𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 | timinette

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so, a lot of people were requesting for part 3 to the previous chapters. here's the idea: i'll make it into a full-length series and publish it on my profile. let me know what you think!

— MARINETTE SWORE TO HERSELF she was going to kill Tim later.

It was his fault they had ended up in this awkward situation (certainly not hers at all), and calling it 'awkward' was the understatement of the century.

Currently, the two of them were stuck in a relatively secure safe house surrounded by Gotham's most dangerous criminals. And that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that they had to spend the night with only one bed. There wasn't even a couch that one of them could use. Just a large king-sized bed, that, Marinette was a hundred per cent sure had been used by Bruce and Selina several times for... certain situations.

Lovely wasn't it? Sleeping in your best friend's dad's bed with said best friend, who you have feelings for.

How did they end up here again?

Everything was normal; the criminals, the fighting, the sound of gunshots. It was completely standard in the lives of the vigilantes Ladybird and Red Robin. They were known for their witty banter, and yet, despite denying it, the entirety of Gotham's criminal population thought they were dating.

But back to the point.

Ladybird smirked under her mask as she knocked out a particularly strong man. "Not so strong now, are we?"

Red Robin groaned from where he was repeatedly punching someone. "Can't you think of something different? You've said that literally sixty times tonight—"

He was cut off abruptly by Ladybird's loud scream.

"Oh my god," he said quickly, rushing over to her, knocking out a few people on the way. "Oh my god— is that blood?"

Neither of them noticed the criminals they were fighting a few seconds ago dispersing silently.

"No, you dumbass," Ladybird said, clutching the bullet wound in her stomach. "It's ketchup. Of course, it's blood, what else were you expecting?"

"Holy shit," Red Robin breathed, coming back to his senses. "Okay, okay— Bird, you need to keep pressing that wound, let me just contact Oracle."

He switched his comm on. "Hello? Oracle? You there—"

The only answer he received was static. Which, for your information was impossible, because unless someone was holding some sort of scrambler nearby, it was supposed to work perfectly.

"Red," Ladybird groaned, still clutching her wound. "Red, you need to look—"

"Just— just give me a few seconds okay?" Red Robin fumbled with his comm. "Something's wrong—"

"Red," Ladybird said, and the emphasis in her tone made him turn around.

At the very least 30 criminals stood in front of them, each one armed with a weapon.

"Shit," Red Robin said. "This is not good."

"Yeah?" asked Ladybird, sarcastically. "How did you know?"

Helping her stand up, Red Robin sent her a reassuring smirk, even though she couldn't see it. "Well, let's see, we have about fifteen people armed with knives, twelve with guns and the last three are the last three have machetes. I think."

✓ | 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒, all pairingsWhere stories live. Discover now