she tried to fight the smile off her face. Her mom was trying to hold back her giggling in the background.

“Hi maman. Hi mom.”

“Why are you eating frosting? When you know you’re not allowed.” Her maman gave her a pointed look.

“It was the only way to get your attention.”

“She’s not wrong Nette.” Steph interjected, coming up to stand next to Charlotte. She crouched down so she was at Charlotte’s level, “Did you get the ticket.”

“Yes, it's in my backpack.”

“Ok make sure you don’t lose it. We all know you have your maman’s memory.”

“Hey! My memory is not that bad!” Marinette protested.

“Anymore. We all know what your memory was like when you were younger.” Steph reminded.

“...Fine. I’ll give you that.”

“Can I help frost the cookies?” Charlotte asked.

“Of course my little ladybug. Pinkie promise not to eat any frosting?” Steph held out her pinkie to Charlotte.

“Yes mom!” Charlotte held out her pinkie, returning the promise.

“Charlotte! Are you almost ready!” Steph shouted from outside her room.

“Almost ready mom!” Charlotte replied as she adjusted the golden colored clip in her hair.

“Charlotte you look great.” Marinette came to stand next to her in the mirror.

Charlotte ran her hands down her black and gold dress for the umpteeth time. Whatever she did, something just didn’t look right. But she didn’t know what.

“Something doesn’t look right.”

“I think I have an idea of what might help,” Marinette took a gold necklace off her neck, “Here you go.”

“Wait Maman, isn’t this your favorite necklace.”

“It is, but I think for tonight it’ll look best with you.” Marinette put the necklace around Charlotte’s neck and clipped it in the back. “There, what do you think?”

“I love it,” She turned around and hugged Marinette, “Thank you Maman!”

“Of course my beautiful baby bat. Now don’t keep your mom waiting.”

Charlotte opened the door and met her mom’s face on the other side.

“Well look at you little ladybug, ready to go?” Steph held her arm out to Charlotte.

“Yes mom.” Charlotte took her arm as they headed outside where Alfred was waiting.

They seated themselves in the back of the car when Steph noticed the necklace.

"Charlotte, where did you get that necklace?"

"Maman gave it to me. Do you like it?"

"Yes, very much. It even goes with your dress."

"It kinda goes with your dress too."

"I see, did Maman ever tell you how she got that necklace?"

"No, why?"

"We have arrived Miss Stephanie and Miss Charlotte." Alfred spoke.

"I'll tell you later." Steph promised.

“You better.” Charlotte grumbled as they got out of the car, unsure if her mom actually heard her.

“They’re pretty cute huh?” A man asked Stephanie. Both parents were watching their respective daughters dance together, the two girls forgetting about their parents that sat only a few feet away.

“Adorable. I’m Stephanie, by the way, Charlotte’s mom.” She held her hand out to the man.

“Ethan, Jasmine’s dad.” He returned the handshake.

“I don’t suppose we could arrange some playdates in the future?”

“Of course we can. If I don’t tell Jazzy that she can see her friend again then she’ll have a riot.”

“Well would you look at that! Both of our children have at least one thing in common!”

“Here you can put my number in here.” He slid her his phone.

“And you can put yours in mine.” She handed her phone over.

After putting their information in the other’s phone, they both took their respective phones back and glanced at the names.

“Well Mrs. Brown-Wayne, it seems we will be seeing each other quite a lot in the future.”

“It seems we will Mr. Cook.”

Marinette got a video sent to her later that night. From her lovely wife. She opened up the video to see her daughter dancing with another girl. It seemed she had inherited another one of her traits, the inability to hide her blush.

Marinette giggled to herself as she watched her daughter continue to dance with the unknown girl. It seemed like the other girl was having fun too, if the smile she was wearing and the glow in her eyes told her anything.

The video was followed by a text, ‘I think there will be many more playdates in the future.’

Marinette smiled to herself as she tucked her phone away. Fully planning on getting answers the next day on this mysterious girl who had captured her daughter’s heart. Young love was always so cute to watch.

“Maman?” Charlotte asked as she was being tucked into bed, the night’s events had taken a toll on her. In the comfort of her bed she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Yes my baby bat?” Marinette asked as she sat on her bed.

“Mom never told me how you got that necklace,” She lazily pointed to the necklace that had returned to its original place on Marinette’s neck, “Can you?”

“That’s quite the story, maybe when you're older.”

“Aw, but mom said she would.”

“Did she say she’d tell you later?”

“Uh...yes.”

“When mom says later, she really means not for a long time.”

“Oh…”

“How about about this, in around five years-”

“Five years!”

“Yes, when you're 15, the age I met your mom, I’ll tell you the story.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Charlotte held her pinkie out.

“Pinky promise.” Marinette linked her pinky with her daughter’s.

“Okay goodnight Mom.” Charlotte snuggled into the blankets and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight sweetie.” Marinette gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

She made her way out of the room, silently closing the door, before making her way to her and her wife’s bedroom. She entered and heard her wife getting ready in the bathroom so she sat down on the bed and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long as only a few minutes later her wife came out of the bathroom and sat down with her on the bed.

“Hey what’s on your mind?” Steph asked as Marinette laid her head on her shoulder. Her hand subconsciously fiddling with the gold necklace that sat on her neck.

“Did you tell Charlotte that you would tell her the story of how you got me the necklace?” Marinette got straight to the point, she had learned that sometimes it was much better than beating around the bush.

“Maybe.”

“Stephanie.”

“What! She asked and-”

“You should know better! The necklace has to do with how we met!”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts! You know we didn’t meet the most child friendly way!”

“I know, I just thought that she would forget about it after the dance.”

“I told her I would tell her when she turns 15, now she’s going to be counting down the days till then.”

“I’m sorry Nette.”

“It’s okay Steph, I just wish we had a little time before she knew.”

“She was going to find out eventually, at least now we have a date to prepare ourselves.”

Marinette’s mind went back to a time where her only worries were what to wear for her next date with Stephanie. Where she didn’t have to worry about her best friend dying, or the grief that followed.

“Come on let’s not worry about it tonight.” Steph brought her out of her stupor.

“Yeah, goodnight Steph.”

“Goodnight Nette.”

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

You have literally no idea how long this took me to write. There will be part 2, I kinda left you guys hanging, but that won’t be for a long time. Anyways I do hope that you enjoyed, like I said in day 24 of Maribat March, Story, I will be posting 2 of these each time I come back from the dead. Now I am going to go finish school work so I don’t fail! Who knows when you’ll see me next?

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #maribatmarch2021 #maribat march #stephanie x marinette #they have a kid #cliffhanger #there will be a part 2 #eventually

47 notes · View notes

shield-sheafson · 4 years

Link

Chapters: ¼ Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown Additional Tags: Found Family, Fluff, Light Angst, Homelessness, Cass knows like 8 words rip, slight crime, Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain meet earlier, Cassandra Cain and Jason Todd are Siblings, but not blood siblings in this just two kids who adopted each other, street siblings au Summary:

Professional street urchin Jason Todd is struck by an uneasy feeling and suspects someone is following him. That someone is former child assassin Cassandra Cain, who, with nowhere else to go, is taking a leap of faith.

—

This is my take on the Street Siblings AU by @a-sketchy-character! I told them earlier that I’d write something for it, so here I am owning up! Of course, you can read their comic based on this au @streetsiblings. Of course, @greytoiletpaper also wrote one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100699/chapters/66175306) and Experimental_Muse wrote this one (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037882). Go check them out! Since this is such a popular concept, I hope I do a good job.

—

Jason pops another M&M into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue instead of chewing it. He has no idea why someone would throw away a perfectly good bag of candy, but he’s not going to think too hard about it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he can feel the strength coming back into his limbs. He feels less sleepy, too.

He tucks the empty bag into the pocket of his frayed jeans, already regretting finishing them. Now that he’s eaten something, what else is he going to do with his day? He hasn’t found any cigarettes, which is a pain, since it’s so cold that his nose feels numb and he could really use some warm smoke to fill up his aching lungs.

Maybe he’ll go to the library. He’s still too small to kick out for loitering, right? Just as he turns to leave the alley, Jason feels a shiver run up his spine. He whips around, raising his fists defensively. Nobody’s there. This doesn’t calm him down. Jason squints as he peers into the dark, wet alley, looking for any sign of movement.

“Hey,” he says in the deepest, roughest voice he can muster. “Think good and hard about what you’re about to do, buddy.”

What is the invisible person about to do? Jason isn’t sure, but he wants them to think good and hard about it. He hears a scuffle and nearly jumps out of his skin only to realize that it’s just a rat migrating from beneath the dumpster to a pile of cardboard boxes.

“What are you playing?” Jason asks. This voice is making his throat hurt. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Nobody answers. Jason weighs his options and decides that the best choice is to make a run for it. He nearly slips on a patch of slush in his haste to get out of the alley. Even when he’s a safe two blocks away he still has an uneasy feeling.

—

A couple of hours later, Jason has shaken off that gross feeling and has settled down outside the 7-11. He used to go here a lot– when his mom was around, it was where they got their groceries. Sometimes she’d splurge and they would split a can of Yoohoo. Even though he doesn’t have any money to go in with, something about the worn bricks and the smoky smell is comforting.

A gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes and a scraggly gray beard joins him, sitting gingerly on the damp ground.

“Afternoon,” he says cordially.

“It’s dark out,” Jason says. He’s not sure what time it actually is. Days and nights tend to blur together. They’re basically the same, though nights tend to be more dangerous.

“Damned if it isn’t,” the man says. “What’s a kid doing out this late?”

“Anywhere else I’m supposed to be?” Jason asks, scowling.

“Just askin’, just askin’,” the man says, raising his palms. “I’d just get somewhere safe if I was you. Some guy’s been– what?”

“What?” Jason repeats after him. “What’s going on?”

“Just thought I… It’s not safe for kids out there lately, is all I’m sayin’.”

Jason sighs and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, dragging down the edge of his hoodie. “Is it that big a deal?” It’s never really safe out there, but he’s always gotten by fine. “You’re not a kid, so you’re fine.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a little empathy,” the man says.

Jason rolls his eyes and walks off to find another place to lurk.

—

It happens the next day, too. Jason has the unpleasant feeling of eyes on his back when he covertly removes a woman’s wallet from her purse and he’s certain someone is about to yell “Stop! Thief!” but nobody does.

When he walks proudly out of McDonald’s with a bag of french fries bought will ill-gotten money, he expects someone to ask for one. Of course, he would have said “no,” but it’s almost disappointing when there’s nobody to answer. He’s not disappointed enough to be really put-off, though. He still stuffs his face wholeheartedly.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid.

—

Jason has been sleeping rough lately. The condemned buildings are already full of squatters, and he knows better than to accept “help” from people who offer couches to young boys. With nowhere inside to sleep, he’s been hiding from the sleet in a cardboard shelter he built in an out-of-view area between buildings and lined with newspaper.

Of course, it’s not usually safe to build a fire when your whole house is so flammable, but he’s risking it tonight. He has a pile of yet more cardboard and newspaper on the other side of the alley, but it’s damp and he’s having a rough time getting it to set alight.

“Come on,” he mutters as he clicks the lighter yet again. It’s a nice one (his mother had liked it a lot) but it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Jason curses under his breath as the edge of the funnies page smolders and blackens without actually catching fire. Garfield stares at him judgmentally. That’s when he hears it.

A light “thump,” soft but unmistakable. Jason’s head snaps up. He’s afraid to turn and look. At best, it’s another bum looking to share his fire. At worst, it’s…

“What are you looking at?” he says harshly, still not turning his head. “Go find somewhere else.”

The presence at his back doesn’t go away. He feels frozen in place– he’ll admit it, he’s afraid. He knows someone has been following him. He doesn’t know who or why. He hasn’t had a moment where it’s not on his mind, and now his mysterious pursuer is right behind him. His only option is to protect himself.

Jason very slowly reaches into his pocket for the worn switchblade he’s carried since he was nine. His hand trembles as he wraps his fingers around the cold handle.

A hand is laid on his shoulder. He shoots up, pulling the knife out of his pocket and spinning around to face the person behind him.

Before he’s able to do anything a small, strong hand wraps around his wrist, stopping the freed knife in its path. His arm is yanked forward and a palm is shoved under his chin, forcing his face up. He just stands that way for a second, too shocked to move. His opponent doesn’t try to do anything else; they just keep him stuck with his chin pushed up and his arm stretched out, knife useless.

Slowly, cautiously, the hand under his chin lowers, though the grip on his wrist is still tight. He gets a good look at the person who’s apparently decided to hold him hostage.

They’re a kid. They’re (she’s) a little girl, much shorter than him, with big, serious eyes and a mouth covered by a heavy scarf.

“You’re really small,” he says through the hand that’s still partly covering his mouth. “What the fuck.”

She assesses him, eyes darting from his face to his free hand to his battered shoes. Slowly, she loosens her grip and lets go of his chin, releasing him. She takes a step back, body tense and ready to attack or dart away at any second.

Jason clicks his blade back into its case and slides the knife back into his pocket, not looking away from the girl’s face. She has dirty black hair that hangs in her eyes and thick brows. Her nose is delicate and rounded. If she hadn’t just had him in a painful hold, he would have assumed she was harmless.

“Why have you been following me around?” he asks. She doesn’t answer. “What do you want from me?” Again, no answer. Jason sighs (a puff of mist from his mouth). “I’m Jason.” He holds out his hand. Hesitantly, she grips it. Her hand is cold and thin. She still doesn’t say anything.

The girl lets go of his hand and points to the lighter on the ground. It glints at him in greeting.

“What?” Jason asks.

The girl squats on the ground and retrieves the lighter. She hands it to him and points at the pile of cardboard and newspaper.

“Wanna make a fire?” he asks. “There’s garbage in there, so it’ll stink.”

She doesn’t nod. She just points again expectantly.

“'Kay,” Jason says. “Can you talk at all?”

The girl doesn’t respond. Jason shrugs and crouches by his fire heap. The girl plops back on her bottom and crosses her legs.

It takes a while to get it to light. It’s a little embarrassing failing again and again with someone there to watch. Finally, one of the dryer pieces of paper goes alight and spreads to one of the bigger pieces of cardboard.

“See? It does work!” Jason says. Does he sound defensive? “It usually works fine,” he adds. This doesn’t make him any less embarrassed. He puts the lighter in his pocket with the switchblade and holds his hands out, taking in the heat. The girl pulls down her scarf. In the flickering light, he can see she’s smiling at him. She holds out her hands too, and they sit in silence for some time.

—

Jason realizes he’s awake before his eyes open. He’s aware again that his nose and fingers are cold and the back of his hair is wet from the damp concrete. His eyes flicker open and he sees that it’s daytime, pale gray and foggy. He rolls over, realizing with some consternation that he’s not even in his box hut. Anybody could have come and gotten him while he was asleep. He’s lucky they didn’t. He shouldn’t be so– what.

Someone is a few feet away from him, sitting up with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, looking at him thoughtfully.

Jason scrambles backward, scraping his hands on the rough concrete. He bumps his head on the brick wall behind him. It seems that the bricks knock some sense into him because suddenly the events of last night come back to him and he feels like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” he asks, rubbing his head.

The girl scoots over to him and pats his shoulder. Ah. She’s still not talking. Jason sits up straight. He pats her shoulder back. She smiles.

“So, do you just want to hang around here?” Jason asks, even though he knows she won’t answer. “In this alley?”

The girl just looks at him. This is starting to get frustrating.

“Just– just stay, I guess,” Jason says, standing. He points at the ground. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go get something to eat.”

