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whambambatfam · 6 days ago

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Webs of a Wing

Chapter 2

I wanted to post once a month and had this chapter ready to go when I posted the first. Then I suddenly decided to add a bunch more a few days along and almost didn't post on time... It's 12:10 but, close enough. Also, I fought for my life trying to figure out how to tag people for some reason..

Anyway! Founding your family time with the slay girls. My knowledge in the MCU is as vast as in DCU so, quite small.

I hope you like it!

Reader ages 10 - 12

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It starts to feel less disappointing to see that they never show up. Of course, Alfred always tries to make the time; he's your number one support.

You didn't ask for everyone's attention, you didn't want it, only theirs. Not looked up to on a pedestal, watched over from afar, like A doll on the shelf. All you asked for is a connection, real and human.

Yet, you could never achieve it, so you stopped trying. You stopped reaching out to hands that were never extended to you. If you're not wanted, then you won't bother. You won't waste your time. You had Alfred when you could, another observer in their lives. In this, you find your own kind of family, away from the manor, forming connections and bonds that follow you through your school years. One girl in particular was a catalyst for accepting others into your life.

“Hey! Can you give your opinion on the after-school club uniforms?” You're halted in the halls by a redhead gripping your shoulders.

You blink at her owlishly, “Uh, wha-?”

Noting your confusion, she introduces herself, “Ah, name’s Mary, Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ.” Her arm slips around your shoulder as she guides you along.

“Um, hi, Mj.” You relax ever so slightly when you give her your first name and she doesn't immediately pounce on you for a surname.

Wiping out a notepad, she finally explains, “So, I write the school paper’s fashion articles and I've noticed you join, like, a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah..” Tilting your head at her, you’re still very lost as to why you were the one singled out.

But she just smiles, “Come with me. I need to know about everything they make you wear.” She says as if she plans to drag you away.

She wanted you to show her every blazer, letterman, vest, and so forth. Not ready to bring a stranger to the mansion she compromises. Choosing to meet after your clubs. It's nice to have someone waiting for you, other than Alfred. You don't wish to be her model, to her disappointment. Instead, opting to go behind the camera. Mj squeals in delight as you give her free range on the available gear. Styling and posing a hundred times for each uniform.

You've come to know her as a kind-hearted, fairly popular, carefree girl. One who often weaponized these traits to her advantage, especially when it comes to getting a good story. After her article on club fashion is released, a big hit around school, she doesn't let you go. Insisting she needs someone to help her with photos for her real passion, modeling. That's how you found yourself snapping shots of MJ throughout the school day and between clubs. You would feel like a creeper if it wasn't for the fact that she practically demands it.

On occasion, this has left you at odds with those who thought themselves better company for your friend to keep. She wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, not that you minded it all that much. You didn't have anyone, throwing themselves at your feet, over the wealth and fame over a name. One you didn't even feel the right to associate yourself with. Instead, you were just another middle schooler who was strangely acquainted with someone who others saw as highly desirable

It cemented your friend when she asked you to pick her up for a weekend shoot on a small bridge at the park. The modest one-floor house was surrounded by an unkempt yard and a rusted link chain fence. A rather loud argument pictures the walls as you watch every bit of movement you can see behind the crumpled curtains. Your fingers are anxiously twisting the strap slung over your shoulder, bag packed generously by Alfred with two lunches. Finally, hurling one last shout over her shoulder, Mj emerged. Her arm links with yours and before you can speak she’s all but dragging you down the street.

She didn't say anything until you two were in the middle of setting up your first shot. stumbling over her words, she tries to tell you that what you heard wasn’t really that bad, that her dad just had a few drinks, that really they weren’t even yelling, and actually it wasn’t something to worry about if you are worried. There was an abnormal casualty of which she spouts anything to pacify whatever she thinks your reaction will be. Only the deep sorrow in her eyes told you the truth of the pain and strife she was pushing down.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You peer from behind the camera,

“Can I just.. complain about it?”

