Hi everyone! Welcome to my maribat blog! I originally made this to be able to keep you updated on my fic Paris Love but uhh that didn’t work out. So now I mostly just post incorrect quotes here, which y’all seem to love anyway!
Almost everything here is maribat related, but occasionally I’ll also reblog something from just MLB or DC! I’m not very good at being online, but if you want to talk feel free to hit me up, I love meeting new people! My askbox is also always open
Well, I think that’s it. Thanks for stopping by and I hope you’ll have a lovely day!
ok so as a guy who was a miraculous ladybug fan in a past life i dont think maribat crossovers should happen because shes dating one of the robin boys or because her biological father was secretly bruce wayne all along or anything. i think they should happen because damian gets bored enough to want to go investigate the magic situation in france but bruce says You are 14, you are not going to france by yourself. and damians like WHATEVER and makes jon fly him to france and jon agrees because he really wants to try a macaron and damian's entire family is like Goddd he's another fucking quest again isnt he. Motherfucker. and while in france damian catches wind of the akuma class so he fucking buys a house in paris and lives there and forges a whole fake identity and everything and just starts attending college francoise dupont. and marinette's like I don't like his vibes... Something's off... and everyone's like Yeah whatever Marinette. on an unrelated note robin has been spotted in france during akuma attacks and he and ladybug keep getting into fistfights because it turns out that ladybug is so so easy to ragebait and robin finds ragebaiting so so funny. chat noir is busy dying for the millionth time. bruce is like What the fuck is Robin doing in Paris. but doesnt bother going to get him or anything bc you know bruce wouldnt
Damian strained his eyes in the darkness of his apartment. The atmosphere was unusually quiet for this time of day. Normally Marinette would be buzzing about, still somehow full of energy despite a day spent submersed in a creative cloud. He didn’t even hear any of the soft music she played when she was having a particularly difficult day.
Just silence.
Concerned, he made his way through the empty rooms until he came to the door of her studio, shut tight, a dim light glowing from underneath. He knocked, and though no answer came, he could hear her crying softly on the other side.
“Marinette?”
He pushed on the door, concern growing as he met resistance, until he was finally able to get through.
The studio was a wreck, and not in the normal Marinette way. Instead of scraps of fabric and paper tossed aside in a haze of careless creativity, the room looked like a tornado had gone through. Spools of thread, pencils, paper–anything small enough–had been thrown from its place. Pages of her design sketchbook were ripped out and her mannequin was tipped over, white fabric pooling around it on the floor.
He rushed over to where she sat, curled up against the wall and knelt next to her.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
Damian reached out gently to stroke her hair, turning her face towards him.
“Please, darling, tell me what’s wrong.”
She sat up, wiping her eyes, and handed him a card that had been on the floor next to her. A wedding invitation was clipped in the middle, and he set that aside before reading the handwritten message.
Dear Marinette,
I know you said you didn’t want to hear from me, but Adrien, and Maman and Papa, thought it would be good for me to write to you. After all, it has been three years since everything that happened.
The reason I’m writing is that Adrien and I are getting married! I was hoping that you would consider making a wedding dress for me. You are the best designer I know, and I trust that you would have no trouble creating the perfect dress for me. Please let me know how much it will cost. Adrien says price is no issue, so don’t even consider a family discount!
Your wedding invitation is enclosed. Please come, and bring your fiance!
I hope you’re doing well in Gotham.
Your sister,
Marisol
Damian looked up, confused.
“You have a sister?”
“She is not my sister. My parents adopted her when I was twenty.”
“Marinette, my love, I know how hard it is to accept adopted siblings–”
“Don’t.”
She pushed him away and stood up, hands clenched so hard her knuckles were white.
“Don’t try to convince me I should talk to her,” Marinette snapped, snatching the letter out of his hands. “This situation is not the same as yours was. You don’t know anything about it.”
She stormed out of the room, cursing under her breath when her foot caught on a piece of fabric she’s thrown to the floor. A few moments later he heard cabinets slamming in the kitchen.
Damian found her there, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for the kettle to heat the water.
