#NOBODY LOOKS AT MY (BEAUTIFUL) ARCHIVE EXCEPT FOR ME | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

c-is-for-circinate · 3 years ago

Text

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe?#C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess?#there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

6K notes · View notes

ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

Text

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne.

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it :

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it.

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing.

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college.

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first.

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”.

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful !

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure.

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true.

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything.

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery.

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well.

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe.

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst.

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe.

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money.

Damn it !

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-”

“Here, miss, you dropped this.”

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill.

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you.

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him.

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop.

“Here’s your change, m’am.”

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Wow, thanks !”

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?!

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him.

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year.

Him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together.

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...).

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock.

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.”

“(Y/N) !”

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward.

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year.

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ?

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them.

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ?

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy.

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised :

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.”

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats :

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!”

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact.

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying :

“Honey, who are your friends ?”

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?!

HOW ?!

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.”

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction.

And that’s something Bruce caught.

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision.

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others...

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it.

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea.

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-”

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation :

“My love ?”

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day.

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would.

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say :

“Are you an angel ?”

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”.

He chuckles, and says :

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.”

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ?

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.”

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?!

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.”

“Haha oh you have no idea.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.”

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says :

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away.

“What the...”

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.”

“Huh ?”

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day.

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.”

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues :

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.”

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.”

“Ask me what ?”

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at.

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say :

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) :

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”.

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange.

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope.

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

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that.

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds :

“Of course, I will pay you.”

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded :

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.”

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines.

“And it would truly help me tremendously.”

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing.

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”.

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too.

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss.

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne !

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ?

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny.

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring.

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you.

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious.

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were...

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand.

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary.

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy.

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever.

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows.

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.”

“Exactly !”

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes.

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back.

“Sorry for the wait.”

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.”

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?”

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.”

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.”

“Only if you call me (Y/N).”

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues :

“Ok, then I thought we could-”

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc.

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy.

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family.

And it was a needed step.

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ).

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy.

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed :

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.”

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment.

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course.

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.”

“Can you be mine then ?”

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer :

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.”

“Oooooh !”

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew.

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was.

He had a knack, to notice how people felt.

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do.

Today was one such small date.

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know.

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

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

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really.

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing.

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant.

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else.

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore.

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much).

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this.

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event.

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you.

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ?

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?”

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !”

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask :

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?”

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !”

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy.

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says :

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.”

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him.

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently.

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face.

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him :

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers :

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.”

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ?

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”.

“Kiss me then, if you dare.”

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ?

He couldn’t remember.

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours.

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss.

As fake as it might be.

Your room.

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment.

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place.

So Alfred settled a room for you.

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best !

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day.

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant !

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later).

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation.

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear.

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World.

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for.

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !”

“Build...a bear ?”

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !”

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?”

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !”

“Huh ?”

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face.

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing.

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything.

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?”

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two.

Instead, he said :

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.”

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer.

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory.

And oh. Oh that boy was right.

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options.

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day.

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors.

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.”

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.”

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.”

“Which is ?”

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!”

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.”

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again.

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy...

Rumors and Truth

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page.

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24.

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ?

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world.

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?).

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart.

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors.

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now.

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you.

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?”

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”.

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say :

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.”

“Ah.”

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.”

“What do you think is not true ?”

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.”

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?”

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors.

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman.

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ?

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him.

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none.

“How was college, for you ?”

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two).

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you.

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well.

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ?

He couldn’t.

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now.

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l-

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?”

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.”

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.”

“Suuuuuuuuuure.”

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says :

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.”

“Fake couple.”

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.”

“Ooooooh !”

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business.

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again.

“Stay here.”

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !”

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?”

“Ok.”

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again.

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you.

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

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?”

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet...

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?”

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do.

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were.

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?”

“I dont’ think so.”

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow.

That’s when you see him. Batman.

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him.

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !”

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.”

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-”

“Nowhere. Leave.”

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!”

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face.

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman.

Bad move.

Very bad move.

In a matter of second, it was over.

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks :

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?”

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?”

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now.

“Oh, right, ok.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous.

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?).

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell.

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.”

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues :

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.”

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle.

It also scared you a little.

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him.

And that wasn’t good.

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ?

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again.

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile.

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became.

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad.

“I mean it you know.”

His little voice brings your attention back to him.

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.”

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you.

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne.

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne.

This was...bad.

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad.

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”.

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too.

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then.

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ?

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it.

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.

And it couldn’t happen soon enough.

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you.

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad.

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache.

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend.

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything.

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving.

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham.

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?”

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?”

“I do not look like a sad puppy.”

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?”

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous.

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless.

Hope.

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough...

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?”

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said :

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.”

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!”

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.”

“And you saved her. Your point being ?”

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.”

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him :

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?”

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son.

His son.

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look.

Success.

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door.

“You did it, Master Richard.”

“I hope I did !”

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug.

It’s real.

Back to square one.

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream.

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred.

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended.

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered.

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react.

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent.

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch.

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be.

But there was no need for fights.

At least, not in the literal sense of the term.

“Bruce ?”

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds :

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ?

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion.

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny.

Towards Bruce.

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind.

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile.

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time.

A real first kiss.

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be.

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright.

A real one.

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”.

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t.

“I love you.”

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in.

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy.

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise.

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.”

“Huh ?”

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful.

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.”

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !”

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.”

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!”

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted.

“Get a ROOOOM !!”

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ?

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year.

This was who you were.

Right there.

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !).

The end.

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :), It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story !

#Bruce Wayne x reader #Batman x Reader #Batmom #Batfam x Reader #Batfam #Batfamily x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne #Batman #DC reader insert #Richard Grayson x Reader #Richard Grayson imagine #Batman imagine #Batman reader insert #Robin x reader #AU compare to main Batmom #Richard Grayson #fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

jimalim · 3 years ago

Photo

Leatin Fic Rec Friday! #5

Happy Pride Month! Why not celebrate by reading these lovely fics, and catching up on past weeks recs here!

i get off this way (when i’m in love) by lostresidentevilpotter

Words: 10,904 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Favorite Tag: N/A Summary: an alternate version of 1x09 where Fatin finds another way to calm Leah down instead of drugging her after she’s dragged out of the ocean. What I personally love about this fic: I’m obsessed with the idea of Fatin kissing Leah instead of giving her the pill to calm her down after running into the ocean! The tension in this fic is so palpable and well built! Really fun read!

maybe nobody loved you when you were young by beepbedeep

Words: 1,634 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Favorite Tag: leah and fatin liiiiiiike each other!!!! Summary: Looking back, it was all too easy to fall in love with her, Leah’s not nearly strong enough to survive the infectious laugh, and warm hands, and whip-smart smile, but the staying in love, well that she’s pretty proud of. What I personally love about this fic: The finale paragraph paints this super sweet picture of all the girls spending time together post island! That last sentence really packs a punch!!

Kiss me once, cause you know ( i had a long night) by passwordfuckingpassword

Words: 1,067 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Favorite Tag: N/A Summary: Fatin knows Leah is gonna kiss her before her lips find hers What I personally love about this fic: It’s a very soft moment between them, Fatin’s “I thought you were beautiful” is so incredibly sweet!

love struck by freshhellorwtv

Words:1,929 Chapters:1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Favorite Tag: N/A Summary: Shelby and Leah, it turns out, have more in common than they thought. Namely, they’re both disgustingly in love with their girlfriends. What I personally love about this fic: So this one is tangentially leatin, as the fic is about Shelby and Leah, but it’s super cute how they both gush about their respective girlfriends! Fun read!!

Relax by FreeGrain

Words:1,862 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Favorite Tag: N/A Summary: Tired and drunk, Leah lies on the cold sand and tries to collect her thoughts. She’s not going crazy. She isn’t. But she feels like she is.No one bothers approaching her because they know what she’s like. Well. No one except Fatin. What I personally love about this fic: I’m such a sucker for cuddling!! They are too damn cute in this! My favorite Bold Leah makes an appearance too!