He backs out of the alleyway, raising his palms as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal. He turns around when he’s certain that she’s staying. He puts his hands in his pockets and releases a breath of relief. Something about that girl makes him nervous. What’s her game? Is she just stupid? He wraps his fingers around the lighter and somehow feels a little more secure.

Jason settles outside a coffee shop and crosses his legs. Dozens of people walk right past him, ignoring his grubby face as they head to work.

“Hey, miss,” Jason says, making eye contact with a woman in a blue pantsuit. An almost fearful look falls on her face as she realizes she’s been wrangled into an interaction with him. “Got a dollar?”

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t carry change.” She scurries off, nearly slipping in her high heels on the icy sidewalk.

“'Scuse me,” Jason says to the lady with the corgi on a leash. “That’s a cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you,” the lady says apprehensively. She walks a little faster.

“Wait!” Jason says. “Can I pet him?”

“S-sure,” the lady says. She turns and walks the dog up to Jason. It smiles stupidly at him. Jason stretches his hand out and it sniffs him with its wet nose. Jason rubs it between the ears. Even though this is for selfish reasons, he appreciates its attention.

“Can you spare seventy cents?” Jason asks. “For a bottle of water?”

The lady, with nowhere to escape to, reaches into her purse, takes out a dollar, and drops it into Jason’s open hand. Jason thanks her sweetly. When she walks away, he can’t hide his shit-eating grin.

Jason manages to gather up seven dollars before the coffee shop’s manager comes out and says “scram.” Jason smiles appeasingly as he leaves. He knows better than to get in a fight with someone without holes in their shoes.

At the convenience store, Jason buys an energy drink and a hot dog, like usual. Then he remembers someone is waiting for him and adds a plastic-wrapped breakfast sandwich. He’s wondering whether the stupid girl is a coffee person when the cashier starts giving him suspicious looks, so he grabs another Red Bull and pays quickly.

It’s kind of nice shopping for someone else. Even if it’s a little sad to think about the last time he was shopping for two. He whistles quietly as he walks through the glass door when– oops.

“Watch where you’re going!” he snaps.

The girl steps back and smiles apologetically.

“Oh… It’s you.” The door swings shut behind Jason. “I’d ask you to stop following me, but I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

The girl tilts her head. Maybe she does understand? Whatever.

He gestures for her to follow him. The convenience store people don’t like it when he hangs out right by the door. It creeps out the customers.

There aren’t as many people on the sidewalk anymore; they’ve all gone on with their days. Jason notices that the girl skips a little on her shorter legs to keep up with him. She isn’t wearing socks, he realizes. That can’t be good in this weather.

They stop to sit on the front steps of the law office. Jason pulls the food out of his plastic grocery bag and hands the sandwich to the girl. She takes it gratefully. He takes out his hot dog and realizes that the jostling while he was walking has deconstructed it. He shrugs.

“I’m guessing you’re new around here,” Jason says. “You’re not supposed to just latch on to people.”

The girl starts tearing greedily into her sandwich.

“I do pretty well on my own. I’m not gonna babysit you, you know.”

She nods. Again, Jason isn’t sure she’s taking in what he’s saying.

“Seriously. You can’t hang out with me. I’m busy.”

She smiles. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I like being alone.”

The sandwich is gone. She points to his hot dog.

“I mean, I guess,” he says, handing it to her. She looks at it for a second. A guilty expression falls on her face and she hands it back. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Cassandra,” she says.

“Wait, you can talk?”

“Jason,” she says, patting his shoulder.

The snow is dirty, but the sun glints off it prettily. Jason hates to admit it, but he’s in a pretty good mood right now.

#batman #dcu #jason todd #cassandra cain #street siblings au #dc #me writing

105 notes · View notes

awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands · 4 years

Text

We are married now! ( 2019! Slaxl)

A/N: Here’s the sequel to this oneshot about Slash proposing to Axl. Because let’s be honest, current Slaxl deserves love too!

1992

Slash was smoking a cigarette, absently looking in the distance. They finally had a break from shooting, so he sat on the stairs of the church, frustration and tiredness rising in his chest.

He was so annoyed by Axl’s perfectionism, and by the whole storyline of that freaking music video. They were a rock band, they came from the streets, they were supposed to represent that, not filming about a love story and a wedding in a church in the middle of a desert!

But what irritated Slash the most was that he had to marry her! He had to stand to watch Axl and that girl kissing over and over, watching her walking down the aisle and seeing the smile on his singer’s face. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he was supposed to be the one looking at the redhead like that, he should have felt Axl’s lips on his, held his hand or call him his husband.

Slash was the one to deal with the other man’s mood swing, he was the one taking care of him when he couldn’t get out of the bed, he comforted him after a nightmare, or made him feel safe whenever they were in Indiana.

Usually he wasn’t bother by things, but all of that really was testing his calm. Because deep down, he knew he was in love with Axl.

He was in love with Axl fucking Rose!

“Can I have one?” His singer’s deep voice said, sitting next to him.

Slash handing him one, not even looking him in the eyes.

“Are you angry Slash?” The redhead asked.

“No, I’m not.” The guitarist answered with a neutral tone.

“Oh fuck you Saul, I know you! I can see when you’re angry.”

“Yes, I’m fucking annoyed, okay?! You know how I feel about music videos. Plus we are a rock band, born from the streets and we are shooting a video in a stupid church in the desert.” Slash didn’t sound pissed, just tired and indifferent, or at least he tried to look like that.

Axl took a drag from his cigarette, then he looked the curly man into the eyes.

“It’s not just about that. I know that you hate music videos but you never behaved like an angsty teen!”

Saul laughed dryly, moving his hair out of his face, so Axl could see him better.

“I hate her. I freaking hate that backstabber witch so much. But most of all I hate the fact that she has to be the bride, that she is the one to kiss you!” He admitted, biting his lip.

The redhead seemed surprised by his confession, but happy at the same time.

“It is about you, do you know that? November Rain is about you, I wrote it thinking about you. Not about Stephanie or Erin or any other girl.”

Now it was Slash’s turn to look surprised and confused.

“Bullshit! Then why is she here? Why you look like a freaking puppy around her?” He replied, bitterly.

Axl took a big breath, clenching his fists. Slash thought he was about to hit him or scream, but the other talked in a quiet tone, surprisingly.

“If I could I’d let you be the one. Fuck… if I could I’d marry you! You know what? I’m going to marry you, one day I’m going to fucking take you to the aisle, Saul Hudson! You’ll be my husband.

Slash felt a warm sensation in his heart, however his thoughts quickly water it down. He knew that Axl was still scared, still ashamed of liking him, he knew how he was still tormented by his religious past. He would have never

his hand in public or kissed him, and certainly he would have never married him.

He didn’t matter how many times he could have said “I love you” after sex, it was not possible for them to be together. Did he even really love him? So he just laughed.

“Well I hope you can manage to do that before 2020!” He said sarcastically, stomping on his cigarette, then walking away.

But before he could, Axl grabbed his wrist.

“I know it’s not a real one, but that’s my promise!” He stated firmly, he took a ring from his pocket and put it on Slash’s finger, the one he used in the wedding scene.

The guitarist gave in and brushed his lips against Axl’s, but then he walked away with a sad smile.

A part of him really hoped, that the other keep his promise.

2019

Slash was playing with the same ring Axl gave him years ago. He kept it with him after all this time, even when they hated each other or so they have thought.

Usually he was hardly nervous, but today he felt on the edge, probably the fact that he was about to marry the man of his life didn’t help. But it was so useless to get worried : Axl loved him, most of the fans were supportive and even his two kids, London and Cash, were more than happy to have also “Papa Axl” with them!

Duff was his best man, and like the old times, he seemed to know the exact moment he needed to comfort somebody. He got in the room, and put his hands on Slash’s shoulder, feeling the other man tension.

“What’s wrong buddy? And don’t lie to me, I know you too well!”

“What if everything will go wrong, after we get married? Slash answered, still playing with his ring.

“Why should that happen? You both wanted to get married, and even your kids agree!” Duff said, calmly.

“Maybe I can’t be in a marriage? I’ve been in two and everything went to shit!”

“Yeah but your last one lasted 20 years! The point is that you two always loved each other, you probably wanted to do this since the early days! I know your brain is making you think shit but that’s not the truth!” Duff said firmly. “ Now just breathe and think about all the sappy things you two can do, as soon as you become husbands.” He added with a smile.

“We both want that and he loves me, everything will be okay. God, I bet Axl is so chill about this, while I’m the one freaking out this time!” Saul said with a laugh, ready to drive to their wedding location.

---

Axl was totally not chill. He was pacing the room, he felt anxious and worried, biting his lips.

“C’mon Ax, you’re being unreasonable right now. He proposed you! How couldn’t he want to be your husband?!” Izzy stated, sounding a bit annoyed.

Yes, Axl asked Izzy Stradlin to be his best man. Time passed and they were on good terms, at least enough to make Izzy accept to do this.

“What if it doesn’t work out? Fuck we haven’t spoken to each other for decades! We’ve been together for only three and a half years, what if it is too early?” The redhead shoot back.

Izzy sighed, rubbing his temples. Axl may have changed but some things about him didn’t.

“Look at me! You love him and he loves you, he proposed to you because he wanted you as his husband. He talked about you all the time, he was such a pain in the ass and we both know how your man is, if he doesn’t want to do something he won’t do it first!” The black haired man said, holding Axl’s shoulders steadily.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck, yes Axl I’m sure! He came all the time in my hotel rooms, drunk as fuck, talking about how you were an asshole but also perfect and how we wanted you so bad! Now stop freaking out or I’ll call Beta.” He smiled and the redhead relaxed a bit.

“ It’s better if we go, because I don’t want to show up late this time too! And also because if I show up late, Slash I’ll say I’m the bride!” Axl said with a laugh.

---

Axl didn’t arrive late, however Slash was already there.

He stopped a moment to look at the beautiful garden where they choose to marry, surrounded by red roses bushes, who made everything cheesy as fuck, but Axl loved it nonetheless. It was simply but also eccentric, just like him and Slash.

Then his eyes were fixed on his soon-to-be husband talking to Duff :he looked so good with his wild curls and his half open shirt, a little smile on his face and the ring he gave him years ago around his neck. They decided to use a replica of that as their wedding rings, because the redhead was that sentimental!

Somebody had to say something about the groom being there, because Slash turned around and he spotted Axl, his mouth slightly open and his eyes full of joy.

“You look stunning, my love. I really dig this suit!” He said smiling widely, eyes full of love.

“ I was very tempted to put on the same suit I had on during “November Rain” but unfortunately it doesn’t fit me anymore.” The other man replied, blushing and with a sad smile.

He was very self-conscious about his appearance, considering that Slash was still so fit and sexy to him. However his boyfriend wouldn’t never let Axl’s insecurities eat the man he loved.

“I like you better this way and if I wasn’t about to get married, I’d ask your number!” He joked with a smirk.

“You’re the same idiot I fell in love with. And your ass is still as great as it was in the 80s!” Axl whispered the last part, making Slash hiding behind his hair for a split second.

“Maybe we should go, or post marriage sex will become pre marriage sex!” The curly man grabbed his hand and led his almost husband to the justice of the peace.

There were not many people, just their closest friends ( including Steven you was more than happy to join) and families. It was strange for two rock stars to save such a modest wedding, but they didn’t care, they just wanted it to celebrate their love with the people who accepted them.

“We are here today to celebrate the union of Axl and Saul, two men who decided to consolidate their love through marriage. Now you shall say your votes.” The judge said.

Axl stared it, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t think many of you know this but I promise to Slash that we would be married. It was 1992 and we were filming November Rain, and he was upset because he loved me too much to see him with another person. Little did he know that I was also totally in love with him, and if I could I was ready to marry him right on the spot, and actually I said it to him but he was very stubborn that day, so he left me standing in the desert. Now almost 30 years later, he asked me to get married, with the same song I dedicated to him. Saul Hudson, you’re the love of my life. I’ve never been so happy until we got reunited and you decided to stay, you show me what a happy life was, you loved me with all my flaws, you never judged me but you were always there to help me. Sure we did some very stupid things back then, but I’d want nothing more than just be your husband and be at your side, in health and sickness and all that bullshit! Because me and you can’t be apart even if we want to!”

The redhead was trying his best to not cry, and honestly Slash started to have some difficulties with that too. He looked at Axl’s beautiful eyes and smiled softly.

“I thought that I wanted to marry you when I saw your smile during our concert in Austin, but that’s not the truth. Maybe I’ve always wanted it, or maybe when I saw you in that pirate style jacket, my heart went “marry him” while my head was “ he kind of looks like a douche bag”, but still I’ve dreamt this day for a while. People always think that I’m the one who saved you, that I tamed the angry and crazy beast named Axl Rose, but that’s not true. Axl Rose saved me too, he showed me how it was wonderful to be loved, because I didn’t know what love or happiness really was, until I met him, and not a single drug in the world can give me what my boyfriend gives me! So yeah, I will love you too in health and sickness, even if you don’t like much my snakes!”

Slash tried to laugh but he really felt the emotions taking the best of him, especially when he laid his eyes on the crying redhead in front of him.

“You can exchange your rings!”

Saul took Axl’s hand in his, and gently he put the ring on, a simple one but full of meaning for them. The other man did the same, kissing his future partner in life.

“By the authority vested in me by the State of California, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss!” The judge said with a smile.

Slash’s lips softly smashed on Axl’s one, as all the crowd erupted in a round of applause. But for the both of them time seemed to stop, what mattered was only the feeling of their lips linked and their hearts joined.

“You’re my husband, you are really my husband!” The curly guitarist said smiling.

“Told you I’d make it before 2020. You didn’t believe me, but I could never let you go away from me. Maybe for 20 years you did, but now we are tied!” Axl joked, but then he got serious again. “ Thank you so much for being the love of my life, Saul Hudson.”

“Thank you for have let me be the one, Axl Rose.”

---

In the big ballroom where they would eat, cut the cake and do their first dance, friends and family were already sitting down, talking happily to each other.

The married couple finally arrived, and they find Steven, Izzy and Duff talking at their table. Beta and part of his family was there too, along with Slash’s kids, while the rest of the current band sat at a near table.

“Yeah man, he was a pain in the ass. He was constantly talking about him when he was drunk, always saying that he hated him but he couldn’t stop loving him!” Izzy explained to Duff.

“Yeah, well also Slash was like that. He would complain that he didn’t understand him, that he was a fucking psycho but he loved him and he would make him go crazy, one day!” Duff replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, fuck you Duff, that was supposed to be a secret!” Slash shoot back, annoyed.

“No no, I want to know. I was always so oblivious until 91!” Steven said, very excited.

Axl laughed, then he felt somebody getting closer to him.

“You know at first I wanted to punch him in the face, but now I can see how much you love each other. But if he breaks your heart, I’m going to really hurt him!” Beta said firmly, and Axl couldn’t help but smile at her over the protectiveness of his adoptive mom.

---

The light were turned a bit down, and the familiar notes of “Love of my life” by Queen started playing.

Slash took Axl’s hand in his and led him in the center of the dance floor.

“Are you nervous, my love?” Saul asked, surprised.

“I think this is the first ever slow dance we two had together” He answered nervously.

“Wrong. ’88 in that weird hotel in Florida, we danced in your room listening to the radio.”

“ I was drunk and you were high and we fell on the floor before we could finish the song!”

Slash laughed and brought his husband closer to him, so that the redhead could rest his head on his shoulder.

“I know you love Queen and we like this song, but why you have chosen this one?” The guitarist was curious, he knew that November Rain was not their song to dance, it was for the more intimate and important moment, when they needed to tell the other how much they loved them, like he did during his proposal.