“I’m sorry,” she said, staring at the floor. “I took my anger out on you, and that wasn’t ok.”
“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said anything until I knew more about the situation. Especially since I know you’re the kind of person who would normally accept an adopted sibling without hesitation.”
She broke out into sobs again. Damian pulled her into his arms, running his fingers through her disheveled hair as she buried her face in his chest. He held her until the kettle was finished, then kissed the top of her head and sent her into the living room while he prepared tea for them.
“I don’t like to talk about her. I’ve told you some of the story already, and wanted to tell you everything. But thinking about her is upsetting. Speaking about it is almost impossible. All my words and feelings get jumbled up.”
Damian put their steaming mugs on the coffee table, then sat next to Marinette on the sofa and intertwined their fingers.
“Start at the beginning and tell me how you got to this,” he said, kissing her cheek. “And remember that I love you, and nothing you’re about to say can change that.”
She stared off to the side, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. He reached up with his free hand and pulled her lip free of her teeth, tapping gently so she would stop. Her blue eyes flicked to him.
“You already know some of this story,” she began after a few moments of silence. “Hawkmoth held me captive, I was rescued, and we were able to defeat him shortly after.”
Her gaze returned off to the side, and he squeezed her hand, hating the thought of her being alone and afraid.
“The whole story is…a lot worse. Gabriel kidnapped me and held me in his basement next to his wife. He even faked a ransom demand to my parents, and then offered to pay it, as a kind gesture for one of his son’s good friends. He created some sort of akuma or sentibeing to study me, to find out everything about me. He took my miraculous and drugged me so I couldn’t fight back. And then after he was done studying me, he created a sentibeing to be a perfect copy of me.
“And she was. Sentinette was exactly like me, as far as anyone could tell, and she took over my life. Any differences, especially in the beginning, were passed off as trauma from the kidnapping.”
Marinette let go and reached forward for her mug, holding it with both hands as she blew gently across the top and took a tentative sip. She was quiet for a moment as she watched the little, swirling wisp of steam.
“Her goal, of course, since she was controlled by Hawkmoth, was to get Chat Noir’s miraculous. He must have learned from Nathalie’s mistakes with Sentibug, because Sentinette played the long game. I mean, I had always told Chat that I wasn’t interested in being with him, and after Sentibug, he would be suspicious if Ladybug was suddenly into him.
“So she started off keeping him at arm's length, and then slowly acted as though she was coming around, and became Chat Noir’s Perfect Woman, and everyone else’s Perfect Marinette. Everyone fell in love with her. She rekindled a relationship with my parents, because it had been suffering from me living a double life. She was everything to everyone.
“The only person who ever voiced any concern about the difference was the girl who had tried to bully me when we were in school. Lila Rossi. Gabriel had hired her as a model and a spy to keep Adrien in check, but with this plan in play, anything Lila had to say fell on deaf ears. He fired her and publicly backed Sentinette. And no one saw anything strange about that.”
She laughed bitterly, her chest heaving with a half-controlled sob, and she pressed one hand to her sternum.
“Adrien fell in love with her, and at some point she also fell in love with him. I don’t think Hawkmoth really saw that part coming, but he should have, because that’s really what was his undoing. She loved them all, and because she was essentially made from me, she felt guilty about it. And Gabriel didn’t know about my pickpocket tendencies, so she was able to pickpocket her amok away from him, and told Adrien her secret identity. Well, my secret identity actually. I think she knew that he wouldn’t trust her if she said she was a sentibeing, so she kept pretending to be me, long enough to work out a rescue plan.
“She rescued me, and then all hell broke loose because at that point Gabriel knew he’d lost. And you already know how that went.”
“Yes,” he replied. “As you know, Wonder Woman forced us to stay out of it. But my father insisted on watching footage of the battle.”
“The hardest stuff mostly happened after Hawkmoth went down. Everyone was totally shocked to find out that I’d been gone the whole time, and that Sentinette–or Marisol as she likes to be called now–had been living my life.”
She took another sip, still clutching the tea tightly in both hands, then scooted herself back. She pulled her legs up and rested the hot mug on her knees.