#leatin #the wilds #leah rilke #Fatin Jadmani #fatin x leah #fic rec

24 notes · View notes

kkurainmyheart · 4 years ago

Text

JEANPIKU WEEK, DAY 1 FREE SPACE

English is not my first language so here's the link for the original in Spanish. And below, the english version.

The night was peaceful, the music that came from the gramophone brought joy to the room illuminated by the softness of the pendant lamp that spread the rays through its bright windows. The room with pink walls and pompous white armchairs to match the curtains that revealed in its decoration the soft personality of the hosts of the place. The white fireplace crackled in a corner burning the logs that had been placed at some point during the day, the fire was reflected in the whiskey glasses that are located on the dark table on which part of the so-called Alliance played cards.

"I'm telling you, I was the best at playing cards."

"I believe you, Jean," Pieck smirked at her side.

Reiner, totally focused, took two cards from the deck and threw a card on the table.

"Even if I don't want to admit it, you're right," Connie mentioned. "He was the only bastard who understood the dynamics of the game, although I was the best at resisting when we drank."

Armin smiled nodding, under the table in a rapid movement he exchanged 3 cards with Annie's, nobody noticed.

"Who was the best drinking of the warriors?"

The boy from Ragako spoke again, before taking his glass and giving him a sip that burned his throat.

Pieck, Reiner, and Annie looked at him. It was not abnormal for this type of questioning between them, after the rumble they had invented a way to become close and maybe, just maybe, it also became a method of mutual forgiveness. Knowing their motives and circumstances helped them heal.

"I wasn't around long enough to know that, but I'm also curious, I guess Porco? or maybe you, Reiner,”

The blonde asked with interest, she had changed too much with Armin's company, she took 3 cards from the deck.

"Actually, it was her," the former titan pointed at the brunette who was sitting in front of him.

They felt Pieck's laughter rise at the sound of the music as she nodded in amusement. Jean and Connie's mouth dropped open in surprise, Armin raised an eyebrow. They had been together for five years, and on none of those occasions had the former wielder of the cart titan had more than a glass or two. Also, just looking at her petite build told everyone that Reiner was joking.

"I'm also the fastest drinking,"

she casually mentioned as she lowered her cards onto the table, 2 scales and a three of a kind to beat.

The petite woman who today wore a white shirt with a beautiful blue cotton skirt smiled as she rested her head on her arms that braced themselves on the table.

“It is impossible!”

"What's wrong Connie?" She said looking at him with bright eyes ”do you want me to prove it by defeating you in front of your friends? Armin please stop cheating” changing her gaze to the blonde who observed her embarrassed.

"You wouldn't in a million years, Angel. " Connie used the nickname derisively as she lowered her cards, four threesomes.

They both looked at each other seriously, making the rest of the table uncomfortable.

"You really didn't use that nickname!"

“I did it! Angel! Angel! Angel!” Shouted the boy sarcastically.

Pieck hit the table with both fists attracting everyone's attention, she felt frustrated and angry, no one called her that except the person who had given her the nickname.

"Bring alcohol! I'm going to make this competitive bastard cry!”

Soon the cards were replaced with glasses and bottles filled with fine liquor. The bets were not long in coming, they were soldiers, after all, betting was a tradition. Reiner and Annie decided to bet their money on Pieck; Jean and Armin had done the same for Connie. After many rounds of alcohol, they not only had a clear winner but two completely drunk people sleeping on the table.

A happy Annie put her money in the pocket of her caramel coat as she hummed the happy tune; Reiner counted his money in front of the losers, it was after 5 in the morning, they had to go home. They decided that it was wise to help clean up the house, while Annie was in charge of carrying the glasses to the kitchen along with Armin, Reiner would make sure that Connie did not choke on her own vomit; That left Jean taking over as the champion of the night.

Jean rolled his green shirt up to his elbows, then wrapped the girl's arm around his shoulder and helped her up; a very dizzy Pieck cooperated in the first meters of their journey; almost reaching the second-floor things got brutal. Jean was careless for two seconds and the girl was with half of her body hanging from the railing, trying to reach something that no one else saw; it was like a little 3-year-old girl discovering the world for the first time

“Sight! A butterfly!” She shouted, spreading his hands.

"Yes, yes Pieck" Jean addressed her calmly while holding her slim waist blocking her unexpected suicide attempt "come here."

He pressed the small woman against his chest to keep control over her, of course, there were no butterflies inside the house; the woman's imagination was at an all-time high and Jean was amused. He had seen other drunks before, but it was the first time he had seen the girl that way, her black hair still clung to the low ponytail with which she had started the day so he could see their expressions of astonishment at everything that she thought that saw.

“Is blue! Look how pretty, Jeanbo!”

The girl let go of his grip this time running down the hallway with white walls and pink carpet with intricate details; she almost tripped over the potted plants of the ficus plants that grow indoors. Jean sighed and took long strides to catch up with her, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her against him.

"Come on Pieck, let's put you to bed."

"But the butterfly?" She looked at him with sad eyes.

She really wanted to go after her imaginary little friend. Jean tried to walk with her to the other side of the hall where her room was supposed to be, they stumbled a couple of times in a clumsy forest of legs.

"Where's my butterfly ?!” She said scared, her eyes showed the terror she felt, and her mouth tightened in a line

"I don't know Pieck," he said tiredly.

He felt the girl cling to him, putting her ear close to his toned chest covered by the emerald shirt. He heard her sigh loudly and saw her tremble and then begin to cry loudly against his chest.

“Why are you crying?” his amber eyes and his voice denoted concern

Pieck stared into his eyes with fury and furrowed brows

"You ate it !!" she yelled

“What?”

"You ate my butterfly!" Tears flowed from his dark eyes like soft summer rain

“Of course not!”

“Yes! You did it! It's flapping in your chest!”

Of course, it didn't. First, there were no butterflies, secondly Jean would never eat a butterfly, and third, it was more than obvious that it was his heart beating indomitable for having her close. Maybe if she had been sober she would have said it, released what she felt like she wanted him to release that butterfly; but Jean, he was sure that she would not remember any of this the next day. So he decided to play around with this a bit.

"Yes, I ate it," he said with a slight smile as he stroked the girl's hair with one of his hands. "What will you do about it?"

Pieck was thoughtful for a moment, then in one swift movement, she laid her head back on the tall man's chest. She whispers against him:

"I'll get you out of there little friend, I promise ." She looked at him defiantly. "Spit it out!"

“Of course not!” Jean laughed at the ridiculous situation

"Don't make me take her out, Jean!" she said with a terrifying command voice, my God! He loved that terrifying command voice.

"I repeat, what are you going to do about it?" He took his hands to his hips, arrogant.

The petite woman stopped staring at Jean's chest silently, blinked a few times, and then her expression lit up in knowledge. She closed the distance between them, pulling the collar of the man's shirt so that they were both at the same height, then without saying a word or changing expression together with their mouths in a dirty kiss, violently sucking on Jean's tongue in the process. He snapped his neck out, and widened his eyes, he really didn't expect that

“What are you doing?” stuttering

"Sucking the butterfly out of you," she replied calmly and smugly, "so be a good boy and come back here. I have work to do and I still feel her flapping here.” She touched her slender fingers to Jean's chest, right above his heart.

He froze for a moment then a smile of understanding adorned his lips, he approached her mouth seductively.

"Let me help you," he whispered.

They began to kiss euphorically and hot, their breaths shaking, Jean's hands pressing her closer to his body, almost merging with each other. At some point, he lifted her up and the woman wrapped her legs around his waist as she played with his ash blonde hair. The tall man's big hands went up and down the brunette's small back. They parted gasping for air.

“Jean…

"Pieck ...

They both brought their foreheads together, she whispered to him with concern as she looked at him with regret.

"I think I swallowed the butterfly, I feel it beating here now." She pointed to her own chest, where her own racing heart was beating

Jean smiled.

“So let me help you again”

He was about to start a new kiss when Pieck stirred to release herself, he left her on the ground again looking at her strangely. She put her hands to her head, wincing.

"My head feels funny, oh my, is your girlfriend waiting for you?" Sighed “I also have a boyfriend? I can not remember”

"If you have it, come on, I'll take you to bed ."

The blonde sighed, took the impulse to take her in his arms, he also felt tired. Pieck rested her head on his shoulder and he could feel the calm breathing of the girl on his neck, she had fallen asleep.