An appreciative smile pulls at her lips as you continue to capture her image. You didn’t expect an explanation, didn’t need one. She stopped trying to reason. Instead, she spoke, and you listened. Then, everything came almost at once, from her sister leaving to her father drinking and even her mother's illness. For a moment, you wonder if your father could do anything for her. You just as quickly push the naive thought away, why would such a man do something like that for a friend of yours?

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile as she clicks through the camera. “You know, you have a knack for catching my good side.” She tucks it away before tossing you a juice box from the bag.

“All your sides are good sides.” You hum, poking your straw through it.

This earns you an unstifled giggle, “Good answer, tiger.” Mj winks at you before tucking the camera back into its carry case, “Seriously, you've mastered the cam. Not that I want to lose my personal photographer, but have you considered joining the paper?”

You suck the last of the juice from the box with a raised brow, “I dunno, ‘might have to drop a few other things..” Swishing the contents as if contemplating. Really thought, it was an easy answer and you already decided to drop most of the clubs you only joined to fill time. Not to mention you were already familiar with helping and it was fun to work with your friend.

“Come on, me and you, together. I’ll do the writing and posing for pictures while you do the editing and taking pictures.” She clutches your hands in hers, fingers intertwined, “We’ll literally be the hottest journalist team.” Her emerald eyes are wide and pleading as she gazes up at you.

“Don't let her trick you into doing her work for her.” The scoff of another girl comes from behind you.

You recognized her as Gwen Stacy, another girl from your grade. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she makes her way onto the small bridge. The two of you had been using the foliage-obscured spot for your photo shoot. Coming to stand before them, blue eyes scanning Mj up and down. Mary Jane crosses her arms giving the scrutinizing look back.

She scoffs at the blond, “How do you know they don't want to?”

Gwen raises a brow at her, “Who would?” She offers back with a scoff of her own.

You jump in before proverbial knives can meet throats. “Actually, I like taking pictures for MJ.”

Gwen cocks her head at you, “Then join the photography club.”

Mj huffs, “Not if you want to actually, ya know, do something with your life.”

You step in again as the two wind up to take more jabs at each other. “Hey, um, ‘think I'll stick to what I've got..” Lifting the camera to Gwen she furrows her brows looking closer at your picture, “I've never even owned a camera before, but I'm having fun with Mj and I think doing the paper could be nice.”

She slips the device from your grasp, clicking through each picture. “You're actually really good..” Peeking up at you, she smiles sheepishly, “Can you take pictures of me too?”

While the two have their differences every now and then, you were always together. You left most of your clubs, having only picked them up for that void made by your family. Now you have people to fill the holes that they left behind.

While you'd never met, you’re familiar with the GCPD Captain, through your family's close ties with the commissioner. Who would have guessed that you would find yourself in his living room as Gwen dragged you along? Shaking his head with amusement as he watches he shut the two of you away in her room. Gwen had offered a hangout to help you with your scheduling if you helped her with her own. It was interesting to see all the things she was balancing. A focus in stem with an emphasis in chemistry but, with a blossoming interest in modeling.

Something she admits sheepishly, revealing the offer to do a small shoot she's been recruited for, “I sent in a headshot you did, and well I didn’t think I'd actually get it. Who knows..” She shrugged nonchalantly despite the turbulence on her face, “Maybe it'll help me with college too.” Legs stretching out across her bed, she nudges your shared piles of junk aside, her feet resting at your side.

You mirror her positing from the opposite end of her bed, “Collage? already?? I don't think we have to take it so seriously yet.” Collecting the pile of disheveled papers in your hands, you shuffle them off to the side to be put away later. “Not that getting in would be hard for you. I guess you already know what you want to be but, it's okay to have other interests.”

Smiling at her with reassurance infects her with a pull at her own, “I have a pretty good idea, yeah, and that's what I'm gonna shape myself into. Starting now.” Cerulean eyes scan over your current disastrous schedule of overbooking and under-appreciation, “Stretching yourself so thin isn’t going to make you.. well, whatever you’re trying to become.”

“I just want to be somebody.” It’s your turn to poorly shrug your worries off as if they never really sat all that heavily, to begin with.

“You of all people wanna be famous?” Gwen misinterprets, raising a golden brow at you.