“I heard apology after apology for people not realizing I had been gone. And I couldn’t really be angry about it, you know?” She scoffed. “Gabriel gave Sentinette everything she needed to be the Perfect Marinette.
“She was me. For six months. Lived in my apartment. Slept in my bed, shopped at my market, helped my parents in the bakery like a good daughter. Everywhere I went, she was there. Even in my childhood home. I couldn’t be comforted by my own family because she was there. After everything that happened, my parents still accepted her as their daughter and gave her my old bedroom.
“I came back and I was a stranger in my own life. I couldn’t be in my home, couldn’t sleep in my bed or use my kitchen, or wear the clothes I made with my own hands because she was in everything.
“She took everything. All the people I loved, everything I had. And I couldn’t even hate her for it, because she was a sentibeing, with no choice in any of it.
“Adrien tried to tell me that all the love he felt for her was for me, but I could tell in his eyes it wasn’t true. He never even saw me until she came along.”
He clicked his tongue. Agreste was a blind fool, and Damian felt his ire rise at the mere idea that anyone would think a copy could ever be as wonderful as his Marinette.
“And for all that she was like me, there were some things that were so different, and that’s what makes me so angry about it. She went to my classes at ESMOD, and her performance there was a disaster. If Gabriel hadn’t helped her, she would have completely ruined my education, because somehow he wasn’t able to give her any creativity.
Her free hand waved through the air, sloshing tea on her black leggings. He removed the mug and set it next to his on the coffee table.
“That’s why it hurts so much. In six months she never created anything, and not a single person who has ever said they love me noticed. I was in a cage while she pretended to be me, and they should have noticed! They should have known the difference but they were so pleased with the Perfect Marinette.”
He pulled her to him as tears streamed down her face, rubbing gentle circles on her back. After a moment she pulled away.
“For a little while, I think people understood, and even shared, my reluctance to accept her. She was a sentibeing who helped Hawkmoth. But she is so accommodating. So perfect, and understanding, and none of it was her fault. I almost felt sorry for her, stuck being the perfect people pleaser Gabriel designed her to be. No one except me ever told her that she should try to be different.
“Eventually people tried to push me into accepting her, but I don’t think they ever really understood what it was like to feel like a stranger in my own life.”
She looked down at their hands, twined together again.
“My parents tried to convince me we were sisters, that we were almost twins because she was just like me. She was all for it, of course, but I’ve struggled to think of her as anything other than Sentinette, the person who stole my life. They kept telling me it wasn’t her fault.
“If I call her Sentinette, they all get upset because she chose the name Marisol. And fine, I can understand that, she didn’t choose to be created and she should be called by her name of choice, but she chose a name that is so close to mine. For months I couldn’t even stand to be called by my own name.
“I felt guilty for being angry, and couldn’t be near any of them. So I moved here to Gotham.
“And now she’s sent me this request to make her wedding dress. And please believe me, my love, when I say that I am over Adrien falling in love with her because I am. I hope they’re happy.”
She pointed to the table, where Damian saw the letter, crumpled into a ball.
“But what she’s asking is for me to make her my wedding dress. She wants me to take that one thing that makes me different from her, and use it for her benefit, when she’s already got my whole family. When every time I look at her I am faced with the fact that no one who loved me could see that I was gone.
“And I’m so angry that my parents are still trying to force me to be her sister. It’s been three years and I still don’t want to be her sister. She only exists because someone kidnapped me and put her in my place. She’s not my twin. We weren’t raised together. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want to be forced to be a family with her. My parents, and everyone are constantly taking her side, because her existence is not her fault, but damn it, it isn’t my fault either!”
“But she’s so delightful, no one ever wants to hear that. They just want me to move on as if none of it ever happened. Be one big happy family, pretend as though they don’t all prefer her over me. And I can’t do that.”
Marinette finally turned to look at him, more tears streaming down her face.
“I have been so scared to tell you, and even more scared of you ever meeting her,” her wide eyes lending credence to her words. “I believe you when you say you love me. Everyone else who has ever met her prefers her over me. She was made to be the Perfect Marinette and I just can’t compete.”