He put the woman on the two-body bed with the blue coverlet; he lit the white lamp on the bedside table; he removed her heels and then positioned her on her side under the blankets; He kissed her forehead; he tucks the dark locks behind her ears and tucks her in.

He walked to the bathroom behind the white door in the corner of the room, filled a glass with water, and retraced his steps to place it on the nightstand. He watched the girl sleep and laughed as quietly as he could. He knelt beside the bed.

"I think you drank a lot today, Mrs. Kirstein”

He took the delicate hand of the girl, the hand that had a delicate wedding band on the ring finger, and kissed it fondly.

"I'm going to take Connie to his home and when I come back we'll take care of your clothes." He placed a kiss on her slightly parted pink lips. "I'll be right back, my angel."

He quickly descended the stairs, the walls of which hung photos of his wedding and his friends. Five years had not passed in vain.

“Let 's go?”

He was still amazed at how heavy Connie could be when he got drunk.

Jean woke up at noon the next day with a butterfly beating strongly in his chest, his wife sitting on his lap looking at him embarrassed.

"Please Jean, don't let me drink again."

"As you order, my Angel."

#Jeanpikuweek #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #attack on titan #pieck snk #pieck finger #fingerstein #jeanpiku #pikujean #fanfic

24 notes · View notes

sarainstuff · 4 years ago

Text

A lucky meeting

Jack the Leerie x Reader

A casual meeting in a dark street with a charming lamplighter makes the reader question everything she knew and will help her broken heart to heal and love again.

Hello hello hello, here it is the first chapter of a new story involving our favorite leerie. I honestly have no idea of when the second chapter will come out and this chapter also ends in a sort of "cliffhanger", nothing too big in my opinion but if you want closure then I guess this isn't the right time.

I hope you'll enjoy it!

TRIGGER WARNING: AT THE VERY BEGINNING THERE IS A DESCRIPTION OF A WOMAN BEIGN CHASED BY A MAN, IT'S LITERALLY A COUPLE LINES LONG

Read it on AO3

The echo of your shoes on the paved road and your raggedy breath were the only sounds on the empty dark street. Your lungs were on fire for the long run and your eyes were filled with tears for the fatigue, but you couldn’t stop yet, you weren't safe yet.

You turned around to see if the man chasing you was still there, that was when you tripped and banged your chin on the unforgiving pavement. You had to get back up, you had to run again or it would have been the end of you, but you just couldn’t convince your legs to work, so you praied that the man was far gone now, as you tried to catch your breath feeling the taste of blood in your mouth.

You felt a slight nudge on your shoulder and you froze, trying to hold your breath and pretending to be unconscious, hoping that you will be left alone.

“Miss? Are you alright miss? “

The voice you heard wasn’t the one of your chaser. It seemed kind and full of concern, but you knew better to not trust a stranger. A cover isn't a book.

After being tricked many times by apparently good men, you learnt to not trust anyone. The reason why you were laying on the ground right now was pretty eloquent on why that was a stupid idea.

“Miss? Are you hurt?” the kind voice said, nudging on your shoulder once again.

You gained a little bit of strength and you hoped that would have been enough to run away if the situation worsened, so you turned your head around to meet the owner of the voice.

The man was kneeling next to you under a lamplight and the light reminded you of a halo around his head.

It took you a moment to take in the features of his face: he seemed to be fairly young, probably around his thirties, he sported a slight stubble and overall he looked as kind as his voice. You hated to admit that to yourself, but he was kind of cute.

“Hello miss, is everything alright?” he asked tilting his head. He was definitely a stubborn man, any other person would have just walked away or taken advantage of you, but this man didn’t look like any other.

You got up on your knees, slightly hurting from your fall “Yeah, I’m alright” you said sarcastically.

The man giggled a little at your comment. He got up on his feet and handed out his hands to you “You need help getting up?”

“No thanks I can manage that myself” you said with confidence. Way too much confidence, because as soon as you stood up your legs gave out and you would have fallen again if that stranger didn’t catch you in time.

“Gotcha!” he said smiling kindly. That was a really sweet smile, you couldn’t deny it.

“Thanks” you mumbled, feeling a little annoyed about the help.

“You are welcome, miss”

“Stop calling me miss, nobody calls me like that” you sourly said.

“Then what is your name?”

“Y/N” you mumbled

“Is a very lovely name” the stranger said.

It was weird because he said it like he really meant it and not just to be polite. You definetly haven’t met anyone like him before, but you still tried to keep up a thug appearance.

“My name’s Jack, I’m a lamplighter” he said with a radiant smile. You knew about the lamplighters, you often saw them going around at night, they would gather up once their shift was over and share a pint or two, singing and speaking in their own weird language (to be honest, you believed they were simply too drunk to remember English), but they seemed to be a very cheerful group.

You realized that you were still standing between Jack’s arms. You reluctantly let go, feeling all of the sudden way too much cold without him, but trying to hide it

“Thank you for your help, Jack, I think that I can handle myself now” you said, hoping that would make it true.

Jack’s face got immediately serious. He reached out a hand towards your face and you jumped straight away, worried by his sudden motion. Could it be that you were fooled once again by the kindness of a stranger?

Jack tried to get closer but soon realized his mistake “I’m sorry” he said “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just noticed that your chin was bleeding”.

You touched your chin and it was, in fact, bleeding. Jack produced a clothed tissue from one of his pocket “May I? “ he asked politely.

You went closer to him under the light. Normally you would have never trusted someone like this, but Jack had plenty of ways to hurt you and never did anything. You were still on the edge, catching any worrying signs, but you didn’t felt as scared as before “Thank you… “ you mumbled.

“Tell me if it hurts” Jack said, tilting your head up delicately with one hand. Under the light, you could see his face better and you were struck by his deep brown eyes. They were probably the most beautiful pair of eyes you’d ever seen, it was like swimming inside warm cocoa, such a piercing yet calming gaze that made it impossible to look away.

Jack was very delicate as he lightly tapped your chin, whenever you flinched in pain he would stroke your cheek tightly with his thumb, gently shushing you down.

You didn’t know what to do, your feelings towards this man were very conflicted: on one side you wanted to believe that, as strange as it was, Jack was actually very sweet and kind. You knew that he was already stuck in your heart and for how hard you could try, you would have never forgotten him.

But your most reasonable part was still trying to warn you to not give all of this confidence to a stranger, your experience recounted to you of all the times you had faith in someone and those people crushed it. You weren’t ready to trust anyone so quickly ever again, but could Jack be the only exception? You weren’t ready to find out.

“There you are, you are good as new” Jack said with a huge smile. You noticed that his hand lingered a second too longer on your cheek, but maybe you were just overthinking about it. You thanked him and were about to say goodbye to him, when Jack stopped you immediately “You can’t go home alone at night, it might be dangerous”. You thought about the man chasing you and realized how lucky you have been to escape him.

“So you offer to protect me from the darkness, Mr. lamplighter?” you asked sarcastically cocking an eyebrow “Don’t be offended but as far as I know, you could be a scoundrel yourself and I highly doubt you could beat someone in a fight”.

Jack snorted at your commentary “I guess that if I look as weak as you say you’ll have no problem escaping me. But I can assure you that I’m not that kind of person. Plus I have a bike, I could get you home faster” he said pointing at it.

“It looks pretty unstable to me, is that how you hurt your victim? You let them fall off your bike? “you asked. That made him laugh and you felt your insides dancing along that warm music.

You had no idea where this was going to end, but you were enjoying this little flirting and secretly hoped Jack felt the same way.

“C’mon now, nobody ever fell off my bike, I promise you” Jack said handing out his hand for you to take it.

You gladly accepted it, the thrill of the unknown running down your spine. You sat right in front of him, Jack’s arms close to yours, as he leaned over you to give himself a push and start riding.

It was nice to be held in this half embrace, you felt Jack’s warmth on your back and his breath on your neck, but most importantly, you felt safe for the very first time in a while.

“Where are we going miss?” Jack asked, his lips close to your ear. You were grateful to be looking away from him because otherwise, he would have seen you blushing.

A thought occurred into your mind: you couldn’t tell him where you lived, what if he changed his mind after he discovered the truth? What if you’d never seen him again?