Your face scrunches at the mere suggestion, “God no!” Busying yourself with sifting out your less favorable activities. Handing over everything you planned to keep up with, to the bewildered yet, inturged blond across from you.

Martial arts, Gymnastics, journalism, photography, coding, knitting, and you're still handing her more.. Looking them all over, she shakes her head with a chuckle, “You know what they say. Jack of all trades, they’re master of none.”

A hand slips over your head, rubbing at the back of your neck, “I just wanna be.. Worthwhile, I guess? I’ve just never felt like I was enough.” She set you with a concerned look that paints heat over the tops of your ears, “But I actually like these!”

She shuffles through your handful of flyers, sign-ups, papers, and the like for each, “Well, there’s more to that saying about a jack of all trades, right?” Scooting over to sit beside you, she bumps your shoulder with a soft smile. “They’re often better than a master of one.”

“Thanks.. I think?” Laughing, you bump her shoulder back. You get the sentiment at least, you think..

“Still might be good to cut some of these out. Don’t push yourself so hard.” Lifting flyers for both photography and the school paper, “I thought you were gonna pick one?”

Days spent without Alfred or the girls were the hardest. Roaming long halls, hearing your father and brother, who've been arguing more and more. Robin's role in leading his own team had left the house feeling emptier than usual. Hardly ever crossing paths with one another. Lately, it's even been putting a strain on the dynamic duo's relationship. You wonder if they noticed when you stopped reaching out. Not likely when they are falling apart themselves. Your little band of miscreants always softened the blow of coming home to the lonely Manor, you'd always see them tomorrow...

You spot your blond just outside the lunchroom doors. Nose stuck in her book before you settle in next to her, “Where's MJ?” You ask, pulling your bag from your shoulder.

“Ugh, late as always.” Snapping her book shut, she sighs, leaning into your side. “Are we supposed to hold up everything for her all the time?”

The two of you sit chatting as children flood to and from the cafeteria. You talk long enough for Gwen to get over Mj being late again, just in time for her to show.

“Heyyyy! Sorry, sorry!” The redhead plops between them and hooks an arm over each of her friends' shoulders. She pokes Gwen's puffed cheeks as she huffs, “Oh, don't look so grumpy!”

“We've got to wait for you, like, every day!”

Mary Jane shrugs, “So?”

You roll your eyes, “So, can't you ever get here on time?”

“It's called fashionably late for a reason.” Gwen gives you a look that you return, and the two of you walk away. Mj gasps, hurrying to catch up, “Wait!!”

They may be a bit dysfunctional but they were yours. Before you know it, they're closer to your heart than your so-called family. Alfred even tells you he's delighted to see you making these connections. Happy to host you and your friends when you finally decide to bring them around. Your little room on the far end of the manor is cleaned from top to bottom. An array of treats is accompanied by frequent check-ins, which led to many, many questions each time around.

“You've really had to spend so much time alone here?” Gwen makes herself comfortable in your desk chair.

“Oh, well, I have Alfred.” You scoot back on your bed, back pressed against the headboard. With a sigh your head bumps the wall, “... most of the time anyway.”

“This place is crazy..” MJ pulls open your closet, fuming and ready to tear apart your meager wardrobe. “I can't believe you're actually a Wayne. Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne, why is he the worst?”

Grimacing as her chair spins slowly the blond grumbles, “Not that surprising from some fancy stuck-up rich boy.”

Green eyes flicker through each quick swish of a hanger, “Why doesn't everyone know? Don't people like that usually have a big announcement or whatever?” Mj turns those critical emeralds to you.

Slouching into yourself to escape the gaze, “I did not want that.”

Unimpressed with the answer, she huffs, “Still there have to be people who know about you, right? Your family is, like, super famous.”

“Wait!” Gwen perks up, feet hitting the ground to halt her cycle, “I think I have heard people talk about you.”

Heat claws its way up the back of your neck, catching onto your ears. “Wh- huh? Really??”

“Yeah, they call you- uh..” Her sudden realization seems to die in her throat, “Well, they call you, um..” Gwen combs a hand through her hair, aquamarines darting away from you, “Wayne unwanted... cause the Wayne's have never acknowledged you publicly.”