They sat in silence as Damian thought through his response. After a moment, he noticed her breathing becoming a little bit erratic, so he pulled her back into his arms.
“Breathe with me now, Marinette,” he said, gently stroking his hand through her hair and breathing in a deliberate pattern. When her body relaxed into his, he settled her into his lap and leaned back just far enough to see her face.
“My love, I understand why you’re afraid, and your fears are perfectly reasonable considering the extraordinary trauma you experienced. Please allow me to reassure you of several things.
“I love you. I love that you stutter when I fluster you, and the way you turn red when you’re angry, and that despite your tendency towards pleasing people, you never let me get away with any of my bullshit. I have no interest in a,” he raised his hands to gesture, “‘perfect Marinette’ because your imperfections are what make you you, and I like you just as you are, thank you very much.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“Based on the contents of that letter alone, she seems exactly like the sort of self-absorbed imbecile that I can’t stand to be around. When I take into account the story you’ve just told me, then I can assure you, without doubt, that if I ever meet her I will never see her as anything other than the person who has hurt you so deeply.
“However true it may be that her existence isn’t her fault, she still hurt you. She continues to hurt you even when her actions are clearly within her own control. And I could never like someone who has hurt you.”
Marinette sobbed, and threw her arms around him.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a few minutes, pulling away to wipe her face. “I got your shirt all snotty.”
“Tt. You’re the one who cares about clothes, not me. You can get snot on all my shirts if it means I still get to keep you forever.”
Damian was certain that his wife was keeping a secret from him.
He trusted her with his life, of course—Marinette had kept a number of things from him in the earlier stages of their relationship, like her experience and trauma in Paris. He knew not to pry, and eventually she opened up. He was glad that some burden was taken off her shoulders.
But this was different. She was deliberately trying not to get caught; she took care to hide her phone from his view, and there were days she'd come home very late. When asked, she'd get irritable but also nervous around him. Damian didn't want to assume things right off the bat, but he did hope she would finally grow comfortable to talk it out with him. And so he resisted using his ‘resources’ to peek into her life—what kind of distrusting partner would he be if he did that?
He knew, too, that he was being awfully hypocritical. He was still yet to sit her down and reveal his vigilante alter ego to her as well as his family's. Damian would swear he planned to rip the bandaid off when they got engaged. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, out of the fear that she'd leave him. As far as he knew, Marinette wanted a normal quiet life after living through the Evil Butterfly Man's reign of terror. Telling her his identity would just put a target on her back, if there wasn't any already after she became a Wayne.
He couldn't imagine his sweet innocent wife exposed to the horrors of vigilantism.
Still, even though he had his own secrets, it felt quite frustrating not to know hers. That was what Damian was thinking one dark night when the door finally opened, signalling her arrival from work.
“Damian?” Her eyes widened. “Why are you still up? You shouldn't have waited for me.”
“It's alright. I couldn't sleep anyways.” And I will be sneaking out for patrol later. He stood up to kiss her cheek—
But froze upon seeing a red mark right at the base of her neck.
Marinette hummed tiredly. “Next time, don't wait for me if you're tired, okay?”
“. . . What's that on your neck?” He dared to ask.
Her hand immediately flew to the spot on her skin. For a split second, her expression changed into a hint of annoyance. “It's—it's . . .” she stammered, “I accidentally hit myself.”
“You hit yourself?”
She nodded meekly.
Damian stared at her for a moment. There was one thing he knew about his wife: she was a bad liar. But she was expert at omitting things, partly because she probably knew he wouldn't interrogate her further. He knew that she was aware it was the vaguest of explanations but she never tried to elaborate.
He mustered out a smile. “Be careful next time.”
She let out a nervous laugh and squeaked out a ‘yes’.
“By the way.” He took a deep breath, “I visited your office this morning.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and your secretary told me you hadn't punched in for the day yet.”
The silence between them was thick.
“Ah . . .” Damian could practically see the gears turning in her head. “That was . . . erm, I had to run an errand before work! Yeah . . .”
“I see. I was hoping to have lunch with you earlier but it seems that you're busy nowadays.”
She cursed in French under her breath.