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” Jack said, worried about your silence. You turned your head slightly to look at him and as he looked down at you, your lips were close. This small moment of distraction was fatal since one of the wheels of the bike ran into a branch in the middle of the street and you both fell down.

Jack hold you tight to his chest to prevent you from hitting the ground and landed on his back with you on top of him, everything happened so fast and it took you a while to realize how inappropriate the situation was.

Jack was hissing in pain under you, he had probably hit his head, you tried to turn around but then you noticed that in the midst of the fall he grabbed you on your chest. Jack stopped his complaining and retracted his hand immediately, allowing you to roll next to him as your cheeks grew redder and he repeatedly said how sorry he was.

“Jack are you alright?” you asked as you reached for him, trying to calm him down.

“Yeah, I’m alright” He said massaging his head “Actually i think that I might be bleeding a little”.

You turned around him and checked the back of his head, thankfully there was no trace of blood there

“Oh Jack, I’m incredibly sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry about, it was my fault” he said turning his head to face you. Very closer to you, once again.

You were drawn by that dark pair of eyes once again but rapidly averted his gaze as you felt a slight blush appearing on your cheeks once again. You got up and offered Jack a hand to help him on his feet.

“His hands are so warm” you thought before scolding you once again. What was up with you and this handsome lamplighter, for God’s sake?

You looked down at his bike and noticed that one of the tires was slashed. It really wasn't a lucky night for none of you two.

Jack was kneeling down to examine his bike, worry on his face. You felt so sorry for what happened, he was just trying to help you and now his bike was broken, you needed to help him and made up for it, the least you could do was offering a place to sleep.

“Look Jack” you whispered getting closer to him as he looked up at you “my house isn’t far from here, you can sleep at my place if-“

He jumped up and interrupted you “No, no, no absolutely not. Miss I can’t abuse of your kindness, it wouldn’t be fair and I-"

You took his hands and looked at him straight in the eyes “Please Jack, you can’t come back home this late and you are injured. You will get some sleep and I’ll help you fix your bike tomorrow”

You held his hands tighter and searched for his eyes in the dark “You helped me before, let me return the favor”.

Jack looked away and untangled from your hands, you thought you saw a small blush on his cheek. Oh God if he was cute.

“It wouldn’t be very appropriate” he said looking down at his bike "we don't really know each other..."

You sourly smiled “That won’t be a problem…”

“What do you mean?” he said tilting his head

You took a deep breath, ready for the worse.

“I live in a brothel… and I work there too”

#jack the leerie #jack the lamplighter #mary poppins returns #Jack the Leerie x reader #Fluff #Hurt and comfort #ao3 author #ao3 link #lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda x reader

41 notes · View notes

ladyfawkes · 4 years ago

Text

Eugene Appreciation Week - Day 1 - Childhood | The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

Current word count: 3178

Current Rating: T for upcoming chapters

This is my version of that now-infamous RTA lost episode, "The Trial of Fitzherbert and Schnitz". Most of you are aware how I took issue with Disney having used both adoption AND Eugene's having adopted his lifelong persona as Flynn as a 20-minute throwaway plot. I'm gonna try to beef up that premise.

I suppose this is ALSO my way of refuting some of the (very limited) spoilery stuff I've read that's included in the upcoming traditionally published Flynn Rider novel.

My own plot line will be significantly darker than your average Disney plot, though.

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

Chapter 1: Sister Eunice

Several years into the past....

Arnie was skipping down the corridor just past the chapel, minding his own business, when suddenly a loud CRASH!!! sounded from just behind him. He whipped around to see an enormous new hole in a large ornate stained-glass window behind him that was intact just seconds ago.

Thinking one of the rowdier orphans to be at fault, Arnie ran to have a looksee outside. He was shocked to discover nobody except Sister Eunice opposite him next to the stone wall. Surely she couldn’t have been the one to shatter the window??

The young nun noticed him from outside the chapel though and hissed, “Arnie!! Arnie, don’t tell anybody you saw me here! Please. I’m trying to save Eugene!! I’m trying to save you all!! If anybody asks, especially Father Francis, tell them you saw Eugene throw a rock at the window. I can’t explain why, but it’ll help out. A LOT. Can you do that for me, please, Arnie? Would you do this to save your best friend, Eugene?” She was looking at him with frightened eyes, taking surreptitious furtive glances behind her.

Ten-year-old Arnie had stared back, wide-eyed, and had only barely begun to nod when Sis Eunice turned back, ran around the corner of the chapel toward Arnie’s right, and disappeared. Young Arnie was left standing there, mouth agape, wondering why on earth a nun - a nun!!! - would throw a heavy rock through a church-owned stained glass window. And especially a window that the children were told was hundreds of years old!

Not long after that, to his left, Arnie saw someone else outside out of the corner of his eye. The young boy instinctively hid behind the full partition of the wall where the stained glass window ended. It was Fr Francis, the priest for the local parish, walking at a brisk pace. And Arnie could’ve sworn the scary priest might be tracking Sis Eunice. Arnie and Eugene hadn’t ever been particularly fond of Francis. In fact, they went out of their way to avoid the older dour-faced man.

Although Fr. Francis was currently looking at the hole in the window from a ways off, he couldn’t see where Arnie was from his vantage point. Arnie slinked away to go find Eugene.

Turned out he bumped into Eugene almost immediately since Eugene had been in the chapel, waiting to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin. Arnie stopped in his tracks at the sight of his friend, all freshly bathed, his hair combed, and so unexpectedly dressed in a new blue velvet skeleton suit, white stockings, silk shirt, and leather shoes. It was the latest modern fashion that all the rich boys were wearing in Vardaros. He knew that because Eugene told him every time they were fortunate enough to go to town with one of the sisters. Arnie would have to pry Eugene away from the shop window where Eugene’s face would sometimes get so close to the display that his nose print would remain on the glass. Arnie didn’t understand why Eugene cared about stuff like that. Fashion and velvet and lace. Orphans weren’t supposed to care. Food was more important anyway.

“I heard a terrible crash and came to investigate!” Eugene said breathlessly.

All thought of the broken window had flown from Arnie’s mind at the sight of his transformed best friend and he demanded, “What’re you wearing alla that for??”

Suddenly self-conscious, Eugene crammed his hands in his new pockets, stared at the floor, scuffed the sole of his new shoe against the mosaic tile and mumbled, “Fr Francis took me aside after breakfast to the rectory and said that Lord and Lady Boskin have chosen to adopt…..me.” He said it with the same amount of awe he felt when he first saw the suit in its parcel.

“....and….and you didn’t think to tell me any sooner? You were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” accused Arnie, his eyes filling with tears. Eugene could see his pouting lips tremble from several yards away. “But...but I didn’t know either…!” protested Eugene, now fighting tears himself, before he was abruptly cut off.

As Arnie stood there simultaneously hating and envying Eugene, a whole crowd of people had arrived from both sides of the corridor, to all of the ensuing hullabaloo of the shattered window. Unfortunately, it was just in time to see these two boys standing by themselves right near the new gaping hole in the priceless stained glass window.

Fr Francis had reappeared inside followed by the Mthr Superior, Sis Eunice, several dozen children, and a few other nuns. Everyone was chattering and buzzing and arguing about which of the two boys had broken the window -- Arnie or Eugene. Perhaps both? Immediately they both protested their innocence and the bored aggressive older boys used the moment as an excuse to break out into a fight…

Two brawny red-headed boys quickly left the mob only to have one boy each bowl right into Eugene and Arnie. All four boys toppled over to the floor.

All of the other children started shouting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” and just before the redheads could land their first actual punches, Fr Francis easily intervened by grabbing both of their pulled-back fists, squeezing them, and ordering the boys to get up off their intended victims and up off the floor. They reluctantly complied. Then Francis ordered Arnie and Eugene off the floor and to follow him to his office.

As Eugene looked down in dismay at the visible dirt on his beautiful new suit, Sis Eunice surreptitiously put a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, in a voice so softly only he could hear, “Don’t worry -- these are play clothes. More than capable of taking a few layers of dirt from rambunctious young boys.” She always had a way to help him feel better….but this time, since he was effectively being frog-marched to the priest’s office over something he didn’t do, the good feeling didn’t last nearly long enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))((0))((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Hours Earlier…..