Mary Jane scoffs, “Or personally, apparently.”

You've only lived through this your whole life yet hear that you're known for your misfortune, to be watched but never seen...

The two of them were across the room before you even realized you were crying. They cuddled up on either side of you, squeezing you between them as they apologized. “No, no, it's okay..” You giggle through the sting in your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Gwen gives you an almost offended look. “It is not okay.”

“You deserve so much better!” Mj tights her grip until you're begging for air.

They didn't make you feel othered like your family name or the intimidating manor. You knew they saw you, not a name, statue, money, power. Just you.

“Hey, would you..” Swallowing the nerves catching in your throat, you slide the paper across your lunch table. “Would you guys like to come to my competition?”

Mj snatches the paper up from the table, “Of course!”

The other scans the sheet with intrigue, “We'll be there, promise.” Gwen takes the paper from the redhead's hands, smoothing out her crinkles.

It always felt better to have someone there to root for you. Tonight, Alfred would be busy handling things for Bruce's ‘business trip’. Not that it matters because now, you have friends.

After the winners are called and you can part, Mary Jane is the first at your side. “You were great!”

“Really? Thanks..” Your face burns. You always felt Alfred was just being biased in his praises.

She swoops you up into a hug, “Absolutely, way to go, tiger!” Yet, it feels more real coming from your friends.

“Though, I don't really get it.” Gwen muses from the side, “You're such a wallflower. You hate the spotlight.”

The warmth in your cheeks raises again, “Yeah, well, so?”

Gwen's lips quirked into a frown, “So, why do these?”

“Seriously, like, no one's making you..” Mj raises a brow at you, “right?”

“No, I just.. I wish someone would come.” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “Just one of them. Even once.” No matter how they push you away, there's always that part of you that still wants them to come around.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder, “Well, you're great so, so... Fuck those guys!” The curse slips from Gwen in a half whisper of juvenile rebellion.

Another arm joins the first around your shoulders, “Exactly, Fuck them!” Mj giggles, grading on the use of profanity.

“Heh, yeah.. Fuck ‘em.” You smile despite the way your ears burn in superfluous fear of being scolded by Alfred for your language.

Nights were more exciting with your newfound love of photography. You collected pictures of the best and worst of Gotham. From sparkling main streets to eerily dark alleyways. Especially the growing stock of your star muses, Batman and Robin. You started putting together profiles from them, juxtaposing their day and night personas. Filing in the scraps of knowledge you've gathered from chasing after them. You kept the folders stuffed in your closet; embarrassed by your almost obsessive habit over people who disregard your existence.

Despite how he may treat you, when Dick came home with a bullet in his shoulder from the Joker, you cried. It felt silly when you realized they were falling. What was there to mourn if.. Alfred had been teaching you to take care of bigger wounds. You pleaded to assist his tending of your brother. Promising to feign cluelessness on your knowledge of the.. happenstance.

It wasn't until after his wound was cleared of debris and disinfected, that he noticed you. Trembling little fingers press the gause to his broad shoulder as Alfred prepares the bandage. His hand comes up to rest over yours, steadying it. Head snapping up to meet his gaze, there's something lurking in those sapphires of his.

A smile cracks its way deliberately across his weary face. It's too endearing of a look for him to give you. This was the first time it felt so sincere. The warmth of it burned at your frayed nerves. Sparked at cool embers of hope that he'd come around to you. Only when he's nearly died. It couldn't be real, but it hurt too much to be a dream.

“Thanks, Birdie. You didn't have to.” Dick's praise burns at your ears. It must be blood loss, a near-death experience, or something.

It feels too unnatural. You mumble out quietly, “Of course I did.”

Alfred relieves you of the tension, wrapping the bandage around and across. You’re left to stand off to the side before eventually being shuffled out of the room. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting until you finally step out of the room. You immediately miss it, realizing you've let such a rare moment of connection slip away. The sudden tender moment only made it harder to hear he'd left shortly after. He moved two states away to New York, leaving Robin behind for good.

He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

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