“I'm really sorry, Damian.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “I'll make time this week. I promise.”
She hurried off to their bedroom, leaving Damian with his thoughts.
He really really didn't want to assume the worst. But his heart was racing and when he looked at the signs, they were clear as day. His mind started to spiral a little, wondering where he could've gone wrong, wondering if he didn't spend enough time on her or if she felt that he wasn't giving enough effort.
But he pushed all those thoughts away and followed her to bed.
***
One Saturday afternoon saw Robin and Superboy in the Watchtower's breakroom, talking about Damian's predicament. He hoped his friend could at least contribute an objective outsider's perspective in his dilemma and encourage him to broach the topic with Marinette.
“She's cheating,” Superboy deadpanned.
“She's—she's not,” he argued back, “Perhaps I am just reading too much into it . . .”
“Um but the hickey? The late night escapades?” Superboy frowned. “I don't know about you, but I don't think there's any other explanation for it.”
Robin bit his tongue. No, it's not possible. He loved Marinette terribly, and he knew—he could feel the same love from her if not more.
His friend sighed, “Look, I know it's hard to believe. Even I don't think M can be . . . unfaithful but you should confront her about it.”
“I can't. I can't face her like that when I am still keeping a secret of my own.”
“Then tell her you're Robin. A secret for a secret, hm?”
Robin didn't even want to think about how messy that conversation would be.
“It's all just about communication,” Superboy continued. “If you're worried she won't accept you, take my mom and dad as an example—”
He stopped talking, indicating that he sensed another presence nearby. Just on cue, a fuming Ladybug stomped into the breakroom, heading straight to one of the refrigerators.
The two men watched as she muttered angrily while looking around for food—Robin could see the clear exhaustion on her tensed figure. The Parisian heroine had joined the Justice League after the Hawkmoth fiasco became public; the heroes were quick to recruit her but not before she voiced out her complaints about the League neglecting her city. Though she hadn't revealed her identity to anyone, she had formed bonds with the other heroes her age, not excluding Robin and Superboy.
Superboy winced when she kicked the fridge door.
Ladybug did a hundred eighty, showing both the fires of hell and sleepless nights in her blue eyes. “You don't happen to have an extra stock of Kryptonite, do you?”
Superboy looked at her warily. “What happened this time?”
“Your dad assigned me to another magic-involved mission!” She tugged at her hair, sitting beside them. “I thought I made it clear I didn't want to be involved in too many missions especially if it's non-miraculous related ones!”
“You could . . . tell him that?”
She shot a sharp glare at them. “You don't think I did? They're insisting it's miraculous related when Constantine hasn't even confirmed anything! Just because Paris was terrorized, it doesn't mean miraculi are going to pop out from everywhere! These missions are affecting my normal life!”
It was a common complaint for heroes who had alternate civilian lives, but Robin was a bit surprised that she was that open about her feelings.
“And—and Batman too!” She pointed a finger at Robin. “I know Monsieur Furry's guilty about the Paris thing and all and me not having a mentor but he keeps checking on my progress after missions liked a damned helicopter parent! “
Before either of them could reply, she continued ranting, “I was going to meet an important client yesterday but they just had to call me in to help with the mission! And then it goes on until freaking midnight! What about my precious sleep?! Then Zatanna accidentally used a spell on me—it hit my neck and now it looks like a hickey!”
Her head dropped onto the table. “How the fuck do I fucking explain that to my husband?!”
Robin and Superboy looked at each other, wide-eyed.
“You—you haven't told your husband that you're a hero?” Superboy asked carefully.
Not lifting up her head, she replied with a muffled voice, “Of course not! I can't do that to him! He's already exposed to enough danger because of his last name! I just can't tell him ‘ hey mon amour so I'm actually that heroine from Paris on top of my emotional PTSD!’”
Robin swallowed. That was Marinette's name for him.
It ticked too many boxes.
He started to subconsciously connect the dots: catching his wife absent at work at the time the magic-wielding team of the JL was away on a mission; Ladybug sharing that she finally linked up messages from her yoyo to her personal phone; his wife coming home late, tired and fatigued from head to toe when all she was supposed to be doing was designing.