Eugene had been called to the rectory by Fr. Francis immediately following breakfast. Without any prior notice whatsoever, he informed Eugene that Lord and Lady Boskin had actually chosen to adopt him!!!

Young Eugene couldn’t believe his luck! He wondered why he’d been chosen. What had the wealthy young couple seen in him? Even though he’d only been formally introduced once or twice, and had spoken only a few sentences to them, they chose him. And he supposed they seemed nice enough.

Eugene and most of the orphans had already seen the younger couple several times. He learned from the nuns over the past couple of years that the pair were evidently unable to have children of their own and as such, had been growing their own family a different way. Twice per year for the past two years, they had chosen a new child from amongst the orphans at this orphanage. Prior to their more formal choosing-times for each child, they would come to the orphanage for several trips and take turns meeting and chatting with the children. Yet this time, they had actually chosen Eugene.

Sis. Eunice had entered the rectory right behind Fr Francis and his announcement; the latter then vacated the building. Sis Eunice had taken Eugene by the hand and led him to the home’s water closet. And already waiting for him was a fresh bath -- mid-week, even! He was accustomed to every Saturday at most. For the first time in his life, Eugene was treated to his very own bath where the water was actually extra warm and didn’t contain the sloughed-off post-bathing scoodge from a zillion other children lurking in the bottom.

Eugene had seen the nuns sniffle and get misty-eyed plenty of times when other children had been adopted. But their crying was always rather delicate and they always tried to smile through it. However, as Sis Eunice helped him to properly wash his fingers, toes, and ears during what Eugene thought of as his luxurious bath, Sis Eunice also kept repeatedly bursting into tears. And apologizing for it. She seemed genuinely….worried.

The nuns weren’t supposed to have favorites but Eugene knew Sis Eunice was easily the most fond of him. She had arrived at the orphanage during the height of a disease outbreak which had very nearly claimed little Eugene’s life. And it would have done so too, if it weren’t for Sis Eunice’s dogged persistence. They had originally bonded over their funny-sounding first names. She’d turned her own name into a joke to try and give him a reason to smile….and it worked. Most if not all of the other nuns were quite hands-off but Sis Eunice believed in healing touch. As Eugene’s stricken body fought the virulent infection, the Sister held him, rocked him, and sang to him. After that, she promised to come back to the room that housed the most ill children and read aloud a story once she finished her rounds. She had sat closest to little Eugene as she read aloud “Flynnigan Rider and the Pirates of Penzance” for the very first time. It was the first time Eugene had become familiar with the novels.

And though Eugene hadn’t really noticed before (nun’s habits often made it difficult to tell who was older than whom) right now, after he learned he would soon be leaving the orphanage forever that day, it was almost as if Eugene were seeing Sis Eunice for the first time. And for the first time, he noticed how young she truly was. She had a spray of freckles across her face and a little space between her front teeth. A halo of strawberry blonde curls framed her face and perpetually worked their way out of her wimpole. It’s possible Sis Eunice was even younger than Lady Boskin.

He couldn’t help but notice as she had him put on a clean slick-feeling shirt -- a brand-new one, just for him!! -- yet that was only the beginning. Apparently with each chosen child, the adoptive couple provided a freshly purchased outfit from the shops in town. Even Sis Eunice couldn’t help but smile this time as she presented Eugene’s new clothes to him. She asked him to tug open the string holding the paper parcel together. He stared at the parcel, eyes darting between the string and the Sister’s face. “Another present?” he whispered in awe. “For me?” Inside lay a brand new velvet suit. “It’s my favorite color!” he squeaked in delight. “Cornflower blue!” And Sis. Eunice nodded with the same huge smile on her face as him. “Shall I?” she asked softly, reaching into the parcel so he could see the whole suit. Eugene was utterly thunderstruck now. He stared wide-eyed at this beautiful boughten suit which was already quite familiar to him.

“But this is the same…..” he trailed off as Sis Eunice finished for him, “It’s the same suit you’ve had your eye on all year in that shop window?” Mouth agape, Eugene nodded slowly, clearly still in shock.

Eugene recalled how Sis Eunice had begun reading the Flynnigan Rider story with a splash, quite literally, and encompassed the first three chapters. The very first words of the book started with Flynnigan Rider on the mains’l full on the mast of a tall ship, shouting, “As long as I possess air in my lungs, I shall never surrender!!” And right before an enemy bullet could pierce him, Rider had sprinted and dove off the end of the mains’l to plunge down into the sea below. Sis Eunice had taken a fresh mildly damp cloth and spun it above her head, so everyone could feel the ‘splash’. That’s all it took for her to hook every single one of her charges. Sis Eunice had read aloud in every voice. Acted out each scene. She had as many props as feasible. And at the end of chapter 3 that first night, she closed the book amidst many “awwws”, protests, and left the children clamoring for more and some even wanting to help star in the show. Six-year-old Eugene had finally found the strength to speak for the first time in days and tugged Sis Eunice’s robes. “Tomorrow? Please?” he whispered breathlessly. The Sister knelt down close by his ear and pushed his hair away from his fevered brow. “I’ll tell you what,” she said softly. “If you think you can stick around for me by this time tomorrow morning, I promise to come back and read for you. Deal?”

And she turned to the rest of the room, “Tonight’s life lesson from Flynnigan is to hold air in those lungs -- by breathing deeply -- so that you can keep fighting.” Eager to prove to Sis Eunice that he could be brave like Flynnigan Rider, he concentrated on breathing as deeply as he could. Though it was by far the most difficult and painful thing he’d ever done in his young life, he followed through with it nonetheless. And Sis Eunice had returned each morning and night, as promised, to divulge more of Flynnigan’s adventures and life lessons. By the time he was well enough about a week later, she’d ask for Eugene to actually promise to wait for her the next night and bit by bit, little Eugene had found the strength to come back from the brink. And it was all because of one (or was it two?) very special people -- Sis Eunice and Flynnigan Rider.

“Shall we dress you smartly then? It’s not proper for a young man of your new status to be prancing around, half-dressed, you know,” Sis Eunice teased, bringing Eugene back to the present. Usually he’d act silly in return but right now….as soon as he had the new trousers on….Eugene was overcome and couldn’t help but throw his arms around the Sister’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, “so much.” It was the nicest clothing -- the nicest anything -- that anyone had ever given him. And Sis Eunice thought he was misinterpreting who’d provided for him this suit but he wasn’t. “I know it wasn’t your money,” as Eugene was well aware that the nuns scarcely had more than the orphans due in large part to their vows of charity and poverty. And yet he replied, still embracing her, “But I just know that you had something to do with it somehow, Sis Eunice.”

She briefly taught him the tricks with helping Eugene learn how to dress himself up in the fancy new suit. It had a lot of buttons. Big shiny brass ones. She was insistent that none of her charges was going to be reliant on servants to dress them, even after they left the orphanage. Once Eugene was fully dressed in his new comfortably-tailored playsuit, Sis Eunice also presented to him new stockings and new mahogany leather shoes.

Sis Eunice looked adoringly...and then somberly at Eugene as the thunderstruck little boy could not stop studying his own reflection in a full-length mirror.

Though most boys hated baths, he actually liked them (especially when they were warm with fresh water) almost as much as he liked playing in the dirt. He wondered if he’d have his own bed at his new home. He wondered if he’d get to have a mattress, bedclothes, and a pillow every night.

“Well, I suppose it’s time,” said Sis Eunice with a watery smile. The pair of them began to head over to the parish chapel just off the orphanage and across the compound from the rectory. Halfway through the walk, Sis Eunice asked him to continue onto the chapel and said that she’d meet up with him again in a very short few moments. And that was apparently where he was supposed to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin to sign the final papers and officially become their latest son for real. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

After his arrival in the chapel, and within 3 minutes, he heard a very loud crash outside in the corridor to the right of his vantage point near the front of the chapel. He thought maybe he should stay put just in case, but his curiosity got the best of him and he went to investigate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the Office of the Clergy….

Arnie had been called into the clergy office with Fr Francis, Mthr Superior, and Sis Eunice. Eugene had been left outside to stew and fret by himself.