“Sweet Child O’Mine was not an option, one because you hate the riff and two because it was not about you. Like well maybe it was a bit about you, but still it was not our song, while this one used to be the one that would make me think about you all the time!” The singer confessed, playing with the other man’s curls.

Slash led him, even made him spin a bit, then he gulped and looked him into the eyes.

“When I thought I had four weeks left of living, I left you a letter at the bottom of your door. I begged Izzy to tell me where you lived and I left it there, I thought that I was dying and I wanted you to read the letter where I explained everything, but then the next morning I took it away.” Slash blurted out nervously, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“I read it, I read it and I thought it was a joke, that it was not true. I cried and almost smashed something and put it outside. Then the next morning I read the news and I understand it was true, you were dying and that letter was yours, but it was already gone. Fuck we are such two idiots!” Axl laughed but he also started crying.

Slash quickly wiped his tears, hugging him tightly.

“Shhh don’t cry baby. It’s okay, it’s a happy day!” He soothed him.

“You could have been gone, and I was suck a prick. You could have died and I was too resentful to give you a proper goodbye! You loved me even if I was broken and I did that!” He cried.

“Shhh babe, I’m here and I’m not gone. And it’s okay, I was a prick too, but what matters is that we are together and married. You were not broken baby and you deserve my love!” Saul kissed him, feeling his eyes tearing up a bit, too.

It was a slow and passionate kiss, all their love, passion and insecurities were in it. They held it for a while, before they started noticing people coming to the dance floor.

“You two are so in love, it is almost sickening!” Duff stated with a laugh.

“Leave them alone Duffy, they are so cute!” Steven chimed in.

“Thank you so much for coming here guys, this mean a lot to me, to us.” Axl said, squeezing Slash’s hand.

“Don’t get all sappy on us, Rosie. But yeah we love you too, and I think you guys should cut the cake now.” Izzy observed, pushing them lightly.

---

When they finally arrived at their home, they were tired as hell much so much happy.

“Well, this is our wedding night…” Slash started, laying on the bed.

“And?” Axl knew exactly where his husband was going, but he wanted to tease him a bit. Also, he was trying to feel less insecure about his body.

“Oh c’mon Rosie, you know what happens on the first wedding night! And before you even think about it, you’re so fucking hot in that suit, that I feel almost bad to want to take it off. Almost.

The redhead smiled, and got on top of the guitarist.

“Let’s do something before you fall asleep, Mr.Rose!” Axl teased, taking off his shirt.

“But you have to promise that you’ll be quiet, Mr. Hudson!” Slash shoot back with a laugh.

Married life never felt better for both men.

#guns n roses #slash #axl rose #steven adler #80srock #80s rock band #fanfic #fanfiction #slaxl #2019!slaxl #duff mckagan #izzy stradlin #guns n roses fanfic

81 notes · View notes

meepmoopfanfics · 4 years

Text

you don’t get a win unless you’re playing the game: Daveed Diggs x Reader. Chapter 2.

Reminder: this is gonna be a long fic! please be patient :)

You are finally ending an excruciating first week of dance rehearsals.

You’re gearing up finishing Act I finally, your brain feeling completely fried from all of the material given, especially the vocal parts. You were so used to singing the melody line of all the songs and being given the alto part was a challenge in itself, let alone applying singing while doing the choreography. The dancing was second nature but you didn’t realize how much stamina you’d actually need to getting the notes out without sounding breathy, pitchy or exhausted. You did NOT want to embarrass yourself in front of the OBC when it came time to integrate.

You had only worked with the ensemble closely so far and were getting close with Stephanie, the universal dance captain of the show. She had mentioned to you that the principals and ensemble members would be having a little hang out session at her brother’s penthouse apartment downtown after rehearsals ended tonight.

“Brilliant work today everyone. I know it’s been tough. But take the weekend to really review the material and let everything sink in.” Stephanie’s eyes were lit up. The way she was so attentive to detail and every backstory of every movement was so inspiring and eye opening.

You wiped the sweat off of your face as you partner, aka M3, aka George Eaker, aka Cedric, gave you a wink and a thumbs up. You were way too lucky to be matched with Cedric. If you jumped across the stage, somehow you’d trust him to catch you with seconds to spare before landing.

The ensemble cheered together and began to pan out to the house to grab their things and head up to their dressing rooms to get ready for the party.

“Is everyone coming tonight?” Stephanie yelled excitedly.

You heard a cannon of yeses and hell yeahs around the group.

“The wolfpack’s coming too!” That was her nickname for the OBC crew. “It’s gonna be a raaaaaager!” She started gyrating her hips. Everyone erupted with laughter.

“A safe one at that, of course. Be on your best behavior around Lin… just kidding he’s an absolute child.

Alright now go, get out. Go get hot.”

You followed the ensemble up the stairs backstage to end up at your dressing room which you shared with W4, Michelle.

“Girl... what’re ya wearing tonight? I can’t decide.” Michelle asked while anxiously rummaging through her back full of scribbled on legal pads, muscle rollers, and random items of clothing.

You had packed your favorite black jeans that made your legs look flawless, your signature suede boots, and a Kith hoodie. You wanted to look put together but also casual and cool. Most importantly, you wanted to impress all of your idols. This was your only chance to give them the best first impression of you.

You thought about grabbing your Oakland sweatshirt that your parents got you as a gag gift for Christmas, in honor of your celebrity crush’s hometown. You immediately regretted even thinking of wearing it, as Daveed would definitely find it way too weird. You were from Massachusetts... not California. The Bay Area would be embarrassed for you.

“I just brought these little guys. All black, of course. Feel like it does the job. Also, the sweatshirt will let me eat alllllll of the pizza guilt free.”

Michelle stared longingly at your suede boots. “These are fuckin fancy!”

“They’re only Steve Madden!!” You were proud of your ability to find luxury looking goods for a cheap price. You don’t think that will ever change, even when you saw your first broadway check hit your checking account.

You were happy you could share a safe and fun dressing room space with Michelle and knew the two of you would become close friends.

You both ran into the shower room across the hallway, and quickly washed off. You decided you were going to straighten your long light brown hair. You loved your hair, but it got so curly and tangled when you sweat. Thankfully they were going to put you in a wig for the show instead of using your natural locks. Being a head sweat-er was the worst. Your makeup was minimal, as you looked best with a nice dewy makeup glow, with highlighted cheekbones. You wore a nude matte lipstick, which matched the natural color of your lips, and lightly liquid lined a cat eye over your big (insert eye color) eyes.

You saw your reflection. You didn’t know if it was the confidence of finally reaching your goal or if you just were having a good hair/makeup day... but you were stunning.

“Damn mama!” Michelle gasped as she saw your finished look. “Whose mans are you about to steal at this gig? Better not be Cedric, he’s mine.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help to think about who you already had your heart set on.

“Definitely not Cedric.”

Michelle opened her iPhone 11 plus and immediately opted for a mirror selfie. She quickly opened Instagram and posted it to her story.

You opened the app yourself to go check if it looked good.

Posted 32 secs ago

#MamaHam and #TheBullet hit the town 🎉

“Ready?” Michelle asked, putting the final touches of her gold Fenty highlight on her cheeks. “We should grab a quick bite before hitting the place. I plan on drinking my weight in Truly seltzers tonight.”

“Let’s get it.” You smiled. “I’ll call the uber.”

——

You called the uber, hopped in, and began driving downtown. You felt your anxiety creeping up on you.

“Trulys? Really? I’m gonna need to be doing shots of Jager in order to be able to speak a single word to any of these principals.”

“What are you... nervous? You already got the role. You’re equals with these guys.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Guess I’ll just have to act as chill as possible. That’s the plan anyways... also Michelle, wanna know something ridiculous?”

“What?”

“I’ve had a middle school full fledged crush on Daveed since I can remember.”

She blurted out with laughter.

“Well girl he is on the market now. Shoot ya shot.”

You already knew this. Daveed was recently single and focusing on rebuilding himself up. His breakup with his last girlfriend wasn’t bad. It was mature and mutual. You knew he was taking time to himself, so you didn’t want to be overbearingly flirtatious when you first met him.

You also couldn’t stop thinking about your ex, whom you left last year around this time. His goals just weren’t lining up with your future. He hated musicals, he hated almost everything you liked... but you couldn’t stand the fact you shattered his heart.

“I’ll see what happens... after 5 shots.” You responded, winking at Michelle.

You arrived at the cutest little Italian place downtown in TriBeCa. You knew carbs and wine were the perfect pregame for this shindig.

After loads of pasta and splitting a bottle of wine, you began to feel the confidence needed to shake the nerves from you. You hit the bathroom to give yourself a double check before walking to your final destination.

—

As you walked up to the massive high rise residence, you couldn’t believe this was your lifestyle now. As you approached, you noticed an extremely familiar face exit the revolving door.

Holy shit, that’s Rafa.

Rafael Casal. Daveed Diggs’ best friend.

You stopped in your tracks stunned.

He turned his head immediately in your and Michelle’s direction.

“Y/N?! What’s going on?!”

“Shut up shut up shut up...” you whispered through your teeth. “Just keep walking.”

As he passed you both, he smiled, and turned into the Duane Reade on the corner. Probably picking up something he forgot.

You realized you would be on edge all night not being able to keep your cool. Rafa wasn’t even in the damn OBC and here you were, freaking out entirely on the freaking sidewalk.

Through the doors you went, passing the crystal clear marble floors, giant chandeliers, and up to the doorman.

“Can I help you beautiful ladies?”

Michelle blushed. The doorman was actually attractive.

“We’re here for Klemons? Penthouse 2?”

“Oh yeah! Hamilton!!! Love that show. Have fun!”

You hit the elevator as you looked down at your phone.

9:18pm

Perfect timing. Almost 20 mins late. Fashionably late, of course.

“Oh shit shit shit.”

You realized you haven’t changed your wallpaper from Daveed grabbing his crotch.

Michelle laughed as you fumbled to change your wallpaper to a pic of you and your family from when you were younger. Perfect. A conversation starter. Your overthinking was killing you softly.

Your teeth were legit chattering. You felt anxiety waves rush through your nervous system. The pit in your stomach grew. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. This was it. Your chance at something greater than you ever thought was possible to achieve.

The elevator doors opened to the open concept apartment. Voices were clashing over the blaring hip hop music in the dimly lit room. A full bar in the corner, Joe’s pizza scattered over the island in the kitchen. Beer pong set up on the dining room table.

There they were. Every single one of em. Scattered across the flat. Starstruck wasn’t even the beginning of what you felt.

Your eyes scanned quickly around.

There he was. Curly headed locks and all. Leaning up against the floor to ceiling windows that circled the place, holding a cocktail in his strong, large right hand accessorized with a few rings. Simply staring at the sights of the city. He looked like a million bucks and he was in a simple casual outfit. Light washed jeans, black boots, with his left hand in his black hoodie pocket.

Wait. You guys were wearing the same hoodie.

The same fucking hoodie.

Of course this would happen.

tag list:

@alexander-hamilhoe

#daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs #daveed x reader #fanfic #Alexander-hamilhoe

48 notes · View notes

copias-thrall · 4 years

Text

Pretty Thing

[Should I be working on any of my other things? Yes! Did I write this instead? Also yes!]

Mary Goore is a troll.

Yes—a shit stirrer for sure, but mostly he’s a fiend who lives somewhere dank and far from people. Some say he squats in a mausoleum, but others will laugh and tell you he sublets a garden-level apartment. He’s always just around—the scene’s unofficial mascot who flits around, always there with everyone and no one, and damn … you just missed him! But on weekends you can find him working the doors at bars and venues collecting tolls for entry.

On cloudy days, you can find him hanging out in The Pit with all the other gutter punks, passing around a needle to pierce each other and the guitar to play out some tunes. At night, though, he always seems to be hanging off the arm of someone way too clean, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Wherever he lives, he seems to spend more time in someone else’s bed.

It’s a bright, sunny day when you encounter him alone—without the camaraderie of your tribe. Mary Goore is stomping down the sidewalk holding a black-lace parasol aloft. It’s a hot day, so beneath his studded and patched denim vest is just the pale , paleness of his dewy skin—so bright and reflective in the sunshine that you think that maybe he was the inspiration for that vampire. His black jeans are so ripped, you wonder if he wore them special—for the aeration. The carefully-constructed mat of his hair is making a valiant effort to stand up, despite how tufts of it stick to the sweat on his skin.

Some of it’s the shock of seeing Mary Goore out in the sunlight , and some of it is just how blindingly white he is—like sun refracting off a snowdrift—but you can’t help gaping at him even when you know he’s close enough to watch you do it.

Now, you don’t know Mary Goore, but you spend enough time in divey bars and underground venues that you’re sure he at least recognizes you, so you expect maybe a wink as he passes by. Instead he walks straight up to you and stops.

“You’ll catch flies that way,” he says, and you shut your mouth with a click. He leans against the building with his free arm and gives you a once over. “Like what you see, gelfling?”

Reflexively, you look him up and down. What you thought were freckles is actually a collection of moles that dot his skin. It’s cute.

“I thought you were a mirage.”

He snorts and leans into your space. “Cuz I’m a cool drink of water?”

You look down again at the flat planes of his pale chest.

“Because you’re, um … glowing.”

Mary licks his lips and hoods his eyes. Your heart pounds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He leans in, and your eyes flutter closed. You wonder if he’ll taste as rank as he usually looks, or if he’ll taste like mint gum or something. Instead, you feel his lips at the conch of your ear.

“See ya ‘round, gelfling.”

Eyes snapping open, you whip around just in time to him striding away, the parasol still raised to shield him from the sun.

You don’t make it a point to seek Mary out—in fact, you’ve been trying to avoid him, sure he’d only make fun of you. So, it’s a surprise when—while waiting for your drink order—Mary suddenly appears. You start, but he just leans his elbow on the bar.

“Hey,” he says as he catches the straw from his—mostly-finished, bright-yellow drink with a pink paper umbrella—and wraps his plush lips around it. He sucks, and soon you can hear the rattle and slurp as his glass empties. He maintains eye contact with you as he keeps going, the death knell of the drink now gurgling in a prolonged throe as Mary makes use of his surprisingly robust lung capacity.

Before you can say anything, the bartender is placing your pint of beer in front of you.

“That’ll be $6.50, doll.”

Mary waves his arm. “Hey, Ned—put it on my tab.”

Ned raises his eyebrow at him. “You mean ‘Stephanie’s’ tab?” His chin indicates a girl across the room with bright pink and purple hair.

Mary grins, then slams his glass down on the counter. “And make me a tequila sunset.”

“That was a sunrise.”

“I know, man. I like variety.”

When he says ‘variety,’ Mary turns his head to you and winks.

Ned rolls his eyes and buses the glass—but not before Mary plucks out the paper umbrella. Mary crooks his finger at you, but when you hesitate, he leans forward instead.

“I expect you to treasure this forever,” he says as he sticks the umbrella in your hair just above your ear.

You sniff at him. “I’ll treasure it as long as you do your conquests.” You go for a dramatic exit, but almost spill your beer all over you when you practically collide with the guy behind you, and it sloshes a little bit over the lip of the pint glass. Straight backed, you walk stiffly away as Mary guffaws behind you.

The rest of the night, you make a point of not even glancing in Mary’s direction—you don’t want to see if there’s also an umbrella in Stephanie’s hair.

It’s late, and you’re drunk. The lot of you had parted ways after trivia with multiple $5 pitchers. Despite having downed your own weight in French fries, all you want is some fake cheese of the Cheetos variety.