“I'm sure he'll come to understand your circumstances,” Superboy consoled.
“He won't.” The heroine sat up, revealing that her eyes were now welling up with tears. “He probably hates me right now because I'm sending the wrong signals. What if he thinks I'm just taking advantage of him for his money? His family already hates me! What if he's filing for a divorce right now?”
Robin felt the nudge from his friend, as if to tell him to do damage control. Superboy abruptly stood up, spouted out an excuse about being called by someone, and left the room to the two of them.
Ladybug sniffed, “Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that.”
“It helps to get your problems off your chest.” Robin awkwardly patted her head. In truth, she was really Marinette, he wanted to pull her into a hug already.
He coughed. “Why—why do you think your husband's family hates you?”
“Oh . . . I don't know, but his father’s always distant. Whenever I'm at a family dinner, they're just very quiet,” she replied sadly. “I know they're good people but I felt like I didn't belong somehow. My husband keeps saying they adore me though.”
Robin wanted to sigh out loud. His father still had his guard up because he believed she was a civilian, hence there was a side of her family they could never show her. It was always quiet due to Alfred's stern lecture about behaving in front of Marinette lest they accidentally spill something they shouldn't.
“It sounds like your husband cares a lot about you,” he told her, “Don't you think he would trust you if you told him the truth?”
“But I can't! I don't know where to begin!” She pursed her lips. “He's always been good to me and he never steps the line even if I'm obviously lying. I just . . . I thought I could tell him before we got married but I was too scared and I didn't want to ruin what we had.”
“But he won't think any differently of you, would he?”
“No . . .”
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” He smiled a little. “It may come off as a shock at first but he will accept it in time. You will be stressing yourself out even more if you keep thinking about the worst scenarios.”
She stared at him. “When did you get so wise?”
“Ever since I started thinking about what my wife was doing.”
She tilted her head. “Huh?”
It was unmistakable. Those gleaming blue eyes were Marinette's.
He was such an idiot.
“She keeps coming home late, hides her phone every time I'm near,” he listed, gauging her reaction. “Last night, I found out she hadn't come to her office even when she said she was working, and I caught her with a strange mark on her neck.”
Her eyes slowly widened as she seemed to come to the same realization. The heroine's gloved hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Damian?” she whispered.
He checked if the coast was clear and slowly peeled off his domino mask to show his full face. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you habib –”
He was cut off by her warm lips, her arms winding around his neck. Damian immediately melted into her touch, relieved that they finally divulged their secrets. He wouldn't have to be worried about introducing her to the hero world after all.
He was extremely relieved, in fact, that he hadn't noticed his father and eldest brother stroll into the room.
“ROBIN! Are you cheating on your wife?!”
Robin pulled away from Ladybug, withholding a sigh of exasperation. He put his mask back on and turned around to see Batman looking constipated and Nightwing utterly shocked.
"How could you do that to—to . . ." Nightwing cried out.
"Leave us." He glared.
"Robin—" His father's voice was tinged with disapproval.
"Leave. Us."
Fortunately, the two scurried off. Damian faced his wife, who seemed as flabbergasted. He was worried since it was her identity that was at risk, unless he embraced the unexpected cheating allegations.
"Oh my kwamis," Ladybug said softly, "I called my father-in-law a furry ."
"It's deserved." He rubbed up and down her shoulders. "What do you want to do?"
"Oh um . . ." She ducked her head. "Maybe go home and I'll—I'll explain everything from the beginning."
***
Damian had to recount his life story after his wife shared hers whilst they cuddled in bed. After they talked, he was surprised to learn so many new things about her—he thought he had her memorized already, even before they exchanged vows. At the same time, he was mentally kicking himself for thinking that Marinette was never closely involved in the war against Hawkmoth.
Of course she was Ladybug.
Of course she was a hero.
So while she was spiraling at the number of times she'd unknowingly mocked her in-laws in the suit, he was regretting not telling her the truth sooner. If they'd opened up years ago, he would've stayed by her side during missions, helping her deal with the troubles of having a masked alter egos, and sharing his own experiences with her. A stronger bond would've formed between them, because they both understood the hero's life after all this time.