“So you witnessed Eugene Fitzherbert throw a rock at the stained glass?” said Fr Francis imperiously. Arnie’s wide frightened eyes kept darting back and forth between Fr Francis’s unpleasant features and Sis Eunice’s equally terrified eyes. She nodded imperceptibly to encourage Arnie to say yes. Arnie didn’t want to lie but he didn’t want to be the one who got in trouble either. Not to mention….it utterly broke his heart that Eugene was getting adopted and that he wasn’t even gonna say goodbye to Arnie. Thus Arnie looked to the floor and nodded downward at it half-heartedly.

Eugene was brought into the office and not even given a chance to defend nor explain himself.

“Naughty misbehaving boys who destroy priceless works of church art don’t deserve to get adopted,” Fr Francis began imperiously. “Remove that clothing at once. It’s no longer yours and you are no longer fit to wear it.” Poor Eugene recoiled in shock and horror and Sis Eunice stepped in to try and intervene. She shared scared looks with Arnie, even more frightened than before. “There’s no need for that, he hasn’t physically harmed anybody,” Sis Eunice reasoned, “there’s no reason to treat him like he’s a criminal. He just had an accident, that's all.”

Eugene kept backing further and further away, “Not adopted??” was all he could manage to say. “That’s precisely it,” Fr Francis replied coldly. “I’ll tell Lord and Lady Boskin not to follow through with the paperwork because misbehaving children are evil children, and they shan’t have evil brought into their perfect home. Now give back that clothing or I shall turn you in for theft of property.” Sis Eunice’s hands flew to her mouth in open dismay. Arnie had correctly deduced that this was definitely not a development she had anticipated. Now the Mthr Superior and other church lackeys outside the door had begun to put their hands on Eugene in effort to take back his new boughten clothes.

Clearly, not knowing what else to do, Sis Eunice pressed her advantage, knelt down by Eugene's ear, and said, “You must run, Eugene!! Stay as far away from here as you can! Make certain they can’t ever catch you. I’ll take care of the rest.” His eyes bugged out and still he hesitated before Sis Eunice hissed, “GO! NOW!”

Eugene spun on the heel of his new shoe, managed to just barely pull away from the sea of grabbing hands, and sprinted out into the great beyond. P.S. Yes, I have every intention of continuing this. And hopefully even seeing it to completion, like a real "episode", even though the timelapse will be more like a full hour as opposed to 22 minutes? In fact, I've already written a bit more beyond it. I just have to write other things for the time being.....

@gleamful-lanterns @kingreywrites @autumn-ravenclaw

#EAW #Eugene Appreciation Week #Day 1 Childhood #fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #my fanfiction #eugene fitzherbert #Flynn Rider #Arnwaldo Schnitz #lance strongbow

16 notes · View notes

that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick · 3 years ago

Text

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.6k

Fake dating, love at first sight, and all that. The basic fluff palate.

A/N: I had no idea what the lyrics to "Hello Stranger" by Stray Kids were until after I wrote the fic, but the title and vibe made me daydream this whole idea up in the car. You're welcome. (Totally would recommend the official MV too, it just doesn't have English subs)

Another day, another heckling. And this time it had to be on a public subway, apparently.

"All I'm saying is, if you're so rich, why do you have to conveniently forget your credit card every single time we all go out for lunch?" Edward narrowed his eyes at Ling.

"Why bring it when I don't expect to be going out to eat?" Ling said airily. "And you're always so generous when it happens unexpectedly."

Edward grunted. "That's an absolute load of bull and you know it. You can't say that you 'just forgot' to bring money because you 'didn't expect it' when I text the group chat 'Who wants to go out for lunch tomorrow?' and you say 'Ooh! Ooh! Me!'" he squealed in a poor imitation of his friend.

"Your girlfriend would love you for it, you know—paying for dates," Ling continued, ignoring Ed's accusations. He gasped. "Oh, that's right! You don't have a girlfriend! Perhaps if you weren't so quarrelsome, you could manage to win the heart of a lady."

"Who are you calling so puny that he's gonna die alone and have weeds all over his grave that no one will bother to pull?" Ed screeched.

Russell finally spoke up from his seat at the end of the row. "Ed, he didn't say anything about your height. He may be a cheapskate, but he didn't make a dig at your height. For once."

"Yeah, that's right! No fair changing the subject, Ling. This discussion was about how you're a little rich boy who always makes his friends pay for his own food," Ed huffed.

"Why quibble over such a minor expense? How expensive could a burger be? Twenty dollars?" The other two boys gaped at Ling, but he only kept going. "Besides, I'm far more interested in the current topic. Edward, you know I care for you deeply—"

"Fat chance."

"—but with your disposition, I doubt you could get a girlfriend if you tried!"

"Now, you wait just a second! You don't know squat about my love life! In fact, I could—"

Out of nowhere, a blonde girl knelt on the seat next to Ed's and slipped an arm around his shoulders.

"Hello, stranger." She winked. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming this way today? I know you're shy about our relationship, but you could have just told them, you know. You don't have to give into their teasing just for me, Eddie-boo."

All three boys gawked at her—Russell and Ling because of the fact that Ed actually had a girlfriend and Ed because of the fact that he didn't. Except now he had to pretend that this strange, hot blonde girl was his girlfriend.

So he choked. Then he recovered just enough to say, "Babe, no. I was just about to tell them. These pea-brains," he glared at them, "barely let me get a word in edgewise. Please believe me, babe."

"Of course I believe you, pretty boy." Her gaze made all coherent thoughts fly from his head. "But even if they are pea-brains, I should probably introduce myself." She tapped his nose. The buzzing feeling lingered long after the tip of her finger left it. "I'm Winry." She beamed at the other two boys. Ed's stomach twisted. He wasn't jealous, was he? He probably just ate something bad at lunch. Maybe Ling slipped something in his burger…

Ling grinned wickedly. "Lovely to meet you, Winry. How did you two meet? It must have been quite a job getting this one to agree to go out with you, what with his charming personality and all."

"Hm, how did we meet, babe? It all happened very gradually—knowing each other's faces, then knowing each other's names, then small talk here and there. Then before you know it, we were having deeper conversations as close friends, and then suddenly, we were dating! He's a real softie once you get him to open up," she said, ruffling his bangs.

"Winry!" He cleared his throat. "Babe, you don't have to tell them everything."

"Oh, man!" Russell guffawed, wiping away a tear. "This girl must have you whipped, Ed."

"Something like that," Ed muttered.

Suddenly, the train lurched and threw Winry forward, her arm around Ed's shoulders directing her course straight for his lap. They stared at each other in panic for a few moments. Then Winry laughed nervously. "Looks like I fell for you, huh, babe?"

Edward slapped his forehead. "Really? Fell for me? That's so terrible, I might break up with you just for that."

"Nah, you like me too much," Winry said, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Edward's face turned a violent shade of red. Pretty girl. Flirting. At him. Dream. It was a dream. Dreams don't have lips with that much detail. Can't look at friends. They'll laugh. Different topic. Periodic table. Periodic tables are simple. Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium…

"Like I said," Russell smirked. "Whipped."

The subway car lurched again as the intercom announced their arrival at the stop, and Ed's arms flew to keep Winry from being thrown again. Just as quickly as he had held her close, he loosened his grip. For a moment, her eyes widened and a faint blush rose on her cheeks. She shifted on his lap.

"This is my stop. Nice meeting you guys!" Winry leaned in to whisper into Ed's ear. "I probably caused you more trouble than I solved. I'm so sorry." She offered him a half smile and slid off his lap.

His legs somehow felt bare without her weight, his arms cold without her warmth. How could he just let her walk away? But how could he just stalk a stranger? Fortunately, all intelligent thought had left him long ago.

"See you guys later! Better priorities have come up than messing around with you losers!"

Edward heard silence, then laughter behind him, but he kept his eyes forward as he followed Winry out into the station. Crap, what had he gotten himself into? He was such an idiot. His idiot mouth and his idiot legs had been faster than his idiot brain and he was about to be in big, big trouble with this really beautiful, really nice stranger. The doors closed behind them.

"Look, I'm really, really sorry. I don't know what got into me. I don't know why I went along with it. I don't just do this sort of thing, it just happened. If there's—" Winry cut Ed off.