The convenience store is on your way home and it’s still open. After the dark of the night outside, you almost have to shield your eyes from the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights. The bored teen at the counter watches as you stumble around to first the household aisle, then to the candy aisle, and back to the household aisle.

“Motherfucking cum whore,” you say out loud as you squint up at the signs again.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

You jump out of your skin, and almost careen into the greeting card rack—but Mary grabs your arm at the last minute. He’s in his worn leather jacket and some really tight-ass jeans. After leering at his thighs for a moment you say,

“Oh. It’s you.”

Mary squints at you and then grins. “You’re sloshed.”

You make a pffft noise at him.

“What drunk logic has brought you here?”

“I can’t find the Cheetos,” you whine.

He laughs at you. “All right. Hold on.”

You let Mary prop you up against the wall by the magazine rack, and you read all the celebrity gossip headlines while you wait. By the time he finally comes back, your eyes are beginning to droop with sleep.

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers in front of your face. “No sleeping yet.”

“Cheetos,” is all you can manage before pointing into your mouth with an ah noise.

There’s a bag placed into your hands, already open. You shove a handful into your mouth before you remember you have to buy it. So you start rooting around in your pockets.

“Jesus you’re a mess.You’re getting cheese dust everywhere. The fuck are you doing, anyway?”

“Gotta pay,” you mumble around the masticated food in your mouth.

“I took care of it. C’mon.” He puts his arm around your shoulders and guides you out of the store. You notice he’s got a coffee cup in his other hand when he brings it up to his mouth.

Once you’re outside, you see a woman in her best goth blacks and contoured Elvira face. She looks up at the two of you.

“Mare?”

“Aww, shit. Sorry, baby. I gotta walk a friend home. Some other time?”

The woman looks at you; even with Mary’s arm you’re weaving, and you haven’t stopped shoving the snack food into your mouth.

“Yeah, whatever.”

She walks into the street and immediately a cab pulls over.

“All right, you,” Mary says, drawing your attention back to him. “Let’s get you home.”

The two of you walk in silence except for the crunch of the Cheetos and the slurp of the coffee.

When you reach your apartment building, you say, “This is me.”

Mary shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, uh—do you mind if I crash on your couch?” He gives you a sheepish smile. “I kinda thought I’d be sleeping … elsewhere.”

“Me casa su casa,” you slur.

“Cool, thanks.”

You can’t wait to see the looks on your roommates’ faces when they wake up to Mary Fucking Goore in their apartment.

But when you all get up, he’s already gone.

You’re eating meat off a stick to soak up the scorpion bowl you and some coworkers shared after a long fucking week. They’re upstairs getting the dance party started, but you’re not allowed up until you finish, so you’re content to watch the shot girls weave expertly in and out the crowd with their wares.

Suddenly a yellow and orange drink slides in front of you.

“But I didn’t …” you start, and that’s when Mary appears and clinks his bright red drink into yours.

“Fancy seeing you here. Oh—is that chicken?”

Before you can answer, Mary is sliding off a chunk of meat from the skewer and popping it in his mouth.

“Hey!” You sputter at him, but he just pushes the drink at you.

“Drink your sunrise.”

You glare at him, but he just takes a big gulp of his own, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He removes his cherry and holds it out, and you notice that his nails are painted black with a red glitter topcoat.

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.”

Sighing, you remove your cherry and hold it out. As Mary touches his to yours he says “Clink”, and then pops it into his mouth. You do the same, squishing it between your back molars before taking a sip from the plastic stirrer in your sunrise. When you look up again, you see that Mary’s mouth is moving, his eyes unfocused. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he suddenly makes a noise of triumph. He spits something into his palm, which he immediately presents to you proudly.

He’s tied the cherry stem into a knot.

You just gape at him.

Mary deposits the stem into your hand, closing your fingers around it before leaning in. “In case you forget what I can do with my tongue.” Then he gently closes your mouth with a hand to the bottom of your chin. “You know, you keep doing that, and one day someone’s gonna stick something in there.”

Before you have a chance to respond, someone across the bar yells Mary’s name.

“Oop! Gotta bounce! Smell ya later, gelfie.”

And then he’s downing the rest of his drink and heading over to a gaggle of hipsters in flannel and leather. As you finish the last hunk of meat, you watch the group leave as they shout and whoop.

The last thing you expect to see on stage is Mary Goore on guitar when he’s not even in the fucking band. True, he’s been known to mix and match and do the occasional substitution—but there wasn’t even an announcement about it.

He’s in his stage shirt—the one almost covered in myriad blood trails—and a pair of jeans that are only torn at the knees. There’s a line of drinks next to him from admirers that he’s doing his best to slam back in between songs. The venue doesn’t make those kind of mixed drinks, so you’d sent Mary a shot of tequila with a cherry impaled on a plastic sword in it. “Inside joke,” you’d explained to the confused bartender.

When Mary gets to it, you watch the confusion on his face as he examines the contents. Then his head shoots up, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. You wave your own cherried sword at him before sucking the cherry into your mouth. He grins, takes out the sword, and runs it along his tongue before popping the cherry in. There are a few hoots from the audience, and then Mary is shooting the tequila before starting into the chords of the next song.

After the set ends, you convince your friends to stay for another round, vibrating with the certainty that Mary will come out to sass you. You can’t wait to see the look on your friends’ faces when he does.

It’s completely by accident that you even see him leave at all.

You’re waiting in line for the only bathroom in the entire place, when you see the band erupt from the back room. You raise your hand to wave, but Mary isn’t even looking in your direction. Instead, he’s got his arm draped around the bassist—the one everybody considers the “pretty” one—and is close talking in his ear. From the way the bassist’s hand is moving in Mary’s back pocket, you have a good idea who he’s leaving with tonight even before you watch them slip out the back door.

After that night, you go back to avoiding any place you think Mary might be. So it’s with irritated exasperation that you see him collecting cover for Thursday 80′s Night. He’s sitting on a stool, legs splayed wide open—with absolutely no shame that there’s a giant hole on the inside of his one thigh—his signature leer on full display.

You’re this close to suggesting to your friends that you just ditch theme night and go sing karaoke at the Chinese restaurant that turns into a club after 10pm, but then Mary sees you. He grins and waves you forward. You try to shake your head, but your friends see, and the group breaks free of the line.

A few people still waiting whine, but Mary just shrugs and taps his pen on the clipboard. “They’re on the list, guys.”

With exclamations of “Cool, dude” and “Thanks, man”, your friends fork over the $20 to Mary. When you try to hand yours over too, Mary just shakes his head.

“Gelflings don’t pay.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap.

Mary looks a bit taken aback, but nods. “Yeah, ok.”

Again, you hold your money out, but he shakes his head again.

“Nah, you’re all set.

You narrow your eyes at him. “But I want to pay.”

“Buy your friends a round or something.” He gives you a wolfish smile. “Buy me a round.”

You slam the bill down on the stool between his legs, and he only flinches a little. He looks up and squints at you.

"Uh … have I done something to you?”

Inching closer, you get right up in his face. His eyes drop down to your lips before flicking back up.

“You’ve done nothing to me, Mary Goore. Nothing at all.”

For once he has no witty rejoinder, and you don’t bump into anything as you make your way inside.

Life gets a little busy, and before you know it, you realize it’s been two weeks since you’ve been out and about for real anywhere. You send out a text to the group chat, and soon there are plans to see some up-in-coming band at the bowling alley venue.

When you get there, you’re resigned to your fate when you see Mary holding court in the corner. His jeans are more holy than ripped, but you can definitely see his boxers peeking through. He’s in a modified sleeveless tee and his vest. The table next to his group is littered with empty pint glasses and beer bottles.

You look away before he has a chance to catch your gaze. It’s not like you can hide your presence, but you certainly don’t have to encourage him.

The group of you manage to snag a table close enough to the stage that’s being constructed over the lanes, and you put in an order for a round of beers. You sense him even before your friends do a double take at who’s behind you. Sighing, you twist around in your seat.

“What.”

Something you can’t pinpoint flickers across his face. He shrugs.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round.”

“Well, I’m not a grifter. I got shit to do.”

His face falls.

Your friends are watching this exchange like it’s a tennis match.

“I have something for you.”

Before you can even say anything, he’s walking back to his corner and rummaging through his leather jacket. He comes back over and starts searching your face—or at least that’s what you assume he’s doing. Satisfied with what he sees, he nods, then unfurls his palm. In it is a jeweled stud that’s eerily close to the color of your eyes.

“I noticed you were pieced,” he says as he offers forth the earring.

Game. Set. Match.

“I—”

When you make no movement to take it, Mary gently places the stud on the table in front of you.

“Ok,” he says and walks away. You only watch him for a moment before turning back to your table and picking up the stud.

One of your friends gapes at you.

“Did Mary Goore just penguin you?”

You look up sharply. “What? No. Shut up.”

It doesn’t stop there.

When Mary sees the stud in one of your holes—after you sanitized the fuck out of it—he starts giving you tokens. A bejeweled pin for your coat lapel. A subtle bracelet chain. A scuffed silver ring with a onyx inlay. A mother-of-pearl button to replace one you lost on your jacket.

A new one every time he sees you wearing the last one.

You have no idea where he’s getting them. They obviously aren’t new, and you doubt he’s trolling the pawn shops. Each time, he merely comes over, presents his offering, then leaves.

Some part of you realizes you’ve accepted his pitched woo when you get him a band pin from the local secondhand record shop. You know he usually works the door at the Irish pub on Friday nights, so you make it one of your stops. If he sees you in line, he certainly doesn’t try to wave you in again—but when your turn comes up again, you can see a smile start to break out on his face before he schools it.

“ID, please. Cover is $10 before 9 o’clock. No exceptions.” He smirks.

You mock gasp at him. “Highway robbery. I don’t even expect to pay that much on drinks.”

“Like you need to pay for your own drinks, beautiful.” His eyes take all of you in.

“Is that flattery, Goore?” you say leaning into his space.

His shrug says “maybe,” but his hooded eyes say “absolutely.”

Eyes still trained on his, you fish out two crisp fives while stealthily palming the pin. He cups his free hand out, and you place the bills in it, then rest the pin on top. Mary’s eyes zero in on the thing that’s not like the other, and you take the opportunity to skedaddle into the pub—two can play at the gift and run game.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and you’re bumming around in your apartment in a ratty tee and shorts when the buzzer makes its god awful noise. You’re a little wary because your other roommates are out, and you’re not expecting company.

You press the intercom. “Yes …?”

Feedback and a garbled male voice come through.

“Uh. This is Mary Goore. I’m here for …” he trails off, and you wonder if at any point you told Mary your name.

“Hey, dude,” you say.

“Oh. Is that you, um …”

You smile.

“Your gelfling? Yeah.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. Can I … come up?”

You look down at yourself, and then at the detritus in the living room from 5 people.

“Or you could come down …?” he crackles.

“Gimmie 10,” you say.

Twenty minutes later you’re out the door, and you find Mary leaning against your building, thumbs hooked in his jeans. It’s a dreary day, so his parasol is nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” you say, and Mary opens his eyes. You’re in a comic book t-shirt and your denim shorts, and his eyes travel over you.

“Can I show you something?”

“Sure—” you start, then add, “—within reason.”

He nods. “Yeah. C’mon.”

The two of you start walking, you letting Mary take the lead.

After a block in silence, he says, “Thanks for the pin.”

You look over at him. “Thanks, uh … for the everything.”

He grins. “They look great on you.”

You walk a few more blocks, Mary taking you to a part of town that’s still close to the grid, but far enough that the houses are spaced apart. When he leads you to the back of a 3-story Victorian, you hesitate as he slides through the gate.

“What?”

“Is this the part of my life where I end up in pieces in a ditch?”

Mary rolls his eyes. He points to what looks like a back door.

“My door is here.”

Still wary, you follow after him as he unlocks the door and heads down a set of concrete stairs. You peer down at him.

“Are you sure this isn’t your murder basement?”

He turns to look up at you, his face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not all of us can afford nice, sunny apartments in high rises. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Sorry,” you say, even if you’re not 100% convinced.

You make your way down the steps and into the apartment. It’s actually not the lair you thought it would be. There are support beams throughout, but the paint is cheery and the furniture looks like your grandma got loose. Black clothes are draped everywhere, and there’s an old pizza box on the coffee table—but otherwise Mary’s place isn’t the shitshow you thought it would be.

“The lady’s mom died down here,” he says as he drops his keys on the kitchen counter. “I got it at a steal. As long as I pay rent and don’t blast music past 10pm, she could really give a fuck.”

“Is this what you …?”

He smiles at you, almost shyly. “No. C’mere.” He opens a door, and your interest propels your forward.

It’s Mary’s bedroom. Black cotton sheets are hung all around the room, and what look like back silk sheets—ripped at the corners—are stretched over a queen mattress laid on the floor.

“I’m not allowed to paint,” he says when he sees your line of sight. “And she got rid of the bed for obvious reasons.”

Your gaze comes down to the mahogany dressers. They’re covered in … costume jewelry? You approach one and are fascinated by all the baubles on it. There’s also a stack of polaroids. You pick them up to shuffle through. Most of them are portraits of what you assume are Mary’s conquests—though there are few … less than tasteful nudes.

You squint up at him. “I don’t understand, Mary. What am I supposed to be seeing? Some dead woman’s costume jewelry and bedroom set? Your porn collection?”

“Sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I forgot about those.”

He comes over to take them from you. “I usually keep them here …” He opens the top drawer of the dresser, and you see that it’s full of lingerie.

You back away. “What the fuck is this? Am I here to pose for you or some shit?”

“What? Wait, no! That’s not—” Marys rubs his face in his hands. “Wait, lemme start over.”

Even though you’re dubious, you let Mary take your hands in his.

“Yeah, this place has strong grandma energy … but everything else is me. I brought you here because …” He sighs. “I like to look at the jewelry and I like to wear the lingerie. People, too. I like pretty things, ok? I like to collect them.”

You look back over at the hoard on his dresser.

“So you like … go to estate sales or something?”

You try to imagine Mary in his studs and ripped clothes—fake blood dripping down his face—at some fancy yard sale.

He grins at you.

“You have no idea what my day job is, do you?”

“It’s not making breakfast for your conquests?”

Mary laughs.

“Jesus, no. They want me to stick around as much as I want to stick around. No. I’m a grave digger. Well, I’m kinda a grave digger. Blah blah blah … long, boring story: because of union rules I can’t officially be a grave digger—so I’m paid under the table.”

You slap your hands to your mouth. “OH MY GOD. You’re a grave robber. OH MY GOD YOU’RE A GRAVE ROBBER. Did you?” Your hand flies to the stud in your ear. “ IS THIS?! ”

Mary chuckles at you, then shrugs.

“Yeah, ok. Maybe. But it’s not like they can take it with them—and it turns out that under the table doesn’t come with benefits.”

“Oh my god—is this where the mausoleum rumor came from?”

Mary again takes your hands and draws you closer to him.

“That’s actually not far from the truth. It’s a nice, quiet place. The stone’s a little cold, but no one bothers you there. We should go sometime.”

You look around his room again.

“But … I guess I thought you lived …. This is nice, Mary. Why wouldn’t you want to take people here? Why did you sleep on my couch that one time?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a place to sleep, isn’t it? A cheap, furnished basement.”

You stare at him.

“Why me? Why show me?”

He sighs, air punching forcefully out his nose.

“I dunno. Just a feeling. You ever just. Vibe with someone?” He ghosts a finger down the side of your cheek. “And I like pretty things.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

You stare at him. Hard. “I don’t like to share.”