Not long after, she finally decided she was ready to tell the Waynes who she was. ‘It would do more harm than good if I kept hiding it anyway,’ she reasoned. He did agree, since she was part of the family, both as Ladybug and Marinette. The others would surely be overjoyed (and less overprotective) if they found out that she was a hero. What Damian found strange, however, was Marinette seemed to worry that Bruce's opinion on her would change and he'd become ‘distant’ as Batman as well.
“Remember, Batman is afraid of you,” he had reminded her over and over again.
(And Batman would be ecstatic to discover that Ladybug was his daughter-in-law, but Damian would never tell her that. The caped vigilante had grown fussy over the Parisian heroes as his way of ‘making up’ for the Paris incidents . . . But at the same time, he cowered ever so slightly when Ladybug raised her voice on him. Damian's siblings blamed Ladybug's black hair and blue eyes for triggering the adopt-itis.)
And so Damian and Marinette decided to arrange a family lunch to break the news to everyone. It was then Damian remembered that there was one issue he hadn't resolved yet.
“If you don't tell Marinette today, I'm telling her.” Dick glared at him from across the table.
Damian glanced at his watch. His wife wasn't present yet, and had sent him a message about picking up pastries from Paris first.
“Tt. That would mean revealing our identities, Richard.” He crossed his arms.
“Just because you have the mask on it doesn't mean you can do that to her!” Dick argued. “Does Ladybug even know you're married?! ”
“What did he do to Pixie-pop?” asked Jason.
“He---he—” Dick was once again trembling in anger and disbelief.
“We saw him kissing Ladybug.” It was Bruce who replied. “Damian, I never expected this from you. You will have to talk and apologize to Marinette.”
“You did what?!” Jason stood up so abruptly that the utensils clattered.
“What the fuck?” Tim exclaimed.
Stephanie gasped. “What the hell Damian?”
“Holy shit,” Duke whispered.
Damian could only stare at the entryway of the dining hall, hoping that Marinette would arrive soon. If he was left with his family any longer, they'd be beating him up and disowning him.
“I have . . . a reason,” he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't exactly tell them right off the bat, since Marinette wasn't there yet.
“Open . . . open relationship?” Cass frowned.
Suddenly, a bright light appeared at the ceiling—a portal— and from it, a figure dropped down, much to everyone's shock. Ladybug, unified with the Horse miraculous, grinned at them with an armful of boxes filled with croissants and macarons.
“Ladybug?” Bruce gaped.
“Your daughter-in-law actually.” She lowered the sunglasses, showing her narrowed eyes. “And your worst fucking nightmare.”
“W---What?”
Damian could barely control his laughter, seeing his father frozen.
She detransformed completely and scowled at Bruce. “This is technically your fault, furry old man! If you didn't keep agreeing to send me on those magical missions, I wouldn't be so tired and caused a misunderstanding in the first place.”
Damian didn't have time to shield himself from the eruption of noise on the table. With his wife's theatrical reveal, everyone was in different states of shock. Tim stood up quietly to face a wall with a blank stare, entertaining another existential crisis. Duke choked on the water he was drinking. Jason was crouched on the floor miserably with his hands over his face, perhaps because of the times he complained to Marinette about Ladybug's uptight methods. Dick's jaw was completely unhinged, and he was slapping himself every minute or so. Stephanie passed a hundred dollar bill to Cass.
And Bruce. Poor Bruce was paler than their porcelain plates, speechless and unmoving.
Damian exchanged a wide smile with his wife. He loved her so much.
Daminette arranged marriage au where the League of Assassins worship kwamis and through some mystical magic artifact, Ra's divines the next Guardian of the Miraculi is some random French girl, kidnaps her, and forces her and Damian to be married in order to further legitimize his rule. This happens when both kids are like eight. And then Ra's releases her back to her parents and no one really believes her about what happened for years and Marinette eventually half convinced herself she made the whole thing up. She nearly forgets it entirely until she's fifteen and she locks eyes with Damian Wayne and recognizes him.