"You went along with it because I started it. What were you supposed to do? If anything, it's my fault for putting you in an awkward position. It was gutsy and presumptuous and I should have just let your conversation happen. I don't exactly go around pretending to be random people's girlfriends either. Some weird gut reaction in me just...did it. I...I don't even know what to say for myself. I made you lie to your friends and now you're going to have to tell them that and...I'm. I'm so sorry." She raked her hand into her ponytail and avoided his gaze.

"Can we consider ourselves forgiven, then?"

She met his eyes with a slight laugh. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good, so...um…are you actually single?" He sighed and mumbled, "man, I don't normally do this," and continued, "Because I'd love to take you out for real if you are." His pulse thundered through every blood vessel in his body while she opened and closed her mouth and blushed. It would be cute if his entire being wasn't vibrating waiting for her response.

"Y–yeah," she breathed.

"Gah," Ed rubbed the back of his neck. "Of course you're not single, why would you be? I mean, look at you—"

"No! No. I'm. I'm not single. I mean! I'm not in a—I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh."

"I'd...I'd love to go out with you, Edward."

"Wow," he finally managed.

"What?" Winry smiled at him in confusion.

"I really scored big today and I don't even know how." He grinned crookedly. "Was something about my complete lack of competent speech attractive or something? Nobody just agrees to going on a date with a complete stranger. Your name is actually Winry, right?"

She laughed. "Yes, my name is actually Winry. I didn't really have a lot of time to come up with a fake name or anything. As for going out with a complete stranger… I don't know. I just know I can trust you. I figure, why not go for it? And, um. I wasn't entirely joking when I called you 'pretty boy.'" She bit her lip and smiled at her shoes.

Ed's mind blanked for what seemed the billionth time that day. "You're the—you're the pretty one!" he squawked.

"Well, then...if I'm the pretty one, can I be the one to ask you for your number?"

"What?" He wasn't sure whether he'd been shaken out of his mental fog or pushed further into it. "I mean, yes! Um, here it is." He fumbled with his phone and showed her his contact information.

"Thanks." She smiled with all the light the universe could give her. "I'll...see you soon then?"

"Are you busy right now?" Ed blurted out. "Or is taking you out to dinner too soon?"

"Oh! No, not at all. I'm kind of craving Chinese takeout, actually, if that's okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's totally okay. Just. One thing." Winry raised her eyebrows in accession. "Never call me 'Eddie-boo' again."

#I'm planning a follow up fic if/when I get the kick to write it~#fma #fma fanfic #fma fic #my fic #my writing #edwin #fma modern au

15 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 5 years ago

Text

Damienette Arranged Marriage: Part 1

Okay. I fell into the Maribat AU/Damienette ship hole and I find it quite comfortable down here. But too many fics are the same and I decided to try something else. I am awful at writing romance and prefer action, but alas I will practice on this. It might be awful, but that’s only one more reason to continue writing. I want to evolve.

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from and me for the plot.

Damiennete arranged marriage: Part 1

Marinette slowly opened her eyes. She was confused. Last thing she remembered before blacking out was a sting on the back of her neck. She was just returning from school. It hasn’t been even a week since the ‘Miracle Queen’ incident. For now, the miracle box (now in its new form) and hidden in old phonograph in her room. It was one of parting gifts from Master Fu. He wanted to make sure that she was not in any more trouble.

Oh kwami! What if Hawkmoth figured I am the new guardian. And then he would know I am by extension Ladybug. And then he could get my miraculous. And if he got my miraculous nobody would be able to stop Akuma and he would eventually overpower Chat Noir and then he would get the wish and probably he would wish to conquer the world or even the universe and it would be all my fault.

Her train of thoughts was running several hundred miles per hour until it finally crashed. She moaned. Only then, she finally got the idea to look around. She was in some dark cell. There was only small window, but it was too high for her to reach. The walls were made from large stones that were perfectly polished. There was no way to break them. She turned to the other side and noticed stairs leading to large and heavy metal doors. They were reinforced enough that she doubted anyone could smash them. There was no way out as far as she could figure out.

“I don’t know what to do Tikki… Tikki? Tikki!” Only then it dawned on her that she had no idea where her Kwami was. The sedatives were slowly wearing off, but there was still a lingering dizziness. She had hard time thinking.

There was no answer. She moved her hand to check if her earrings were in place and she was glad to find them still there. But her Kwami was gone. She had no idea what was going on. If they didn’t take her miraculous, it meant that either they didn’t know she was wearing one or they were after her for some other reason. And for the love of Tikki she could not figure out any other reason why she would find herself in such place except for her being Ladybug. Okay, she might know some celebrities and design for them, but nobody would really bat an eye if someone captured her. Okay, her parents would, but they were not important. They are important to her, but they could never pay a ransom. Now if someone captured Adrien it was another story. He was in fact captured several times, but she wasn’t a famous model…

Her thoughts started to drift into several directions. After her initial panic attack passed, she started to look around her cell more closely. The place looked old, like a dungeon in some castle. There might have been a secret exit like in one of Video Games she liked so much. Or maybe there was some loose screw in the doors… She walked to the large block of metal and tried to analyze its structure. After good fifteen minutes, she gave up. It was impossible to dismantle this from the inside. She turned and noticed that from this height, she could actually look through the window. But what she saw was not really conforming.

The snow-storm was raging outside. And there were only rocky mountain sides visible. No houses whatsoever. the idea of Akuma attack flashed through her mind, but she dismissed it. There would be some more traces even if she was only some side victim. But at the same time it meant she was no longer in Paris. Someone not only kidnapped her, but also moved her away from her home city. She was in some snowy mountains with no idea how she got there or why was she there. The feeling of powerlessness caught up with her. She curled on her small, uncomfortable bed and started to cry.

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

Marinette was awaken by someone turning the key in the doors. She opened her eyes and quickly sat up. Previously, she cried herself to sleep, but now she wanted to be ready. When you spend most of your time as a superhero running over rooftops, even if the skill is magical, you still tend to retain muscle memory after three years of constant training. Every day. For at least an hour. Maybe she was not in peak physical condition, but Marinette was definitely not weak.

A woman walked inside. She was wearing tight black suit with upper part unzipped, revealing some of her skin. She had a sword attached to her back. Her silky brown hair was loose and curly. Her face was flawless. Marinette would call her epitome of beauty. When the woman walked into the light, the girl noticed she carried a holster that probably housed a gun.

A sword and a gun!? What is going on here…

Luckily, before she could start to panic, the woman sat moved and allowed another person to enter. Marinette used this as an opportunity to try and focus on something else. The man who entered was wearing a loose yellow robes with blue sash. He had typical asian complexion and face, together with mustache and pointy beard like that of Master Fu, except he was actually tall. The man was about three inches taller than the woman.

What really calmed Marinette was that he bowed to her.

“Greetings, Great Guardian. I am sorry we must meet in such circumstances, but the time is of the essence.” The man spoke to her in flawless French.

Okay. So I am in the Temple of the Order of the Guardians. Marinette calmed herself, but then she started to panic again. Oh my Kwami! I am in the Temple. Temple is in Tibet. I am in Tibet. I am in Tibet! That’s not in France! She took three deep breath before looking at them again. She bowed to the man.

“Uh… Hi?”

“I know this is confusing, but we are in dire need of your help Great Guardian.” The man spoke again. Marinette turned to the woman who was with him, but she had expression so emotionless that one could mistake her for wax statue.

“What do you need of me? And why do you call me the ‘Great Guardia’? I am still just learning…”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Wang Fu did not reveal to you who he was?” The man in robes was confused.

“No…?”

“Before the temple fell, he was training to one day lead the Order of the Guardians. He would become the next Master. We awaited his return after the Temple was restored, but only thing we received was a message stating that he named you his successor, losing memory in the process.”

“But… I thought he never finished his training…” Marinette was slowly feeling overwhelmed with this situation.

“Yes, but sadly during the attack the previous Great Guardian surrendered his position so that Wang Fu could restart our Order. Now you inherited this position.”

“Enough chit-chat.” The woman finally spoke. She sounded irritated.

“Yes. We need to proceed with the Ceremony.” The man agreed.

“What Ceremony? What’s going on?” The girl stiffened and took defensive stance.