He grins at you with too many teeth.

“If I collect you, I want you to be mine.” He crowds into you. “Will you be my Pretty Thing?”

You smile back at him before you’re leaning forward to press your lips into his.

#mary goore #my writing #original content #sfw

88 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 4 years

Text

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

-----

The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it.

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors.

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.”

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed.

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.”

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger.

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted.

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.”

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made.

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role.

“Yes, you, sweetheart.”

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too.

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not.

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients.

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside.

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered.

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper.

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some.

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction.

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered.

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug.

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed.

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.”

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards.

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused.

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously.

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before.

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly.

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her.

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.”

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé.

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute.

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.”

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm.

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them.

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.”

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared.

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class.

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury.

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng.

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.”

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.”

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.”

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.”

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare.

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting.

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted.

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé.

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading.

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent.

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is.

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly.

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her.

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.”

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation.

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy.

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head.

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed.

“If I find the kid…”

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…”

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.”

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came.

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images.

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…”

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.”

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.”

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

#batman #arranged marriage AU #maribat #maridami #marinette dupain cheng #maribat au #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #damienette #lady shiva #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous lb #ladybug

138 notes · View notes

mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Last Laugh (3 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian sent a message to Jon then pocketed his phone as he came into Bruce’s study. “Father.”

“Hello, Damian. How was work?” his father asked, looking up from his laptop.

“It would have been better if Jonathan would stop allowing himself to be distracted by the dogs,” Damian answered, sitting down in a chair in front of the desk.

“Isn’t it his job to care for the dogs?”

“Not when we’re supposed to be going over the finances.”

Bruce nodded and turned back to his laptop.

“Do you know if Alfred has already begun preparing for dinner?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“If he hasn’t then I think Richard and I are going to head back to Somerset early.”

He looked up again with a frown.

Before he could respond, though, Damian continued, “I know you wanted us to stay here until at least after the funeral, but the furor has died down some and with Richard returning to patrol, it would be easier for us both to be able to head back to the Perch instead of the Cave once the night is over. I think seeing his friends around the neighborhood will also help get his mind off… everything.”

Bruce didn’t react for a moment, then he closed his laptop and clasped his hands on top of it. His gaze met Damian’s as he said, “I don’t think Dick should return to patrol.”

Damian frowned. “You want to extend his punishment? He’s already been on the bench for a month. I think that’s a fair amount of time.”

“I don’t mean he should stay on the bench. I meant Robin should be taken off the roster altogether.”

Damian was immediately on his feet, leaning over the desk. “I know he shouldn’t have gone after Joker -”

“It’s not just that. Dick… He never should have been brought into this life. He’s not like us and he was too young.”

“I was younger than him when I started as Batkid,” Damian snapped.

“You were raised by assassins. He had a normal life before you involved him. He deserves a normal life,” Bruce said, voice growing tight. “I know you wanted to help him, but this isn’t the way.”

Damian opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a deep breath as he sat back down with closed eyes, visualizing katas until his temper waned. Once he was calm, he opened them again. “This is what Richard needs.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“How is he any different than the rest of us?”

“You were raised by assassins,” Bruce repeated. “As was Cass. Duke was in a gang. Tim raised himself in that damn empty mansion and spent years trailing after us through Gotham’s streets with nothing but a camera. And Jason lived on those streets. Dick might not have had a typical childhood, but he had a happy one. He grew up with an entirely different mentality than us. You saw how he looked when he went after Joker.”

Damian had. He’d forced his father to show him the footage from both Batman’s cowl and Robin’s mask. The pride he’d felt at seeing the clown laid low by gashes and electrical burns from his apprentice’s feathers and escrima sticks respectively was dulled by the rage that simmered off the boy, and beneath that the utter devastation that fed it.

It reminded him far too much of the boy he’d rescued from Gotham Juvenile Detention. The boy who Damian had thought had been tempered away with Zucco’s arrest and Robin’s training.

He wasn’t sure if he had been, but Jason’s death had broken him anew or if Dick had simply never healed in the first place.

And he didn’t know which was worse.

“He doesn’t belong in this life, Damian.”

“I understand,” he said, knowing what his father wasn’t saying.

This life will ruin him.

He leaned back in the chair, running his hand down his face. “I do, but Robin helped him last time.”

Didn’t it?

“Damian,” his father said, meeting his eyes. “I thought the same for all of you, but I was wrong. I-I lost Jason. I lost you. Stephanie nearly lost her life and Bette all at once. We might have gotten lucky with you and the girls, but Jason’s gone and there’s no getting him back. I should have put my foot down with Barbara all those years ago and I will have to live with the consequences of that decision my entire life. Don’t make the same mistake with Dick.”

“Father, what happened to us wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more to protect you, and I shouldn’t have let you out.” Damian opened his mouth to argue, but Bruce held up his hand. “I’ve made my decision. No more Batkid. Not again. I know it isn’t my call what you do with Dick, but I want you to really consider if this is what is best for him.”

Damian stared down at his lap, only looking up when he made his decision. “We can’t just exclude him. He’ll think it’s a punishment or a rejection.”

“He’ll understand in time.”

Damian took a deep breath and let it out. “He won’t, which is why I’m going to stop being Flamebird for the time.”

Bruce frowned and leaned forward. “You…”

“I’ll need some time to organize my open cases. There are some I know I can quickly close or trust Jonathan to handle on his own, but I’ll need to speak with Cassandra, Duke, or Timothy to cover the rest. After that… Richard is my responsibility. He needs to be my main focus. If the vigilante life is not what’s best for him, then I will put it aside.”

“Are you sure about this? I know how important Flamebird is to you.”

Damian nodded and stood. “I cannot expect Richard to put aside the suit while not doing so myself. It won’t be forever, likely for either of us, but I can take some time away to focus on Richard. It might do us both some good.” His lips twitched up as he added, “Perhaps we’ll even spend time at a certain monastery in the Himalayas. It certainly did us two some good, maybe Richard could benefit from the monks’ teachings as well.”

Bruce studied him for a moment, then came around the desk and set his hands on Damian’s shoulders. “I… I know I wasn’t as supportive of your decision to take him in as I should have been, -”

“You tried to take him from me when you got back,” Damian snorted.

“- but I was wrong. I’m proud of how you’re handling this. If this is what you want to do, then I’ll support you.”

He relaxed. “Thank you, Father.”

The two stayed where they were a few moments, then Damian pulled away.

“I should go speak to Richard.”

He left with a nod from his father. He started towards the bedrooms, then changed his mind and headed for the kitchen. This sounded like a good excuse for some of Alfred’s cookies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some behind the scenes: I was having a hard time writing about Dick overhearing Bruce and Damian's conversation so after a few days of block I decided to try writing it from Damian's perspective instead before going back to edit it into Dick's perspective. It was a lot easier after that. I actually hadn't planned to post Damian's POV, but considering I got quite a few comments bad-mouthing the Bats on Family Weekend and knew I'd get some on this too, I figured it was only fair to give a peek at their side of the story.

Little Easter Egg: The monastery Damian mentioned at the end is the one he attends in between the Batman vs. Robin and Batman: Bad Blood movies. He also attended it in this universe, but at a different point in his life and for different reasons.

Bette is not Bette Kane, though her name is a reference to her.

#batfam #reverse robins #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #batkid and robin

3 notes · View notes

cathygeha · 4 years

Photo

REVIEW

The Vineyard at Painted Moon by Susan Mallery

Emotion laden, deeply moving, intensely poignant, well crafted – this story grabbed me and didn’t let me go till I finished at 3am. I felt so much and at times wanted to jump into the pages to “fix” things knowing that the author would bring things right for at least some of the characters by the end of the book…or at least I hope she would! This is a story of love, loss, growth, endurance, values, goals and family. It is a keeper and one I would reread in the future.

What I liked:

* Mackenzie: dedicated, focused, interesting. She has been stymied for a while and may need to move on from the safe haven she has lived within for over a decade and a half. She has a rough time of it but comes through rather brilliantly in the end.

* Catherine: sister-in-law to Mackenzie, loving, kind, in tune with the earth, grounded, warm, creative…really liked her.

* Stephanie: sister-in-law to Mackenzie, divorced, mother of two teens, stuck in a rut and trying to move forward but it isn’t easy for her to do so. She is Mackenzie’s best friend and has been since college.

* Bruno: wealthy, attractive, investor, wine distributor, and intriguing. He is warm, a good friend, caring, communicates brilliantly and is perfect for the woman he ends up with.

* Kyle: a good father, professional, a bit selfish…divorced from Stephanie and father of her children

* Rhys: not a bad guy, married to Mackenzie, wants what is best for both of them, a bit heavy handed at times and sometimes rather clueless…and also selfish, perhaps.

* Georgio: a good man, loving, kind, generous, and perfect for the right woman – the boyfriend of Barbara (mother-in-law of Mackenzie)

* The close relationships that were friendly, warm, and caring.

* That there was growth in a number of characters.

* The dynamics between various individuals and groups.

* The way verbalization of feelings, thoughts, and insight into the characters

* Learning a bit more about the winemaking business.

* The setting – love that area of the world!

* All of it really except…

What I didn’t like:

* Barbara: I won’t give details but if you read the book you will probably feel the same

* Lori: daughter of Barbara and quite a bit like her, I fear.

* The sadness I felt as I empathized with Mackenzie.

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Definitely

Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequen (HQN) for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

MacKenzie Dienes's life isn't perfect, but it's as close as she could ever hope to get. Her marriage to Rhys, her best friend's brother, is more friendship than true love. But passion is highly overrated, right? And she loves her job as the winemaker at Bel Apres, her in-laws' vineyard. So what if it's a family business and, even after decades of marriage and incredible professional success, she's still barred from the family business meetings? It's all enough...until one last night spent together leads to an incredibly honest—and painful—conversation. Rhys suggests that they divorce. They haven't had a marriage in a long time and, while he wants her to keep her job at Bel Apres, he doesn't think they should be married any longer. Shocked, MacKenzie reels at the prospect of losing the only family she's ever really known...even though she knows deep in her heart that Rhys is right.

But when MacKenzie discovers she's pregnant, walking away to begin a new life isn't so easy. She never could have anticipated the changes it would bring to the relationships she cherishes most: her relationship with Barbara, her mother-in-law and partner at Bel Apres, Stephanie, her sister-in-law and best friend, and Bel Apres, the company she's worked so hard to put on the map.

MacKenzie has always dreamed of creating a vineyard of her own, a chance to leave a legacy for her unborn child. So when the opportunity arises, she jumps at it and builds the Vineyard at Painted Moon. But following her dreams will come at a high price—one that MacKenzie isn't so sure she's willing to pay…

EXTRACT

Chapter One

“Not that what you’re wearing isn’t great, but the party starts in an hour.”

Mackenzie Dienes looked up from the grapevine she’d been studying, her mind still on the tight clusters of small, hard grapes that would, come late September, be ripe and sweet and ready for harvest. Between now and then, she would monitor their progress, willing them to greatness and protecting them from danger, be it mold, weather or hungry deer.

She blinked at the man standing in front of her, tall and familiar, with an easy smile and broad, capable shoulders.

“Party?” she asked, letting her thoughts of the vineyards go and remembering that, yes, indeed, it was the evening of the annual Solstice Party, hosted by the Barcellona family. As she was a Barcellona, by marriage if not by name, she would be expected to attend.

Wanted to attend, she reminded herself. It was always a good time, and Stephanie, her sister-in-law, worked hard to make it a perfect night.

“The party,” she repeated, her voice slightly more panicked this time, then glanced down at herself. “Crap. What time is it?”

Rhys, her husband, shook his head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you? We have an hour. You’ll be fine.”

She pulled off her gloves and shoved them into the left front pocket of her coveralls, then stepped behind Rhys and gave him a little push toward the flatbed truck he’d driven out to the west vineyards.

“You say that because all you have to do is shower and get dressed. I have to do the girl thing.”

“Which takes you maybe ten minutes.” He put his arm around her as they hurried toward the truck. “Happy with the grapes?”

“I think so,” she said, glancing toward the healthy vines growing on either side of them. “We might have to do some thinning in a couple of weeks, but so far, so good.”

As they slid onto the bench seat of the old truck, he glanced at her. She smiled, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance he would call her out on her thinning statement. He was, after all, the vineyard manager. Technically all the decisions about the vineyard were made by him with her input, but not her instruction. As winemaker, she managed the grapes from the moment they were picked until the wine was bottled.

But at Bel Après, areas of responsibility often overlapped. Theirs was a large, boisterous family in which everyone had opinions. Not that Mackenzie listened to a lot of other ideas when it came to her wines, although as Rhys often pointed out, she was very free offering hers when it came to his work.

He drove along the dirt path that circled the vineyard, stopping by her truck. She slid into the cab, then followed him back to the family compound. The main road leading into Walla Walla was thick with tourists who wanted to enjoy the longest day of the year. She merged into the slow-moving traffic, doing her best to keep from glancing at the clock on the truck’s dashboard as she inched along.

Vineyards stretched out on either side of the road, flat on the left and rising toward the hills on the right. Bright green leaves topped sturdy trunks that had been carefully trained to grow exactly as she wanted them to. The rows were long and neat, and the spaces between them were filled with native grasses that held in moisture and protected the roots from the heat.

Looking at her healthy crop kept her mind off the fact that she and Rhys were going to be desperately late.

Twenty minutes later, she followed him off the highway onto a less crowded secondary road—a back way home. Five minutes after that, they parked the trucks by the processing buildings behind the big tasting room. Rhys had already claimed one of the golf carts the family used to get around. She slid in next to him and they took off toward the center of the property.

Bel Après Winery and the surrounding land had been in the Barcellona family for nearly sixty years. Rhys and his siblings were third-generation. The original main house had been updated several times. When Rhys and Mackenzie had married, Barbara, Rhys’s mother, had suggested they build themselves a house close to hers, rather than commute from town. Eager to stay in the good graces of her new mother-in-law, Mackenzie had agreed.

A large two-story home had been built. Barbara and Mackenzie had decorated every room, the act of choosing everything from light fixtures to doorknobs cementing their affection for each other.

A few years later, Stephanie, the second of Barbara’s four children, had gotten a divorce and moved back home with her two kids, requiring another house to be constructed. When the youngest of the three girls had married, the last house had been added. Only Lori, the middle daughter, still lived in the original home.

All four houses faced a huge central courtyard. Mexican pavers were shaded by vine-covered pergolas. The extended family used the space for big dinners and as a kids’ play area. If one of the women baked cookies, a cookie flag was hung out the front door, inviting anyone to stop by. At Christmas, a large tree was brought in from Wishing Tree, and for the annual Summer Solstice Party, dozens of long tables were brought in to seat the two hundred or so guests.

Rhys swung the golf cart behind the large main house, circling counterclockwise. Normally he would cut across the courtyard, but with all the party preparations, he had to go the long way. He pulled up at the rear entrance to their house and they dashed inside.

Mackenzie paused to unlace her boots and left them in the mudroom. Rhys did the same. They raced up the stairs together, separating at the landing to head to their individual en suite bedrooms.

Once in her bathroom, she started the shower. Thankfully, she’d already picked out the dress she would wear. She raced through a shower. After she dried off, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dug out the scented body lotion Rhys had given her a couple of years ago. Why anyone would want to smell like coconut and vanilla was beyond her, but he liked it.

