In which a 25 year old rambunctious fuckgirl, billionaire, genius meets a 26 year old cunning yet calm and collected red head.
What could possibly go wrong?
Theme Song: NEFFEX - Dangerous
18+
Minors don't interact.
-OC is a intersex lesbian, G!P
...
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Wayne Manor
I sigh, standing before four graves and go down on one knee as I look at the grave stones.
Thomas Wayne
Martha Wayne
My grandparents.
I never met them in person but over the years I grew to respect them as I heard stories about them and what they stood for. Up until their untimely murder.
Titus
My best friend.
My childhood black Great Dane my father gifted me. It was a form of a peace offering of sorts for us to connect and bond when we first started to get to know one another. At first I wasn't to thrilled with the dog but after slowly giving him a chance he became my best friend. And since I was homeschooled most of my life I didn't really have a chance to make friends but he was all I needed. He put police dogs to shame.
The sad thing is, he died when I was away at boarding school so I never really had a chance to say goodbye to my best pal.
Bruce Wayne
My father.
My eyes gloss over, swallowing the lump in my throat.
We didn't have the easiest beginning, middle, or end. But, we did have those nice moments. I wish they were more frequent and lasted longer. I can't really put into words my relationship with him at the moment as I stare at the grave stone solemnly.
I never had the chance to say goodbye to him either.
The sound of footsteps gliding through the grass get my attention and they can only belong to one person.
"What are you still doing here, Alfred?" I ask softly, swallowing thickly as I keep my gaze down.
"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye, Miss-"
"That's why I came late. So you could." I tell him, standing up on my feet.
"I've prepared the master bedroom for you." He informs me, ignoring my comment.
"I'm not staying. I just came to pick up a few things." I trail off softly.
"With all due respect, Wayne Manor is your house." He says.
"It's my father's house." I state.
"Your father is dead."
"This place is a mausoleum. If I had my way, I'd pull the damn thing down, brick by brick." I shake my head.
"This house, Miss Wayne, has sheltered 7 generations of your family." He tells me.
"Why do you give a damn, Alfred? It's not your family." My gaze still not on him.