“I am sorry, Great Guardian, but for Order to survive, we must take drastic steps.”

The woman snapped her finger and two man dressed all black with masks covering everything but eyes entered the room. They were holding ropes.

“Wait! What are you doing!?”

“The order has fallen. Since the Temple was restored, we’ve been under constant attack. For the greater good, I had to make a deal. An alliance that will allow us to still guard the Miraculi. The League of Assassins would eventually win the siege. We did not have resources… I am sorry Great Guardian. I have failed.”

“Wha…!” Marinette had no idea what was going on. But when the two masked men approached her closer, she didn’t stand there passively. With a roundhouse kick she knocked one of them instantly and then a quick punch in solar plexus took the other one. She dashed between the two remaining opponents and tried to lunge for the doors, only to be stopped by more assassins. Behind her walked the woman and aimed her gun at her.

“Sorry girl, but it’s too important. You will do as commanded. It’s for the best anyway.” Marinette wanted to fight, but then something hit the back of her head. She saw black spots before passing away.

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

This time, Marinette woke up tied in a large hall in front of stone stairs. She was kneeling and couldn’t move. This habit of blacking out was really annoying. She noticed a golden cage next to her with Tikki inside. The parisian hero wanted to call to her friend, but a sound to her left got her attention. She spotted a boy with ruffy black hair and deep green eyes. He was also tied and kneeling. He wore black armor with golden ornaments and red cape. He did have a sword at his belt, but there was no way to reach it with hands behind his back. If only she could move closer to him…

“Oh great! The sleeping princess has awaken. Now maybe my mother will finally tell me what is going on!” He snarled at her in English before looking up. Marinette followed his gaze and saw two people appearing at the top of the stairs. One of the Guardians in his robes and the woman with gun and sword. She was holding a richly decorated cup.

“For centuries, the league of Assassins battled with the Order of the Guardians.” The woman was speaking in some strange language that Marinette didn’t know how she understood. “Neither side could get any advantage. But then, the Order fell. They were wiped out by their own creation. And now, after almost two hundred years, a great magic restored them, but in weaken state. They knew that they would not be able to hold us without their strongest warriors, so they suggested peace. A unification. Under common leadership, two organizations will thrive once more!”

“To ensure that neither side will exploit the other, “The Guardian continued where Assassin dropped. “Following the old tradition we shall bind the ruling dynasties. For now, through this union we ensure alliance and truce, but once they fully assume their roles, they shall together lead a new organization, stronger and more powerful than any before.”

Marinette looked in the eyes of the Guardian. Her emotions were bubbling and she felt betrayed. Her mentor lost his memories not so long ago, leaving her with all the burden by herself. The only one with who she could now talk about it was her Kwami. Now, for a small moment she hoped that the Order would help her. That with their assistance they could defeat Hawkmoth, but they instead kidnapped her and now they want to marry her to complete stranger. She took one more look at the boy. he was frowning and trying to get out of the bonds, but there was no way. Tikki next to her was also tied and there were some runes on the cage. She was not sure, but her instincts told her this was designed to keep Kwami bound at least for some time.

“Don’t worry Marinette.It will be alright.” Tikki tried to conform the girl, but she didn’t sound really all that convincing. Instead, the sadness, anger and much more different negative emotions overcame her. She zoomed out and closed herself in. Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

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

Damian really did not like this day. He woke up in this mess, tied, dressed in the official armor that he used to wear as an Heir to the position of Demon’s Head. The feeling of dizziness quickly passed, but only after his mother started talking the pieces clicked. He remembered the tales about the Order of the Guardians. He heard on how they disappeared long ago. Looks like they returned. He gave a side-glance to the girl. She was his age, dressed in a dark gray blazer with rolled-up sleeves; the inside of the blazer was lined in white with pink polka dots and it had black trimming. Underneath, she wore a white t-shirt with black stitching and a flower design below the collar. The design itself had pink flowers and black leaves. She wore pink rolled up jeans and pink ballet flats with dark red soles. She had eyeliner around her eyes and sports black earrings. It was miracle her makeup did not smear around her face. He then took a closer look at her. If he was to guess, she was slightly smaller than him. She had hair in color of midnight blue which worked well with her bluebell eyes. Her hair was pulled back into two pigtails, but they were messed and unruly, probably because of conditions she was kept in. Internally he growled. She was just a girl, tossed into it. The small cage next to her did not escape her attention. The small creature that looked a bit like some ladybug was trying to give the girl some comfort. She looked unimpressive for someone who would one day lead organization that could rival the League of Assassins. Or be my wife… The idea sounded ridiculous in his head, but he didn’t voice it. As strange as it may be, if he didn’t hurry it would happen. The tie was strong and tight. Strong rope was locking his hand in place in such position that even if he dislocated his thumb, it would still not help. He was completely immobilized.

Marriage ceremony in the League was always short. Thalia spoke some words, then the Guardian added some more and she walked downstairs with the cup. Damian noticed green substance in it. Instantly, his stomach rumbled. It was water from Lazarus Pit. It could only mean that some dark magic was involved this time. Usually it was just a wine, with occasional dose of poison if his grandfather demanded it, either to test them or straight up terminate. They had to drink it all between the two of them.

“May this union prosper between you, your families and friends. In this, we take the first step in uniting the two powers, for you and your descendants to lead.” Talia spoke in the language of the League. Damian was actually surprised when the Guardian was also speaking in this language during the ceremony, but he had no idea who else was there. He couldn’t really turn around to look at the audience.

“By the power vested in me by the Order of Guardians, I bless the union and hope that you will find peace and happiness with each other.” Marinette was sobbing quietly, long since drained of all tears. Damian scowled. She seemed weak. He felt the need to protect her and yet he could do nothing. It irritated him almost as much as when Drake painted his outfit black and replaced the Robin symbol with Coffee Bean. For someone constantly on caffeine he could run surprisingly well.

First, the two adults walked to Marinette. She was in too much shock to respond. Her whole life, her whole future, everything she knew was right now crumbling. She would never marry Adrien. She would never even confess her love to him. Her mind kept creating different scenarios about what would happen after the ceremony. Would she be shipped to the Guardian Temple. Was this the Temple? Would she have to live with the League of Assassins? Maybe in addition to marriage they would make the boy live with Guardians while she lived here. Or there. She had no idea where she was. How would they treat her. She was their leader, but yet she felt more like a slave, forced to do what he is told. She didn’t even notice when they put the chalice to her lips and make her drink some of the substance. She swallowed the green liquid and felt it spread warm through her, revitalizing each bone in her body. She felt a tingle of pain, in every part of her body, but it was only momentary.

Damian planned on resisting to the best of his abilities. Maybe spill the Lazarus Water from the Chalice or headbutt his mother into unconsciousness. He was mildly surprised when she handled the cup to the Guardian and leaned to him, whispering in Arabic. “If you try anything funny, we will kill this girl and then murder every single guardian in existence. for once just do as you are told.” He stiffened, quickly looking at the girl who was now sitting a bit more calm, but still anxious. He did not want her to die because of him, but allowing the League of Assassins to get even more power was also bad. He had to make a choice quick. The guardian approached him with the chalice and slowly lifted it to his lips. Damian looked at the girl once more and felt some pain in his heart. She didn’t deserve any of this. She looked so… normal. With a sight, he accepted the other half of the liquid, allowing it to travel through him and revitalize his body into the peak condition, fixing any damage he might have had.

With that, the ceremony ended. there were no more words, no more nothing. Some of the mooks untied him and Marinette. Talia walked to the scared girl.

“Now. I hope you will be good for my son. And neither of you ever think of breaking this.” She threatened them. “If you do, the League will return to war with the Order of the Guardians. And you will both be killed.” She let the threat hang in the air before walking away. The Guardian left already, leaving Marinetter alone with Damian.

“I am so sorry they dragged you into this!” She started to apologize to him and trying to hug him. His instincts told him to push her away, but he was too stunned to follow on it. This girl was actually apologizing him for her life being ruined? Just where did his mother find her?

#fanfic #fanfiction #crossover #maribat #maribat au #damienette #marinette x damian #arranged marriage au #maridami #order of the guardians #league of assassins #guardian!marinette

786 notes · View notes