She walked into the large closet and opened her underwear drawer. To the right were all the sensible bikini panties she usually wore—to the left were the fancier ones for special occasions. She chose a black pair and slipped them on, then went to the second drawer and looked for the matching push-up bra. When it and the pads were in place and doing the best they could with her modest curves, she pulled on a robe and returned to the bathroom.

After plugging in her hot rollers, it took her only a few minutes to apply eyeliner and mascara. She was flushed from the day working outside, so she didn’t bother with any other makeup.

Her hair took a lot longer. First she had to dry the dark red shoulder-length waves, then she had to curl them. While the rollers were in place, she searched for a pair of black high-heel sandals that wouldn’t leave her crippled by the end of the night.

Those found, she opened her small jewelry box and pulled out her wedding set, sliding both the engagement ring and the wedding band into place on her left hand. Diamond stud earrings followed. She’d barely stepped into her sleeveless black dress when Rhys walked into the closet, fully dressed in black slacks and a dark gray shirt.

She sighed when she saw him. “See. You have it so much easier than me.”

“Yes, but in the end, you’re more beautiful. That should be worth something.”

“I’d rather have the extra time.”

She turned, presenting him with her back. He pulled up the zipper, then bent to collect her shoes. They retreated to her bathroom and together began removing the curlers.

“We’re late,” Mackenzie said, catching sight of his watch. “Your mom is going to be all snippy.”

“She’ll be too busy welcoming her guests.” The last of the curlers was flung onto the counter. Mackenzie fluffed her hair, then pointed to the bedroom.

“Retreat,” she said, reaching for the can of hair spray.

Rhys ducked to safety. She sprayed the curls into submission before running into the bedroom to escape the death cloud. Rhys was on the bench at the foot of the large bed. She sat next to him and quickly put on her shoes.

“Done,” she said, pausing to reacquaint herself with the seldom-used skill of walking in heels.

She grabbed her husband’s wrist. “Seven fifteen. Barbara’s going to kill us.”

“She’s not. I’m her only son and you’re just plain her favorite.”

“We weren’t ready exactly at seven. I can already hear the death-march music in my head. I want to be buried on Red Mountain.”

Rhys chuckled as he led the way downstairs. “In the vineyard? I’m not sure your decaying body is going to be considered organic.”

“Are you saying I’m toxic?” she asked with a laugh as they walked toward the front door.

“I’m saying you’re wonderful and I’d like us to have a good night.”

There was something in his tone, she thought, meeting his gaze. She’d known this man her entire adult life. They’d met over Christmas her freshman year of college. Her roommate, his sister Stephanie, had dragged Mackenzie home to meet the family. Grateful not to have to spend the holiday by herself, Mackenzie had gone willingly and had quickly found herself falling not only for her best friend’s hunky older brother but for the entire Barcellona family and the vineyards they owned. Barbara had been like a surrogate mother, and the vineyards, well, they had been just as magical as Rhys’s sexy kisses.

Now she studied her husband’s expression, seeing the hint of sadness lurking behind his easy smile. She saw it because she hid the same emotion deep inside herself. The days of stealing away for sexy kisses were long gone. There were no lingering looks, no intimacy. They had a routine and a life, but she was less sure about them still having a marriage.

“I’d like that, too,” she murmured, knowing he wasn’t asking them not to fight. They never did. Harsh words required a level of involvement they simply didn’t have anymore.

“Then let’s make that happen,” he said lightly, taking her hand in his and opening the front door.

AUTHOR BIO

#1 NYT bestselling author Susan Mallery writes heartwarming, humorous novels about the relationships that define our lives―family, friendship, romance. She's known for putting nuanced characters in emotional situations that surprise readers to laughter. Beloved by millions, her books have been translated into 28 languages. Susan lives in Washington with her husband, two cats, and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur. Visit her at SusanMallery.com.

Social Links:

Website: https://susanmallery.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanMallery

Twitter: https://twitter.com/susanmallery

Instagram: https://instagram.com/susanmallery

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/susanmallery/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/susanmallery

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/susan-mallery

Mailing List: https://susanmallery.com/join-mailing-list.php

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1335912797/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vamf_tkin_p1_i6

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-vineyard-at-painted-moon-susan-mallery/1136918902?ean=9781335912794

Bookshop: https://bookshop.org/books/the-vineyard-at-painted-moon-9781335912794/9781335912794

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335912794

Libro.fm: https://libro.fm/audiobooks/9781488210488

Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Vineyard-Painted-Moon/Susan-Mallery/Q840696538?id=7843731390040

Target: https://www.target.com/p/the-vineyard-at-painted-moon-by-susan-mallery-hardcover/-/A-80128583

Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/The-Vineyard-at-Painted-Moon-Hardcover/508623296

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-vineyard-at-painted-moon

AppleBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-vineyard-at-painted-moon/id1509949550

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Susan_Mallery_The_Vineyard_at_Painted_Moon?id=aL3eDwAAQBAJ

Q and A with Susan Mallery on The Vineyard at Painted Moon

1. Where did inspiration for the book come from?

The Vineyard at Painted Moon was really inspired by the gorgeous wine country of Washington State. My readers have told me that they love when my books have wish-you-were-there settings, like the tulip farms in Secrets of the Tulip Sisters and the monastery-turned-mansion of The Summer of Sunshine and Margot. So I knew I wanted to set my next hardcover somewhere that would give readers a beautiful, scenic escape—and this was well before I knew the book would come out during a pandemic, when we’re all trapped at home a lot more than usual.

So I started daydreaming about beautiful settings, and I landed on Washington wine country. Breathtaking. Seriously, look it up.

Every evening before dinner, Mr. Mallery and I have a glass of wine together and tell one another about our day. This daily ritual makes us feel close and connected even when life gets hectic, and it has led us to learn more about how wine is made. I thought it could be really interesting to write about a female winemaker, because this is still very much a male-dominated field. I asked myself, “What is the worst thing that could happen to a winemaker?”

“What if,” I thought, “she lost the land she loved?”

And not because of fire or natural disaster, but because of an emotional earthquake—Mackenzie Dienes is the winemaker at a family winery. But it’s her husband’s family. . . and their marriage is in trouble. She could stay if she’s willing to be nothing more than an employee for the rest of her life. But if she wants something more, something of her own, she’ll have to be brave.

The Vineyard at Painted Moon is the story of Mackenzie’s search for happiness and self-fulfillment after divorce. With some pretty spectacular scenery thrown in. Oh, and wine. Lots and lots of wine.

2. What are your favourite scenes? Why?

This is a tricky question for me to answer without spoilers, because my favorite scenes are the emotional turning points of the story. I don’t really want to reveal them here, as I think readers will want to experience them on their own. I will answer, but it’s going to be vague and somewhat frustrating. Teasers, rather than spoilers.

I love the scene where Mackenzie and Rhys realize that their marriage is over. (That doesn’t count as a spoiler, since it’s revealed on the back cover of the book.) The way they come to the realization and move through the scene is completely unexpected and unlike any breakup scene I’ve ever written—or read, for that matter. It’s heartbreaking and poignant and beautiful and even a little funny. If you have a heart, it’ll make you cry. I think readers are going to fall in love with Rhys even as Mackenzie is accepting that she’s not in love with him anymore.

One of my other favorite scenes is one that I’m not sure will stand out as much in readers’ minds. It’s a scene in which Mackenzie finds out just how highly she is esteemed by her colleagues in the wine world. She never knew. She never thought of working anywhere but the family winery—she was just so grateful to have a family through her husband, since she had none of her own. In this scene, nothing really changes but her perception—of herself, and of how people perceive her—but perception is reality. Suddenly, Mackenzie realizes that she has options. She can dare to dream.

And that changes everything.

3. What was the hardest scene to write and why?

At the risk of repeating myself, that scene in which Mackenzie and Rhys finally acknowledge that their marriage is over was certainly one of the hardest to write. The emotional intricacies of the situation were incredibly nuanced. I had to get it exactly right. Rhys is not a point-of-view character, so the whole scene is told from Mackenzie’s perspective, but I wanted the reader to understand and empathize with Rhys, as well. It’s a deeply emotional scene, and I’m very curious to see how readers will respond to it.

4. Do you have advice for me wanting to write in the same genre?

Never give up. There are a lot of very talented writers who will never be published simply because they gave up trying. You never know if the next book will be the one. You have to want it enough to keep going.

5. Where did the idea for the title come from? It’s so original.

Thank you! I almost never come up with the titles for my own books. My file names are just the first name of the main character, so the working title on this book was Mackenzie. When it’s time to title the book, the whole team makes suggestions—my editor, agent, assistant, the marketing department. It’s trickier now than it’s ever been because I’ve written a lot of books, and we don’t want the titles to be too similar. And yet they have to appeal to the same audience.

All that said, I was the one to suggest The Vineyard at Painted Moon. I thought it would be appropriate to feature the beautiful setting in the title, since it plays such an important role in the book. I’m glad you like it!

6. Who is your favorite character and why?

I love Stephanie and Four, Rhys’s sisters and Mackenzie’s best friends. They’re the kind of friend that every woman should have—and that every woman should be. Close female friendships are a hallmark of my books. In The Vineyard at Painted Moon, the friendships were especially complex because they were also sisters-in-law. . . soon to be exes. But at the end of the day, this truly is Mackenzie's story, so she would be the favorite.

7. What is your favorite book genre to read?

For the most part, I read what I write—women’s fiction and romance. I’m not into thrillers or anything that involves violence and murder. I’m much more interested in emotional drama, in the inherent conflict between people who want different things.

#Susan Mallery #Harlequin #HQN #NetGalley #Fiction #Romance #Women's Fiction #Wine #Divorce #Family

1 note · View note

elisaphoenix13 · 5 years

Text

Protecting Midtown

"Is there a new Avenger?"

Peter pauses at the top of a sit-up and frowns. "I don't think so. Why?"

"There was some guy in a black suit that saved you from that robot! Don't you remember?! The battle was on the news!"

A sharp laugh escapes from Peter as he continues his sit-ups. "First of all the suit is dark blue. Second, that was Mom."

Ned's eyes widen. "Doctor Strange has a suit? I thought he had robes and that cape."

Peter finishes and sits up fully. "Cloak. Dad made him a suit. It's nano technology like his and mine. The other Avengers didn't know it was Mom and thought it was a rogue suit."

"I just want to thank you for being my friend and allowing me to live vicariously through you." Ned helps Peter to his feet when he stands up.

"You come to the Tower almost every weekend." The vigilante replies dryly.

"I was talking about times that I can't be there. Like missions."

"I would rate getting my throat crushed a 0/10. Would not-"

The ground trembles beneath them and both teens brace themselves as other students scream. The hairs on Peter's arms stand on end and he looks up when the sound of cracking fills the gym. A patch of ceiling above a group of students begins to crumble and Peter races over and catches it just as it falls. His classmates stare at him in surprise and wonderment as he grunts under the weight and he throw the cement to the side.

"Everyone behind the bleachers!"

The gym teacher directs the frightened students just as a hole is blown through the wall and the concrete from the blast flies into Peter's chest and knocks him backwards. He slides against the floor, groans when his head hits the bleachers, and Ned grabs him and drags him to safety.

"Peter! Are you okay?!"

Peter coughs. "I'm good. Did anything come in?"

Ned shakes his head and whispers. "Are you gonna suit up?"

That was the million dollar question wasn't it? He didn't want to if he didn't have to, he was already getting curious looks from his classmates after catching the ceiling. "Not if I don't have to."

Peter lifts his arm and presses a button on his bracelet and it starts flashing. It was his panic button. Hopefully his parents would be able to get to them before whatever was destroying the city decided to wreak havoc on the school. He'd play it by ear for now.

_______________

"Boss, I'm receiving an emergency signal from Spiderman. Some of the aliens are close to Midtown High and have already destroyed some of the gymnasium." FRIDAY pulls up an external video of the school and Peter's vitals on Tony's screen.

Tony curses. "Mama Bear-"

"I see it." Stephen lands next to him in his suit after wrapping an alien with his whip and throwing him toward Thor to deal with.

"Hey Capsicle. There's a situation at Peter's school."

"We got these guys. You two go help your kid."

Tony and Stephen immediately take off for the high school and Tony fires his repulsor at some aliens surrounding a giant hole. He could only assume it led to the gymnasium so he points Stephen to it and the sorcerer clears the way with a blast of magic before entering. He wraps his whip around an alien dangerously close to shooting the group of students, and tosses it back to Tony who he can hear fire repulsors at the flailing target.

Peter's vitals on Stephen's screen begin to drop and he looks through the students until he finds a couple of them hovering over a familiar body. The sorcerer conjures a shield around the group as he rushes to his son's side, and then one he recognizes as Ned moves aside to give the doctor room.

Even though blood was beginning to puddle around Peter's limp form and he was paling by the minute, Stephen would not freeze this time. He couldn't get Peter to the tower until Tony cleared the area because he had other people to worry about this time around. If he left now, his shield would fall and the students and their teacher would be vulnerable.

He hoped Peter's wounds weren't as bad as they looked.

"Ned, do you know what happened?"

To his credit, Ned didn't stammer. "He caught some of the ceiling, but I think what hurt him was the blast. He was fine until a couple of minutes ago."

"Victor."

He didn't even have to ask. His AI already scanning for injuries and showing internal bleeding as well as two broken ribs and a minor concussion. Magic would have to be used this time. Peter didn't have time to wait for Tony to kill the remaining aliens.

Stephen begins the healing process and occasionally looks up to watch for any foes that might have managed to slip by his boyfriend, but otherwise keeps his focus on Peter's wounds and keeping the shield around the students.

"Stephen, FRIDAY is showing me something I don't want to see." Nanites form a blade on Tony's hand and he cuts through a couple of enemies.

"I'm healing him right now. How many aliens?"

"I don't know. They're like cockroaches."

Peter jolts into a sitting position with a gasp when the sorcerer finishes healing him and Stephen immediately pushes him back down. The girl that had been on the boy's opposite side watching in silence takes off her sweater and places it under Peter's head. Likely MJ. She was supposed to come to the Tower this weekend with Ned.

"Keep him warm." Stephen whispers to his cloak, and Levi slips off his shoulders and covers Peter.

"Doctor Strange, will Peter be okay?" Ned asks with a little uncertainty in his voice.

Stephen nods and allows the boy to return to his original spot as he exits the shield.

"Mama Bear, be a dear and open a portal."

The sorcerer raises an eyebrow but does as the engineer asks and almost scoffs when Tony practically herds the last of the aliens into the portal. Typical Stark move.

"Figures that Parker would be lame enough to get hurt." Flash mutters.

What?

Surely this student wasn't stupid enough to insult Peter in front of one of his parents. Stephen turns to Flash as his armor disengages and glares icily at the cowering bully. Ned and MJ watch with open interest.

"Remind me how my son got hurt." The sorcerer says darkly.

"H-He was hit by the blast-"

"That only he could survive!" Stephen snaps. "Were you one he saved from the collapsing ceiling too?"

"How did he even do that?" Peter's teacher asks. "That would have weighed at least a couple tons!"

Stephen rubs his eyes as Tony joins him with his armor absent as well. Saving his classmates' lives was raising questions and they really couldn't come up with a lie to explain.

"Shit" Tony obviously came to the same conclusion he did. "FRIDAY...have Karen activate Protocol Peter Screwed The Pooch."

Ned snickers at the name and then immediately freezes when the Spiderman suit engages and covers Peter's unconscious body. The reaction was absolute silence. At least until the teen woke up again, and he must have been completely disoriented because he jumped to his feet after throwing Levi off, and then promptly groaned and keeled over.

"Ow. Ribs. Karen call Mom. He's gonna kill me."

A moment of silence passes and Stephen and Tony watch (both on the verge of laughing) as Peter freezes up. Karen probably told him a phone call wasn't necessary because Stephen was three feet away.

Sure enough, Spiderman glances to the right at his parents, and his eyes widen when he notices the gawking group of students. Things must have come back to Peter because he immediately turned on Tony and pointed at him.

"You put my suit on in front of my class?!"

"Pete. We couldn't lie about how you caught the ceiling."

Peter's gym teacher actually laughs. "This actually explains quite a bit."

MJ looks over at Flash. "How does it feel to know that Parker could have kicked your ass into next week?"

Flash for once in his life kept his mouth shut.

"Okay. Now that that whole ordeal is over with, can we trust you to keep his secret or do I need to get my lawyers?" Tony motions toward the group of students. "Mama Bear is pretty scary too."

Peter moans into his hands. "Oh my god." The teen yells out in surprise when Levi affectionately wraps around him.

"We'll keep his secret."

Peter halts his struggling. That sounded suspiciously like Flash. His other classmates voice their agreement and Tony smiles before smacking Stephen's shoulder.

"Great! Stephanie you can get rid of the shield now. The building won't fall on them."

"Right. Of course."

The shield around the students falls away into harmless sparks and Levi finally releases Peter to return to it's master's shoulders. When Peter finally returned his suit to his bracelet, he was swarmed by his class, and they were all talking so fast that the teen was almost overwhelmed. Ned eventually came to his rescue and pushed them all to a distance so that Peter could breathe again, with the very legitimate excuse that his senses were better than everyone else's.

He was also still suffering from broken ribs and that didn't escape Stephen's notice for very long. "Spiderling. I think it's best we take you home so you can let your ribs heal."

Tony looks at his phone. "School is dismissed anyway until repairs are made. The gym wasn't the only place hit but thankfully no one got hurt." After he sends a few quick texts, he pockets his phone and looks up at Ned and MJ. "Thanks for taking care of our kid until we got here. We'll see you this weekend."

Ned bounces on his heels. "Can we order Chinese?"

Peter groans. "Ned."

Tony laughs. "Sure thing kid." He throws an arm around Peter and they follow Stephen out of the school. "That was relatively painless."

"Tell that to my ribs."

Stephen barks out a laugh. "I think he was talking about your identity."

"Painless for him either way." Peter replies dully.

"This is payback for leaving me to tear the city apart while you ate dinner I made."

"That was Mom's fault. He's the one that forgot to call you."

Stephen stops and allows Levi to smack the back of Peter's head.

"Ow...dude...way to hit a man while he's down."

#ironstrange #supremefamily #ironstrange family #peter parker #ned leeds #tony stark #stephen strange #mama bear stephen strange

580 notes · View notes

ivesblosson · 5 years

Text

Bonding

Day 3 at @official-batfam-week : Injuries | Bonding During A Mission | No Capes/Civilian AU

Also on AO3

She groaned as she sat on the hard metal floor. The fluorescent light in her mask cast a strange aura around her face. Parts of her costume also shone in neon purple and the dim light was enough to let the others see her silhouette, especially since she was the only thing glowing in the darkness. “Great, now we are stuck here”, she mumbled for no one in specific. “Batman is going to be so pleased with us.”

The older boy couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s all your fault, blondie”, he grunted, pointlessly kicking the door that separated them from their freedom.

“My fault?”, Stephanie exclaimed raising up in a swift move. She rolled her eyes, despite knowing that Red Hood had no way of seeing it, and laughed. “He’s the one who locked us in here”, she yelled, pointing her gloved finger to the newest Robin, who was pacing around the old freezer trying to get a signal.

Damian stopped in the middle of a step, then turned back to stare at his partners with a death glare. “We would not have needed to hide if you hadn’t been so loud”, he said bitterly at the young girl.

“But I wouldn’t have yelped if he”, Steph gestured towards Jason, who tried to play it cool, casually leaning against a wall, “hadn’t poked me with a freaking gun!”

“I’m sorry you can’t take a joke”, he grunted, taking the pistol from it’s holster and flipping it in the air. “Just playing”, he said, flashing a devilish smile.

“You shouldn’t be playing with guns”, she replied, taking large steps in his direction and attempting to take the pistol from his hand.

“Relax, they are unloaded, see?”, he stated and fire against the ceiling. There was the noise of the trigger being flicked, but nothing came out of the barrel.

On the other side of small room, Damian cleared his throat, causing the others to drop their discussion to look at him. “In case you have forgotten, we are here hiding. If you keep yelling, you’ll blow our cover.”

“Fine”, Steph muttered, grumply sliding back to the floor. She pulled back the purple hood of her cape, letting her blond hair flow freely and rested her head against one of the many boxes laying in the floor.

Jason followed her example and also sat down, removing his red helmet and revealing his jet black hair with a white streak. “If I were you,” he said to Damian, “I would sit down. No use trying to find a signal. we are five floors below street level.”

“Sitting there isn’t going to help either”, the boy hissed.

“Suit yourself,” Jason replied with a shrug. What the brat did was the least of his worries.

“You know, we are lucky the freezer isn’t a funcional one…”, Stephanie commented, lost in her thoughts. “What do you think they kept in here? Dead bodies? Horse meat? Cocaine?”

In that moment Jason wished he had brought a flashlight with him, just so Steph could see the expression in his face. “Why would you keep cocaine in a freezer?”

“I don’t know. To keep it icy?”, she sighed. “Do I look like I do cocaine?”

“No, honestly, you look like a mushroom girl. Especially since you are fucking glowing.”

“Firstly, don’t say the f-word, there’s a kid in here--”

“I’m thirteen. I’m not a kid”, Damian shouted.

“Second, it’s called emergency lights. My suit has strategically placed glow sticks that I can activate when needed”, Steph explained.

“Call it what you want, they are ridiculous”, he pointed out.

She huffed. “At least I can see.”

“Yeah, and be seen by every criminal from Gotham to Metropolis.”

In silence she wondered if the idea was as stupid as he made it sound. She had been very proud of her invention, and the memory of how embarrassing the one time she accidently activated the neon lights in the middle of a stealth mission was still fresh in her mind. There’s no need for Jason to know about that, she thought. From the depths of the pockets on her cape, she took an old fidget spinner that glows neon green. She had bought it back in 2017, when everyone was playing with those and forgotten about it, luckly, she now had something to play while they waited for rescue.

Damian, finally giving up his useless task, sat cross legged near Stephanie. “I finished my analysis. I’ve concluded that there’s no exit. The best course of action is to sit and wait for Batman to realize we have been gone for too long and come looking for us.”

“Then we are going to be here forever. Bruce won’t even notice that three soldiers of his army have gone missing, he’ll just replace us. Especially since we ain’t exactly his favorites”, Jason grunted, thinking about how Bruce had quickly forgotten about him the time he died and how soon Tim had taken the mantle of Robin.

“Shut up, Todd, you don’t get to talk about my father like that”, Damian snapped. ��You are an ungrateful piece of shit.”

“And for what I should be grateful for, uh? All he did was get me killed.”

“Oh shut up, Jason. No one wants to hear you talk about Joker and that crowbar again”, Stephanie complained. Everyone had heard that story at least a hundred times. “Besides, you aren’t the only one left for dead”, she added, thinking about how she almost had met her own end in the hands of Black Mask.

Jason seemed to recall that too, as he murmured a half-hearted apology to her. Silence took hold of the freezer for what seemed a long time.

“It’s not his fault,” Damian whispered, making the others snap out of their thoughts.

“What did you say?”, Stephanie inquired.

“I said it’s not his fault the two of you got killed. We knew what we were signing up for. The dangers that came with the job. And we still chose to do it, so we can’t blame Batman for what happens to us, it was our choices. And actions have consequences.”

Jason chuckled once more. “Seriously? I was 12. I wasn’t old enough to make a life changing choice. He knew that, he took advantage of that to mold us into his image.”

“He has a point, though. No one made you go to Egypt and get blow up --”

“Ethiopia…”, Jason corrected.

“Whatever. And no one made me go after Black Mask alone.”

“And start a city wide gang war”, Damian added.

“Gezz, thank you, Damian, good to know I can count on you to keep reminding me of my worst mistakes.”

“Can we stop with the first name basis? We are in patrol.”

“Right, sorry, Robin”, she corrected. “You know what? No wonder no one likes you. You come in out of nowhere, tries to kill Ti-- the former Robin many times, disrespects Nightwing and think of yourself being so superior. And then when someone tries to defend you, you act like a asshole!”

“Bullshit”, Damian yells, standing up revolted. “I never disrespected Grayson.”

“Stop with the first name basis? We are in patrol”, Jason mocked, imitating Damian’s accent.

“And it’s not like they like you either”, the younger boy continued, his voice cracking. He fought to keep the tears from falling and tried to regain his composure. “You are a screw up”, he pointed to Stephanie, who was sitting playing with her spinner, “and you are a killer”, he angrily shouted at Jason, who was juggling with his guns. Neither of them seemed affected by Damian’s words. It was almost as if they had been hearing the same thing every single day and the words had lost their impact.

“Look who’s calling me a killer…”

“Yeah, and I may make mistakes, but at least I got friends”, the blonde said, thinking of Cass, Barbara and Tim. “Not that you would know what that means”, she added in a whisper.

“Shut up! Shut up!”, Damian screamed, slamming his fists against the freezer’s walls. Now he couldn’t hide the fact he was crying.

Slowly, Stephanie rose from the ground and walked towards him. Before he could react, she had him trapped in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that”, she said softly. She glanced back to Jason and mouthed for him to join them.

“Yeah, Robin, I’m really sorry”, Jason apologized joining the group hug.

They stayed that way, arms tangled together until Damian had stopped sobbing. He didn’t say anything, but the way his tiny arms clung tightly to Stephanie’s waist was enough to let her know he regretted the things he had said.

A loud pounding at the door startled them, making them pull away.

“That’s it, they found us”, Steph whispered, rushing to get her mask in place.

Jason nodded, picking his helmet from the floor and putting it back on. He stood near the door, guns pointed at the entrance. “Don’t worry, those two are loaded”, he said, smiling underneath his hood.

Damian prepared his fighting stick and Steph got in position. Another bang echoed in the chamber. And finally, the door was pulled outwards.

The three of them let out a collective sigh of relief at the sight.

“Kate”, Steph exclaimed, running to greet her.“I’m so glad you found us.”

“Yeah”, Batwoman replied, gently pushing Steph aside. “Now, do any of you care to explain how the hell did you get locked in a freezer?”

“It was totally not my fault”, three voices shouted simultaneously.

#batfamweek2020 #batfamily #red hood #spoiler #jason todd #stephanie brown #damian wayne #robin #mine #writing #dc

12 notes · View notes

this-is-a-love-story-fleabag · 5 years

Text

The Wedding Planner (1/4)

An AU in which Fleabag is a wedding planner, and Klare and Claire have found the perfect Catholic church to get hitched in... 2510 words. Also on ao3.

"Do you want some of the communion wine?" he blurted out, wanting her to stick around for a little longer. "I can't throw it away because it's holy," he explained, "and I probably shouldn't finish the bottle by myself. It's a good vintage."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Is this the part where I say 'Sorry, Daddy, I've been a bad girl'?"

He coughed and nearly dropped the bottle. "'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned' is more traditional," he managed, fishing out two glasses and pouring them both a liberal serving.

The priest was beginning to think that officiating a wedding for the first time was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

"I realise that there are certain things that are unavoidable in a Catholic wedding ceremony," the bride was saying in clipped tones, "but if you could just tone it down a bit on the... incense."

"Right," said the priest with an uneasy half smile.

"And maybe try to keep the prayers snappy and efficient. These are very busy people, you understand."

"OK." He shifted in his seat. "If you don't mind me asking, is there some reason you've chosen my church in particular?"

"It's the only Catholic church within five minutes' walk of the company's offices," answered Claire without hesitation, sweeping her immaculate dark hair behind one ear and frowning at her Blackberry.

"And it's beautiful!" beamed her effusive fiancé, who was inexplicably also named Klare. He seemed to have a positive opinion on everything he encountered, so the priest didn't judge the compliment as holding much weight.

"Oh," said Claire, clearly not having considered the attractiveness of the venue in her calculations. She smiled warmly at Klare, her brusque exterior melting away for a moment. "Yes, of course, it's..." she looked around the chapel as though she hadn't paid it any attention before. "It is beautiful," she said more softly, taking a private moment with Klare as she met his eye.

It was this, more than anything else, that convinced the priest to go ahead with the planning. To be able to celebrate love and to mark the key occasions in people's lives were the shining bright points in his quiet, peaceful career, and the love between these two was easy to see.

"I'm sure we can create a lovely ceremony together," he said with his most winning smile. "Are your family Catholic?"

She scoffed in a way that he was fairly sure she didn't mean to be offensive. "God, no."

"My family are old Catholic, very old," said Klare delightedly. "Many, too!"

"Yes, there are so very many of them," said Claire tightly, giving the priest a significant look that her blithe fiancé entirely failed to notice.

"The whole Korhonen family!" rhapsodised Klare. "So much blond hair that it will look like the sun!"

Suddenly, a matching his-and-hers cacophony of phone alerts began to chime. Claire and Klare both consulted their PDAs.

"It was so wonderful to meet you," said Klare earnestly, shaking the priest's hand in both of his as he rose to his feet. "I am so sorry that we have to leave!"

"Yes, right," said Claire briskly, pulling a small business card from her pocket. "I'm too busy and important to deal with this at the moment so you'll mostly be dealing with my sister," she said, handing it to him.

The card was emblazoned with the name "Hillary's Events", some contact information and, incongruously, an illustration of a guinea pig.

"She has my explicit instructions, so she should be able to handle it," continued Claire, pulling more cards from her purse, "but if anything goes wrong here's my work number, and here's my mobile, and this one's for my secretary."

"Oh, your sister's a wedding planner?"

"Yes, she is wonderful!" said Klare.

"She's good enough," said Claire with a tight smile. It was impossible to tell whether that was the highest praise that she was capable of giving or if her reticence betrayed genuine misgivings. "If she tells you anything about the hen do, it's not true."

"Well, congratulations on your engagement," said the priest politely, following them to the front door. "You must be excited to begin your marriage."

"It's a vestigial patriarchal tradition based on the handing down of women as property from father to husband," said Claire vaguely, looking at her phone again, "but it's what you do."

She flashed him another smile and they left. The priest managed to summon up a dazed smile in response to Klare's effusive waving, and then repaired back inside to find a stiff drink.

The CEO, customer service representative, creative director, office manager, head of human resources, tsar of morale, and sole employee of Hillary's Events was hiding under the desk in her office.

"M'lady!" hollered the lawyer through the keyhole. She burrowed further underneath the table, pushing a pair of shoes, a surprising amount of paperwork, and half a Mars bar out of her way.

A lunchtime quickie had seemed like an excellent idea at 3am when she'd sent him the original text, but the cold harsh light of day and one rapid but effective wank had dispelled the urge, and the prospect of trading half an hour of his loathsome company for some admittedly excellent sex no longer appealed.

A better adult, she reflected as she gave the Mars bar a sniff and began to eat it, would probably have simply cancelled their meeting and apologised, but if a successful businesswoman who ate a salad earlier couldn't do something grossly immature, who could?

Her desk phone began to ring and she groped blindly above her head to grab the receiver.

"Hillary's Events," she hissed into the phone. The lawyer continued his relentless pounding at the door.

"Uh, hi," said a voice on the other end, sounding confused. "I'm, uh, I'm calling about Claire's wedding? I'm the priest?"

Fantastic timing. "Great, thanks for calling," she whispered. "I'd like to send you over some bits about the ceremony to go over when you've got a moment."

There was a long pause. "I'm sorry, but why the fuck are you whispering and what the fuck is that noise?"

"Get back out here, you little minx!" shouted the lawyer at possibly the worst moment.

"If you're in the middle of something, I can call back some other time," said the priest, radiating discomfort over the phone.

"That's just a... colleague," she breezed, settling more comfortably in her hideout. "He usually tires himself out in a couple of minutes."

"Do you need me to call someone? The police, or..."

"No, Father, it's fine." She scrabbled around on her desk again and retrieved a pen. "What's your email address?" She uncapped the pen with her mouth and made assenting noises as she scribbled it down. Thankfully, the lawyer got bored at this point and left.

"AOL?" she teased gently, reading the address back to him. "I thought the Catholics were stuck in the 1690s, not the 1990s."

"Oh, fuck you," he laughed.

"I hope you're going to swear this much during the ceremony. It would certainly liven things up."

"I'll try to keep a lid on it. I get the impression your sister wants it to be... efficient."

"Yes, she was very specific. Brides don't usually give me binders that are colour-coded and have bullet points and subheadings."

The main instructions that Claire had left her with, other than the binder, were "don't fuck this up," and "the priest is quite hot, don't make it weird." She had to admit, he did have a nice voice.

"How long have you been in the wedding planning business?"

"A few years. I started it with my best friend, but she's... it's just me now." She paused for a minute and let the wave of grief hit her and then recede. "I need to come and check out the space sometime," she said, businesslike. "When's good for you?"

"I've some time this afternoon after Mass?"

"Great, I'll meet you there at four."

It was a few moments after she hung up the phone that it occurred to her that she could emerge from under her desk and sit in a real chair. Hillary and Stephanie had the run of her desk at the moment while she refreshed the sawdust in their cage, and they were enthusiastically nibbling on Mr. and Mrs. Dollner's silver wedding anniversary invitations.

"Let's put you back," she murmured to them, brushing some tiny rodent poops off a stack of place cards. "Mama's got to get to work."

The priest was just saying his farewells to the last few stragglers when Claire's sister walked through the door. She was easily recognisable, both due to family resemblance and the fact that, strangely, she looked exactly how she sounded on the phone.

"You must be the wedding planner," he said, greeting her with a handshake.

"You must be the priest."

"I guess this is a bit of a give-away," he said, gesturing to his robes.

"You're either a member of the clergy or you've got a very specific fetish," she breezed, walking past him to survey the church. He gaped at her for a moment and then shook his head and let out a laugh. She looked back at him over her shoulder, a pleased twinkle in her eye.

She strode along the aisle, gesturing around with an assessing air. "It's a pretty straightforward set-up. Flowers at the ends of the pews, videographer here, photographers here and here, string quartet up here. One bridesmaid, one groomsman."

"You've got this down to a science, wow."

"I've learned through trial and error that you can half-ass up to 80% of a wedding before anyone notices."

"That's... good to know."

"Do you have any of these," - she gestured up and down at his robes - "in some other colours? The scheme has a lot of purple in it."

"I have just the thing," he said, ushering her through into his office. He pulled his favourite purple robes out of the wardrobe and held them up for inspection. Drawing a card of swatches from her handbag, she squinted at them and then gave an assenting nod.

"Right, I think that's all I-"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Is this the part where I say 'Sorry, Daddy, I've been a bad girl'?"

He coughed and nearly dropped the bottle. "'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned' is more traditional," he managed, fishing out two glasses and pouring them both a liberal serving.

"I defy you to tell me the difference."

Sitting down on an ancient chair and gesturing for her to do the same, he chuckled. "Well, fuck, you've got me there. You only have to say that if you want to confess your sins to me, anyway. Which you're welcome to do, if it helps."

"Can't," she said wryly, taking a sip and relaxing onto a chair. "I've sworn a blood oath to never reveal what happened on Claire's hen do."

"Lots of sinning?"

"Tons." She swirled the wine in her glass and held it up to the light. "The blood of our lord and saviour is pretty tasty."

"I take it you're not religious."

"Afraid not. I won't burst into flames, will I?"

"I don't think He would mind," said the priest, making a vague gesture at the ceiling. "You're doing God's work, after all."

"Wedding planning?"

"He's quite into marriage, on the whole."

She snorted. "Makes one of us."

He leaned back in his chair and stifled a laugh, enjoying the enigma of this contradictory woman. "You made a fucking strange choice in profession, then."

"I find that the fact that I don't believe at all in the institution of marriage really helps calm people down."

"You know, the Bible says that-"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Yes, the Bible is very clear that marriage is a sacred and beautiful union between a man and one or many women."

"So cynical!" he crowed, throwing his head back in laughter. "I was going to say that it says that a cord of three strands is not easily broken."

"Are you inviting me to a threesome, Father?" she smirked, her lips stained a tempting red from the wine. "Because I'm not saying no."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm saying that the way you help to join people together makes them stronger."

"On average, marriage knocks 1.4 years from a woman's lifespan, and adds 1.7 years to a man's."

"So that's a net gain of," he waved a hand vaguely, "0.3 years!"

"That's one way to look at it."

"Don't you see anything wonderful in what you do? You're helping people to celebrate their love!"

"In the most meaningful and legally binding way. Tell me, why do people choose to make the most significant expression of their love predicated on a legal construct that the government can take away from them at the drop of a hat?"

"The protections that marriage can afford are-"

"If I fell in love with a woman and wanted to marry her, there are only 28 countries in which that marriage would be legally recognised. If I'd fallen in love with someone of a different race, that marriage would have been illegal in some countries until the late 20th Century."

"You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"

She put a foot up on the wooden chest in front of her, really getting into her stride. "That's not even taking into account the children who are forcibly married off to men twice their age, the women killed for not being virgins on their wedding night, and the fact that spousal rape was technically legal in this country until 1991." She took a gulp of her drink. "This isn't some abstract philosophical problem from the past, this is something that's happening to real people right now."

"So why-"

"I guess... I grew up thinking that marriage was some bizarre thing from the olden days that we didn't have to do any more, but then when I was an adult all my friends started getting married, and it meant something to them."

She looked down at her hands, clasped around the glass. "I think the thing that it means to them is beautiful."

"So you do believe in love."

"Absolutely, it's just that it sometimes feels like I'm shoving a princess into a white dress so I can send her off to live in a dragon-guarded castle."

"That sounds fucking amazing."

"Sorry, that was a bad example."

"Don't you find it beautiful that for thousands of years, people have chosen to celebrate their commitment to each other in front of their community?"

"If you think it's so beautiful, why have you chosen a profession which forbids you from getting married yourself?"

"I am married... to God," he mumbled, aware of just how that sentence sounded.

She screwed up her face. "Ugh."

He buried his face in his hands. "I know!"

"Just... ugh."

"Fuck, I can't believe I said that out loud. I really wanted you to think I was cool."

"Sorry, Father, I think that train has sailed."

"No, no, no, no, the wedding's not for another few weeks, I have time to convince you."

"I'll drink to that," she murmured, and then she did.

#fleabag #my fics #the wedding planner #au

27 notes · View notes

bluerene · 5 years

Text

RobStar Week #1 - Wayne Manor

Hello friends. Please allow me to quickly and suddenly resurrect my online presence with a week of robstar goodness, followed by an onslaught of miscellaneous content + a loooot of fics that should’ve been published ages ago. The bitch is back! She is also about to board a plane and has not proofread this one bit, so please excuse the ugly errors.

As always, feedback is loved.

Enjoy!

Wayne Manor (ft. implied BatCat justice bc it’s what we deserved)

It had been twenty-two years in the making, but finally, the day had come.

Dick tugged at the collar of his suit and huffed, tilting his wrist upwards to check his watch. Two hours till takeoff.

That was how he had been thinking of it anyway. The whole event felt more like a formality than anything else; marriage was just the legal definition of what they already had. Often enough, he forgot they weren’t husband and wife.

He glanced around the room and smiled; Alfred had really outdone himself this time. Dick brushed his fingers along the row of lilies that lined the entryway, admiring the splash of pink roses that stood out amid the white flora. Their saccharine smell lingered in the air as he walked on through the room, studying the impressive set-up.

They had chosen to host their wedding at Wayne Manor, which was gorgeous and private and comfortable. With graceful vaults and arches that curved into a smooth dome and made the polished marble floors gleam in the glittering sunlight, the ballroom was easily the most elegant waste of space Dick had known in his house. And, it was finally being put to use the way it deserved.

Alfred had thrown himself into preparations the moment he’d heard. Even in his old age, he was a force to be reckoned with- he had florists ready, caterers selected, a decorating committee arranged, and invitations delivered within days. Thirty-six hours before the ceremony, he had marched in with an army of specialists and had set to work on the hall.

It had been divided up in such a way that the service, reception, and dinner would all be hosted within a few feet of each other. From the thick maple doors of the entryway, she would walk in, fiercely beautiful as ever. She would make her way past the rows of chairs towards a trellis made of fine gold, twisted with flowers and leaves. Posts would be in line with its sides, thin gossamer curtains tied with ribbons from wall to wall, effectively cutting off access to the space behind. After they kissed, the entire party would pass through the curtains and into the garden, where they could immediately enjoy the reception, while the bride and groom snuck off to change into clothes better suited to dinner and dancing. At the end of the night, they would bid their goodbyes and steal away into the night as they had for the past twenty-two years.

Dick had envisioned this moment for half of his life in different ways. The bride used to change, often switching between the various women in his life at the time- but as time went on, the vision became clearer and more obvious. It could only be her. She’d always been there, a shadow flitting in and out of the window, playing with fire fearlessly.

Something probed his arm gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Does it remind you of ours?”

He smiled and drew her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

“In the best ways. Al really pulled this one together brilliantly.”

His wife sighed, intertwining their fingers.

“It is worth it. Their happy ending is long overdue.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, “it’s about time. How’s the bride looking?”

“Like a million of the dollar bills,” Kori replied cheekily, “truly, you may never have eyes for me again.”

He laughed and cupped her cheek, taking in her appearance. His eyes lingered on her full lips, the glimmer of happiness in her electric eyes, the slight pink flush that ran from her cheeks to her collarbone. Her hair had been pinned up into an intricate bun, stray curls framing her face. She was a vision in the soft gold gown Selina had asked her to wear as one of the bridesmaids.

“I don’t think I could ever have eyes for anyone other than you, beautiful.”

Kori beamed and slid her free hand to his chest, gripping the lapel of his suit jacket to pull him into a sweet kiss. Her mouth moving achingly slow against his while he fought to remind himself they were in an unconcealed, public space.

She pulled away and giggled, smoothing out the fabric she had crumpled.

“Your restraint is impressive, my love.”

“It had better be,” a deep voice resounded from behind them, “as I recall, you two are already married, so I doubt there’s much more you can do at a wedding that you haven’t done before.”

“You’d be surprised, Dad,” Dick said cheerfully, “but I’m not looking to upstage your night, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Hello k’norfka Bruce,” Kori said eagerly, hurrying to press a kiss to her father-in-law’s cheek, “you look very handsome! How are you feeling?”

Bruce patted her shoulder affectionately, a rare smile lighting up his face, “like I should have done years ago. You look lovely, by the way.”

“I was just telling Richard to reserve judgment until after the bride has arrived. Selina is truly...indescribably wonderful.”

Dick didn’t miss the dreamy look that crossed his father’s face.

“And the flower girl? As radiant as her mother?”

He didn’t miss the way his wife blushed at those words either.

“Provided she does not ruin her dress again, Mar’i will look perfect,” she replied with a sigh, glancing at the doors, “in fact, I believe it is time for me to check in on her. Please excuse me, k’norfka Bruce. Richard, I will see you before the ceremony.”

Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her leave.

“How are you feeling, Dick?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? It’s your wedding, after all.”

“It’s about time, don’t you think,” Bruce replied with a grin, “I made her wait twenty-two years.”

“I’m still amazed by that, y’know. Star and I tied the knot...what, six years after we started dating. I can’t believe it took you guys this long.”

“Well we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Only because Selina was boss enough to propose.”

“I would’ve proposed when the time came!” Bruce said indignantly.

Dick snorted, “Yeah, in 2068, when you’re too close to death to fear commitment.” He glanced around the room, gaze falling on a nearby satin pillow, “Is the ring-bearer going to show up today?”

“He’ll pitch a fit, but yes. The kid’s a fan of Selina. Plus, he misses you.”

“The devil? Inconceivable,” Dick muttered.

Bruce cuffed him on the back of the head, “He’s your brother.”

“So is Tim, but you don’t see him slicing me up in ‘training sessions’. Speaking of, where is he? Why am I the only one here?”

“Jason plans on popping in during the reception. Tim’s bringing Stephanie so he’s at her house. Alfred is with Damian.”

“That’s not what I mean. Why am I the only one here, now?”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, and rubbed the back of his neck, ”You’re the first, you know. I’ve always held the others up to you, even when I shouldn’t have. You were a brat, but you were also my first son. I wanted you to be here for that.”

“Dad.”

“No jokes, I’m serious.”

“I am too.”

“Well...good.”

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence, eyes fixed on the rows of chairs and the trellis directly ahead.

“So…”

“Hit the bar? A couple of pre-wedding drinks?”

“Is that what Garfield and Victor did with you?”

Dick laughed as he lead his father out of the hall, “Are you kidding? They wouldn’t let me near the mini-bar. Said they would beat my ass if I was tipsy at my own wedding.”

“Clearly you’re not concerned about me.”

“Nah. First, Silena is more than capable of sobering you up with a single glance. Second, you’re Batman.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m pretty sure Kori would do the same if you’d stumbled down the aisle. That woman can pack a punch.”

“Do I detect a hint of fatherly pride there, Dad? Are you finally coming around to your daughter-in-law?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, nudging Dick with his elbow.

“Knock it off. You know I respect her and care about her. She’s a fine young woman. I couldn’t have chosen better for you if I’d tried.”

Dick softened, “I was kidding, but...thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. She loves and admires you so much. And she tells Mar’i stories about you all the time. She won’t let me ruin your image even a little.”

“She gave you the home you needed, didn’t she?” Bruce said quietly, “Your relationship with me and this house and everything you had turned away from was different after she came into your life.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, clapping his hand on his father’s shoulder, “my home is wherever she goes. And she always seems to know what I need when I need it. That’s why she cares so much about this place.”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I gave you in the beginning, you know. I think it pushed you to be strong and decisive, but I am sorry if it hurt you.”

“Not gonna lie, I was pretty pissed for a while. But Star always understood. Always gave you the benefit of the doubt.”

“She’s a special girl.”

And Dick could have gone on about how perfect his wife was - how incomparably sweet and passionate and fiery she could be. How strongly she fought for their family. How lovingly she accepted everyone into her heart.

But he simply nodded and raised his watch to check the time, grinning at his father.

“How about that drink, old man? Push away some of those pre-wedding jitters?”

Bruce’s lips twitched in amusement, but Dick still caught the happy creases around his eyes.

“As long as Alfred doesn’t catch us, I’m game.”

“Afraid he’ll kick your ass?” Dick teased, swiftly dodging a well-aimed slap upside the head.

“It’s my wedding day, son. I get a free pass. I’m looking out for you.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Dick chuckled, “you always do.”

#its robstar week bitches #the tags vanished when i posted this idk #selina kyle #bruce way #dick grayson #koriandr #robstar #batcat #batman #catwoman #robin #starfire #blue writes #blue is exhausted

62 notes · View notes